Rico

Bespectacled conjurer of fancies. 6' 1" tower of intellect. Rakish, darkly charming, a barbed wit -- yet kind. A Man For All Seasons, and Of Letters. The most celebrated intellects of our day are routinely rendered agog by Rico's breathtaking feats of pure reasoning. He tips generously and reaps the benefits in the form of constant attention from a roving entourage of doting waiters and doormen. Rico's car is always waxed to a shiny lustre. Some mistakenly believe Rico has a rocket pack permanently affixed to his back, so dazzled are they by his high-flying personality, propulsive smile and superheated sexuality. Rico numbers, among his close friends: the heads-of-state of most industrialized nations; a handful of powerful A-list, Bono-grade celebrities (though no longer Bono himself, due to the singer's grueling philanthropic schedule); and several low-income wage laborers, who keep Rico attuned to the grim realities of working-class life. It is to the influence of the latter that Rico attributes his world-famous modesty. Rico's impeccable wardrobe is hand-tailored from finest silk by artisans in London's Savile Row. The exact composition of his enticing cologne is, alas, proprietary. Small woodland creatures gravitate to him. His arms are solid platinum; they house powerful lasers. Through Myspace, Rico looks forward to keeping in touch with his two trillion fans, and to fomenting a universal disregard for -- indeed a war upon! -- frowns.