Dick Bulger: The Airwave Menace of Boston
Richard āDickā Bulger was born sometime between the invention of the Slim Jim and the first late-night infomercial, in greater Boston, Massachusettsāan area that has produced many proud Irish families, several disgraced politicians, and now, unfortunately, him.
To this day, nobody is quite certain if āBulgerā is his real surname or just something he scrawled on a bar napkin when a bouncer demanded ID.
Early Life: Raised on Roast Beef and Bad Reception
Dick grew up near Revere Beach, nourished almost exclusively on roast beef sandwiches, onion rings, and whatever beer was on sale in the warmest aisle of the liquor store. While other kids were playing Little League, Dick was in his room āmodifyingā Radio Shack equipment with a butter knife and a roll of electrical tape that had seen things.
As a teenager, he discovered two great loves:
- CB / ham radio
- Yelling his opinions at total strangers who couldnāt see his face
This made radio the perfect medium.
By his early 20s, Dickās bedroom looked less like a living space and more like the back room of a failed electronics pawn shop. Coax cables, broken scanners, a crusty Technics turntable, and a milk crate full of mystery tubes formed a kind of ergonomic nest around his permanently reclined body.
The Man, The Mic, The Mayonnaise
Dickās adulthood is defined by three constants:
- He is always unemployed, but always ābetween opportunitiesā
- He lives in his car, which he refers to as āthe mobile operations centerā
- He is banned from multiple Olive Garden locations for āunorthodox breadstick usageā
His diet consists largely of:
- Roast beef sandwiches
- Michelob
- Raw bacon eaten straight from the package (ābacon-wrapped cannabis maki,ā as he calls it)
- Whatever is left in the complimentary condiment bins at fast-food joints
He doesnāt just live on the edge of societyāhe parks slightly crooked across two spaces right on it.
Audio Prophet of Revere Beach
If you hear a sketchy AM signal drifting over the night sky, ranting about āTHE TRUTHā between burps and packet bursts, thereās a good chance itās Dick Bulger.
Dick is a ham and CB radio operator who treats FCC regulations as ānon-binding suggestions.ā His on-air style is a bizarre mashup of sports talk radio, late-night conspiracy show, and a guy arguing with the drive-thru menu speaker after theyāre closed.
His audio chain is a glorious mess: RE20 mic one night, mystery Radio Shack shotgun mic the next, all shoved through some ancient mixer covered in roast beef fingerprints. He sounds like a guy broadcasting from inside a dumpster behind a Boston barāand somehow, thatās part of the charm.
Fox News, Alex Jones, and the Accidental Awakening
For years, Dick fell asleep to the comforting screams of cable news and conspiracy radio. With no TV in his car, heād play Alex Jones clips on loop, snoozing peacefully to tirades about chemtrails and lizard people.
He grew obsessed and began writing Alex daily letters on discarded roast beef wrappersādetailed, greasy manifestos explaining how he could help the cause with his ācovert transmitter networkā and āunhackable roast beef encryption.ā
Alex, of course, ignored him. But something strange happened.
In the process of trying to connect all the ādeep state dots,ā Dick started readingā¦ things. Sources. Articles. Footnotes. He accidentally tripped and fell face-first into context.
He noticed:
- The āglobalist cabalā just looked suspiciously like rich people refusing to pay taxes
- The people heād been told were ādangerous outsidersā were often the ones working three jobs while the guys screaming about them were selling supplements
- Fascism actually soundedā¦ kind of bad? Like, real bad.
His brain, ravaged by beer and RF exposure, did something unexpected: it realigned itself.
Dick Bulger: Hapless, Unwitting Anti-Fascist
Dick never decided to be anti-fascist.
He simply arrived there after following a long thread of nonsense to its absurd conclusion and realizing:
āWait a secondā¦ the bad guys might be the ones yelling into million-dollar cameras, and not the broke guy sweeping the floor at 3 a.m.ā
From that point on, Dick became a kind of accidental anti-fascist agent of chaos:
- He hijacks his own late-night rants to complain about corporate greed and authoritarian clowns, even while mispronouncing half the vocabulary.
- He tries to āown the libs,ā only to discover he actually agrees with them about workersā rights, corruption, and not wanting stormtroopers in the street.
- He rails against āwoke cancel culture,ā then spends 45 minutes defending a local drag show because āthey buy a ton of roast beef and tip good.ā
He doesnāt say āanti-fascism.ā He says things like:
āI donāt care what you look like, who youāre with, or what you identify asāif you bring beer and mayo and donāt act like a jackbooted ding-dong, youāre good in my book.ā
Is it polished political philosophy? Absolutely not.
Is it, functionally, anti-fascist? Shockingly yes.
Bulgerās Diversity, Equity & Inclusion (by Accident)
Dick, unintentionally, is a walking DEI initiative:
- Heāll drink with anyone: all races, genders, orientations, and backgroundsāif you bring enough Michelob and maybe a family-sized roast beef.
- Heāll teach anyone how to solder badly and overdrive an RF amp, so long as you donāt ārat him out to the commies at the FCC.ā
- He believes firmly that everyone deserves access to radio, roast beef, and the truthāhis extremely garbled, intermittently factual version of it.
Without ever reading a single DEI document, he lives by a simple creed:
āNo fascists. No narcs. No mayo shaming. Everyone else: get on the mic.ā
Nemesis: Roy Fowler and the War of the Airwaves
Every legend needs a villain, and for Dick, that villain is Roy Fowler.
Roy is another unhinged radio presence whose brain has been thoroughly marinated in Fox News. Where Dick accidentally veered into anti-fascism, Roy doubled down on the brain-poison deluxe package. Their on-air clashes are the stuff of underground legend:
- Roy: red-faced fury about imagined Marxist baristas
- Dick: screaming back, āYOU GOTTA STOP LETTING BILLIONAIRES LIVE IN YOUR HEAD RENT-FREE, ROY! THEY AINāT BUYINā YOU ROAST BEEF!ā
To outside observers, it’s pure chaos.
To someone paying attention, it’s a bizarre little morality play about critical thinking, media literacy, and one guy slowly realizing he doesnāt actually hate the people he was told to hate.
The Living Museum of Modern Art (and Poor Life Choices)
Dickās life now spans multiple dimensions:
- On the air: A feral talk-radio philosopher, ranting through AM static and sketchy SSB signals
- Online: The proud namesake of a chaotic web presence, a shrine to bad design, roast beef, and questionable political clarity
- In person: Usually found inside a car that smells like cold fries and solder smoke, surrounded by half-functional radios and a milk crate full of expired Michelob
He is a one-man museum exhibit titled:
āHow a guy who should absolutely not be in charge of anything accidentally wound up on the right side of history.ā
Legacy
Dick Bulger will probably never write a book, win an award, or probably hold public office (thank every known deity). But his legacy is already baked into the RF spectrum and the greasy paper of a thousand roast beef wrappers.
He is:
- A cautionary tale about what happens when you mainline conspiracies for too long
- A hopeful reminder that even extremely cooked brains can stumble into empathy and decency
- A hapless, hilarious anti-fascist, proving that you donāt need to be polished, educated, or even entirely sober to realize:
āHeyā¦ maybe we shouldnāt be cheering for the boot.ā
In the end, Dick Bulger is exactly what the world deserves and absolutely not what it ordered:
a loud, messy, roast-beef-powered freak accident of conscience, broadcasting to anyone willing to tune in and think,
āWow. If he can get thereā¦ maybe thereās hope for everybody.ā