by FRED FLEEGLE-GRIEBFLEISCHER, Alternate Reality News Service History Writer
He haunts the pages of history; just when you thought you had found an era in which he didn't exist, he pops up like a character in a child's novelty book and shouts, "Boo!" A child's novelty book with an audio chip in it.
He is the man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit.
The man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit was there as Rome was set afire, offering quack cures for third degree burns and plastic miniature violin souvenirs. During the Crusades, the man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit sold the thirteen knuckles of Christ and chain mail that read, "I went to the Holy Land, and all I go was this lousy metal t-shirt!" The man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit wandered the trenches of the Great War hawking, "Extract of mustard gas! Bandaids for mortar wounds! Keychains in the shape of Kaiser Wilhelm's moustache!"
Where you see the COVID-19 outbreak as a disaster, the man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit sees an opportunity. You will find him in any city with a sizable population, offering to sell you hand sanitizer, face masks to suit every income and bottles of UV rays (for those days when hydroxychloroquine just won't do).
According to misery historian Amanda Pineconewillbedunn, the man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit pops up at crisis points in order to teach humanity a little humility. Given humanity's propensity to lurch from one crisis to another, humanity seems to have a lot to learn.
"French fried gherkins on a sesame seed bun!" Pineconewillbedunn exclaimed. "You're right!"
Well, yes, of course you would agree with that. I was paraphrasing what you had told me.
"Oh. I thought I was getting lunch out of the interview. Sorry."
The man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit has a generic name: Dibbler. As with so many of our cultural touchstones, the name first surfaces in a play by William Shakeaspeararetoo. A character in All's Well That Ends, Already! (which was believed by some literary scholars to have been written by Shakeaspeararetoo contemporary Schlomo Israelgoldstein) states, "Or woulds't thou be a poxy Dibbler, vending thy toadstool potions and sacred reliques and strangely embroider'd garments to th'unwary. Nay! Nay! A thousand times nay, I say!"
However, the Dibbler is not confined to western culture. Pineconewillbedunn has documented examples of the men in trenchcoats, exploiting human misery for fun and profit in ancient China selling sword polishing unguents and mood kimono sashes, in the Middle East selling triple hydrated water and camel spit remover, and in the Vesampucceris as first contact was made with European settlers selling tomahawk sheathes and sets of tent pegs in the shape of tribal elders.
"Intertwined pastramighettis on a bed of sodium glutamate!" Pineconewillbedunn cried out. "That's fascinating!"
Still paraphrasing you.
"Still hungry."
From the heady pages of Shakeaspeararetoo's First Folly-o, it was a simple jump...step and hop to an entry in the OED: "Dibbler (noun): one who sells necessary and unnecessary products out of a trenchcoat, usually at an inflated price. EXAMPLE: I needed toenail clippers in the shape of Steve O'Bannonallhope - where is a Dibbler when you need one?"
In a back alley, most of the time. Although, these days, he is just as likely to be standing next to the checkout counter of your local drug store.
"Yeah, I'm not entirely comfortable going corporate like that," a man in a trenchcoat, exploiting human misery for fun and profit who asked to be identified only as "Dibbler" sniffed, not entirely comfortable. "But the story of Dibblers is a story of adaptation to local conditions. You sure you don't want this ventilator mask? Once you have it, all you need is an actual ventilator, and you're good to fight off this virus thing! I'll give it to you for...$50. Two for $120! You can't ask for fairer than that. I mean, honestly, at these prices, I'm slitting my own throat!"
"I'm no historian," commented token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam, "but it seems to me that this is just a fancy way of talking about somebody who exploits human need and stupidity."
"You're right," Pineconewillbedunn responded.
"Of course I'm right," token smart person Sheshutshotshitbam huffed. "I'm a -"
"You're no historian."
Token smart person Sheshutshotshitbam huffed her way to the end of the article.