I’d like to blame my parents, Ayn Rand and God.
When I was little I often heard that God was my Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Son of what, my mother didn’t say. And of course, she never believed in God, so my existence is a little tricky to explain. I always think of his paternal visitation as a matter of knocking, coming and going. I expect he came in his holey aspect and was transparent. Then again, I got the impression Mom preferred girls, so perhaps he was a trans parent?
Paid child support in shekels.