I Meet Dick

 

The Dumb American
Faction by David Arthur Walters

I Meet Richard Justaman

I could not help but like Richard “Dick” Harden Justaman despite his hard-headedness as a “Richard” (ruler). I would soon discover that he is true to his name, for to rule as an authoritarian, as we have lately learned in America, requires oversimplications, categorizations, black-and-white judgements, and to that end Dick has tags for everyone, mostly demeaning labels except for family and friends.

I happen to love women indiscriminately, too much for my own good, by the way, while he categorizes many women, mainly those who are American Republicans, as “cunts,” a term for an area he seems fixated on. I objected to the vulgarity despite his apologia, that the word is common parlance even among sophisticated women in his beloved Canada, and, naturally, in Great Britain, where it was, like “prick” in the 17th century, a term of endearment in the 18th century. Much to my annoyance at times, Dick also loves to use the word “fuck” in every email, opening or closing with “Fuck Trump.” He continued to do so, and claimed that American women frequently use it along with “shit,” applying “fucking shit” to everything that goes south.

Dick made it obvious in short order that he is a classic Either/Or man whose main interest in women who are to his taste cunnilingue. If you are his friend and so wish it, he will gladly share his females with you, just as patriarchal gorillas do in the rain forest, for he is, like a dog, a man’s best friend if you share his prejudices.

Dick’s generosity towards his wife and girlfriends is indeed phenomenal. As far as he is concerned, if a wife of his discovers and is appalled by his technical adultery in every port of landing, and sues him for divorce, he will gladly settle for half his fortune, for he has far too much property, not to mention women, for his own use even if it were thus divided.

“My holdings are such that they are large enough and diversified under different forms of ownership that it would be impossible for anyone to find them let alone get their hands on them," he explained.

He would not be surprised by such a lawsuit for he has said he has overheard his wife and her girlfriends bragging over cocktails how they took their husbands for a ride, leaving more than one husband homeless.

Anyway, although Dick is a wealthy businessman who brags how much he has taken dumb American consumers for, he happens to be the dumbest Canadian American whom I have ever met, baring all of his faults, as it were, to a known blabbermouth. I think he wants his story told, knowing I would never personally identify him. Well now, I have a weakness for dumb Americans because I am one of them, as smart as Socrates in knowing how dumb I am; my second wife did not think so: she told me to find a “dumb woman” before she divorced me forty years ago; I still love her to death.

That is not to say that Dick is always dumb, at least not when it comes to business and having girlfriends in every port of call. As a matter of fact, he is a wealthy bloke thanks to his pioneering involvement in the porn and rap music businesses and being a confidential fashion strategist for two major retailers. All that besides his ownership of currently appreciating condominiums worldwide which he purchased with enormous gains on the Apple stock he loved, being a sort of brand man himself.

I met Dick in a public library, where at first he appeared to be just another homeless man perseverating over some subject or another, made evident by his rather shabby attire and a foot high stack of papers and magazines he carried about with him. He wore earphones, so I nudged him and asked what music he was listening to.

“I just wear them so people don’t interrupt me. I pretend I cannot hear them when they try so I can go about my business, but I hear you are an investigative reporter and a damn good one. I have read some of your stuff. You should run for mayor. By the way I am Richard.”

“Richard, I am….

“My friends call me Dick,” he interrupted and handed me a black calling card with DICK overlaid thereon in large gold letters.

“Well, I am just another scribbler who should have avoided politics and written a timeless novel. I perceived myself as an author or originator and not a hack writer… I don't mean to be nosy, but what business are you in?”

“Not a problem, ask away,” he said as he brought his blue eyes under his long blond hair to bear on my own blue eyes backed by baldness. “I was in the publishing business for many years. I am presently a market strategist for top talent and major fashion businesses.”

“Oh, do you live around here?”

“No, I travel a lot–I have millions of frequent flyer miles–I own condos in several cities. I have a penthouse at the Buckley across the street.”

You don’t have a computer to use over there?”

“I do, but my Brazilian girlfriend is there for the time being. She is in town on a modeling contract. I am sponsoring her fashion business.”

He obviously did not mind that I was giving him the third degree. It was as if he wanted his story told.

“Fashion?”

“Yes, brassiers and panties, and a perfume brand. She is doing very, very well. She likes to parade around the apartment plumb nude. She just won’t let me alone to do business, she wants to fuck nonstop, so I come over here to use the computers.”

“I understand video-conferencing is the big thing nowadays. Why travel?”

“My business requires lengthy face-to-face consultations. I have some business here, then I am off to Hong Kong, Paris and London.”

“What kind of business?”

“A big show with the most beautiful women in the world.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Image: This may be the actual appearance of Richard III