Which Reminds Me

It has come to our attention that our great-grandfather, David Allen Barth, who by the way died in 1954, is the designated president of a company incorporated in the State of California, which is called the David A. Barth Corporation. The paperwork remains on file in Sacramento, perhaps for nostalgic reasons, and coincidentally his grandson David A. Barth, the son of my Dad's Uncle Ariel, who lives near Pasadena, could claim to be the namesake president of the company, although not really the president of it in terms of having been elected to the title by the long since deceased board members, which would seem an impossibility as far as we know, because the paperwork lists David A. Barth as the president, a minor point of no interest to us. They might be my cousins of the third degree but we don't work for them. Wasn't one two-week prison term enough for you? What more could there be to gain from resurrecting a useless entity consisting mainly of dead people? So that we could function as slave labor for the wicked witches of San Francisco? This plot makes no sense to me.