Your name is Richard: A thought experiment

Let’s say that, like me, your name is Richard.

There are several nicknames that float around for Richard: Rich, Rick, Ricky, Richie, multiple variations on those based on vowel preferences, Ditch (if you saw Terminal Velocity), and, finally, Dick.

Maybe I’m wrong here, but it’s generally an acceptable practice to designate your own nickname in new introductions. You know, unless you choose something ambitious and most-likely unachievable like “Snake” or “The Viceroy.”

So, you introduce yourself as Rick. Or Rich. Or maybe you’re eight-years-old or a very well-paid Dominican baseball player, so you call yourself Ricky.

The other person responds, “Pleased to meet you, Dick.”

“Please, call me [Rick/Rich/Ricky],” you respond politely. Maybe they misheard you.

“Yeah, sure. Look, Dick, I nee …” he continues, nonplussed.

“No, not Dick. Rrrrick.”

(Or "Di-tch," you courageous Charlie Sheen fan, you.)
(Or “Di-tch,” you courageous Charlie Sheen fan, you.)

“Uh-huh. So as I was saying, Dick …” he resumes, annoyed that you interrupted him while speaking.

“Look, you’re not listening to me. I said my name is Rick. Not Dick. Don’t call me Dick.”

“Woah, calm down now,” he says, raising his hands. “There’s no need to get offended. My great-grandfather was a Dick. That makes me a-sixteenth Dick. I’m just trying to honor you.”

“I don’t care if you’re a full-blooded Dick. I don’t like to be called Dick because I can never tell if someone’s calling me Dick or a dick.”

“Well, that’s your problem, Dick,” he says, getting angry. “I know lots of Richards who call themselves Dick. In fact, 90 percent of the Richards I asked said they were unoffended by the term ‘dick.'”

“Good for them. I, however, don’t want to be called Dick.”

“Do you even know the history behind ‘Dick?'” he says, turning red. “Well, I do. The first person to use the term was a Richard to introduce himself. It wasn’t even a slur back then.”

“I don’t call myself Dick. And it’s a slur right now, especially the way you keep saying it.”

“OK, fine, Richard, since you want to get all politically correct about it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “So, anyway, I need your approval to continue calling a sports team in your honor the Washington Dickskins. Do I have it?”

"And if you don't play ball, I'm moving the Dickskins to Maryland!"
“And if you don’t play ball, I’m moving the Dickskins to Maryland!”

Cocktails, oo-oo!

It explains this guy's flying.
It explains this guy’s flying.

I’m pretty sure that the theme to Duck Tales was written for booze money. And it only took a couple of minor lyrics edits to find some poor fellow thirsty traveler begging for a drink.

Life is like a hurricane here in Drunkburg.
Race cars, lasers, aeroplanes — it’s a drunk blur.
You might solve a mystery! Or rewrite history!
 
Cock Tails, oo-oo!
Tales of derring-do, bad and good drunk tales, oo-oo!
 
D-d-d-danger, watch behind you! There’s a stranger out to find you!
What to do? Just grab onto some Cock Tails, oo-oo!
Not pony tails or cotton tails, but Cock Tails, oo-oo!
 
When it seems they’re headed for the final curtain,
Bold deduction never fails, that’s for certain!
The worst of messes become successes!
 
Cock Tails, oo-oo !
Tales of derring-do, bad and good drunk tales, oo-oo!
Not pony tails or cotton tails but Cock Tails, oo-oo!

 

And everybody thought the best music was written about heroin.