Okay, Tell Me Honestly

Is my hand-to-chin pose WANKY?



C'mon, you can tell me. I'm Richard Ford. The literary figure. I could destroy you. But I won't.

Look, I thought the photographer captured me at a perfect moment, as I was deep in thought, lightly grasping my chin, puzzling over what kind of capers and hijinks my middle-aged realtor character would be up to next. . . maybe he could join the Peace Corps, or take his grandson on a road trip across the country to check out the badminton hall of fame. But if I look wanky doing so, you should let me know. I can photoshop, you know. I have many talents, and imagination is numero uno. In fact, I was just sitting here in my leather recliner listening to classical music, a glass of brandy in one hand and my chin in the other, devising new ways to destroy you. All of you. Except the ones who are kind enough to just say that I look wanky. If I do.

But I don't. Admit it. I could be described as dreamy, sculpted, athletic, tanned, brooding, kittenish, equine, leonine, starfishy, or simply a destroyer of you. Take your pick, bub.

Okay, while you were wasting your time trying to choose the correct adjective, like swift Apollo I ran down the street, polled my neighbors, and ran back. Not a one said that I was in the least wanky. That's four out of four people surveyed. See for yourself:

A Poll Of The Neighbors Living Just Down The Street From Famous Literary Hunk, Richard Ford

WANKY? Absolut (ely) (Vodka) not, my good man! Hawhawhawhawhawhawhaw. I haven't laughed like this in years, Richard, YEARS. My spleen hurts. Would you rub it for me? Thanks.









They may say you're a wanker, but you're not the only one. I hope some day I will join you, and the world will be as one.










Wait a second, I'm confused as to what country we're in. . . oh yeah, this is the United States of America, where we don't use that kind of filthy language.










Our individual lives cannot, generally, be works of art unless the social order is also. Now get away from me.