Speaking of Facebook, I filled in a few details in Ricky’s bio, which I’ll copy and paste below for reference:
According to Ricky, he was born in the alley behind the legendary punk dive bar CBGB’s in New York during one of Johnny Thunders’ final shows.
His mom, however, insists Richard grew up in a perfectly nice suburban neighborhood with one of those big stupid 90s shopping malls with the marble tiles in white, pink, and green where he and his friends used to hang out and spend their allowance at the record store and the arcade.
His ex-girlfriends say the mouse-man they call “Quicky Ricky” still lives at home in Mama Rat’s basement.
And the cartoonist says he evolved out of an absurd sketchbook project of hers wherein she would draw Bono as a mouse-man obsessed with cheese.
Anyway, Ricky’s a sketchy sorta dude, albeit with a sweet spot. He only hears what he wants to hear, but maybe that’s just because of all the tinnitus and hearing loss from too many years of loud rock n roll.
In keeping with his sketchiness, the cartoonist prefers to render him the old-fashioned way, with ink on paper, and sometimes as a #monotype, drawn in ink on plexiglas and run through an etching press to see how things splotch out. There was a brief foray into digital, but it just never looked right.
“Whatever, baby… how’s about a little tail rub?” – Ricky B.
Also, dude’s full name is Richard Barrett Rateriff, but as you see above, the gals call him Quicky Ricky… or at least the disgruntled ones do.