Who is Dick Hercules? That is the question everyone is asking. Actually, that’s not true. For example, you are not. And no one else is, either. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. It only means you don’t know you should be.
Diklitous Phantasos Hercules is the second most noteworthy personage to hail from the tiny village of Potamós on the Greek island of Kythira, the first most noteworthy being of course Venus, Goddess of Love. Throughout much of history, Kythira was a crossroads for merchants, sailors, and conquerors. Thus it is in such environments that Mr. Hercules is most at home. But he is equally content in quiet contemplation on a high hill under the stars, where often he can be found creating poetry.
Yes, Dick is a poet, perhaps of the highest order. Or perhaps of dubious merit. This is a point of much contention among the poetic elite. His reputation as an adventurist and rapscallion cloud the debate, as some academics discount him as a mindless brute.
Facts About Dick
- He left home at the age of twelve after his parents left home first without telling him where they were going, or that they weren’t coming back.
- His first afternoon as an orphan was spent wandering in the mountains near Potamós, where he chanced upon the great Disomynomous Johnson, the shepherd well-known for herding Greek sheep in English. That afternoon, Dick mastered his first foreign tongue.
- On Dick’s second afternoon as an orphan, he found work on a fishing boat whose captain taught him the art of whispering to Sea Creatures.
- On his third afternoon, Dick grew restless and embarked upon a swim across the Mediterranean. When he reached the Straits of Gibraltar, he felt so good he decided to continue swimming West. Three days later he found himself in The Hamptons, thus becoming the first mortal to swim across the Atlantic. Although this is disputed by some who say he cheated by using whales to convey him at night while he star-gazed upon their backs.
Dick’s Globetrotting
Shortly after wading ashore, Dick’s belly was full of cocktails offered him by the posh family whose property he’d landed at, and within the hour he’d decided to join the U.S. Army. As a common foot soldier, he took part in a Great Battle and accomplished a Feat of Strength. After just two years of service, he’d logged seven Feats of Strength and worked his way up to Brigadier General, a rank to which no teen had ever risen, and to which Dick hadn’t necessarily wanted to. Twenty-seven minutes after his promotion, Dick retired from the service and hopped aboard a merchant marine vessel bound for the Philippines, where he’d heard there was good money in bare knuckle-boxing. It was in Manila that Dick’s legendary rapscallionism first emerged. But that story is told elsewhere.
In his nineteenth summer, Dick left Manila for Hong Kong, where he reveled in brothels and wrote three of his most popular action-thrillers – The Hercules Initiative, The Hercules Imperative, and Hercules Visits the Circus. Each of these bestsellers has been translated into 43 languages, most of them by Dick himself. He writes all his novels in his native Greek before translating them into English, and then translating them from English into other languages that he can then translate into yet others. It is this “multiplicity of layers” to which he attributes his appeal to readers across the globe.
But of course it is his poetry for which he is most adored. Or despised.
And you won’t find any of it in this post.
However, you can sample it in this tale of Good Poetry and Bad Poetry at The Punchylands! blog by the illustrious Professor V.J. Duke.
This looks a lot like double-dipping with the poetry. 😉
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Well, I feel that if ever there was a character worth two dips, it might be Senor Hercules.
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But of course.
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I have arms like that, but they are called “Bingo Wings” A post for thought, thanks Walt
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Bingo Wings! Now there is a phrase i havent heard before!
Yes, deep thoughts. Lighter fare to come, I promise.
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Glad I could provide, Walt.
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*laughs* What a history. I think he was misguided in the beginning. I mean, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. And I’m not sure he likes poetry either. But I do hope he continues to write it.
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I see … sort of a jack of all trades, eh? But why would you say he doesnt like poetry?
Glad to hear from you, sir. You were missed last week.
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Yes, something like that. Well, maybe he does enjoy it…I could be wrong. It just seems that he likes to flit from profession to profession. Which isn’t a bad thing, you know.
*bows* Yes, I’m unsure what to do, I think.
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Oh dear! I hope you are o.k.
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Mr. Hercules reminds me of my boyhood heroes, professional wrestlers. Bruno Samartino and Crazy Luke Graham, plus a half dozen others, were both sleazy and infectious, and all had pretty big muscles. To my knowledge, none wrote poetry, and if they did, it would have ruined my perception of them as lowlife hustlers, nevertheless great entertainers!
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Yes, the man in the photo was himself a wrestler. Maybe he should write sleazy, infectious lowlife poetry. That might make him a most well-rounded entertainer! A wrestling Charles Bukowski, if you will.
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I’ve been drinking, and I’m not sure where this came from or where I am, right now, but I like it. And I have some serious raw garlic on my breath. Prost. You are alive with verse and firey aspect, phlantagumous humours.
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Well now it is most interesting that you used the word Prost. I was going to use Prost as the name of a country in a novel. I thought I’d made it up, but maybe you did. Or maybe we both did. Or didn’t. What gives? Thanks for reading this silly thing. The world needs more people who appreciate silly things.
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I am mainly silly. The world needs more clowns, the scary kinds.
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