Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?: Confessions of a First-Class Asshole

by Justin Ross Lee

  So if you act like a genuine human being to our foreign cousins, they’ll be both amazed and eternally grateful. And it does something for our standing abroad. No longer do we have to pretend to be Canadians or mute. Perhaps if we don’t all act like enormous pricks the second our passports get stamped, not only would it oil the wheels of travel, but Americans wouldn’t be number one on the shit list in every country on the planet, too.

  Of course, I’m not Mother Teresa. Sometimes people just deserve to get treated like shit. And sometimes acting like an utter fucking jerk can be equally effective in getting your own way (go back and check out the full-circle approach for pointers). And sometimes people are just dicks and need to be talked to like dicks. If the situation demands, I can be the most aggressive, annoying, weaselly cunt in this hemisphere. Honestly, I don’t give a shit. If someone needs to be yelled at, I’ll scream my fucking lungs inside out. But that shit’s exhausting. I don’t start from that position. But I can click into that mode pretty fucking quickly when provoked.

  So you charm from the bottom up. Start with the little people, and then move on to the middle management. Have some wisecracks ready. Empathize with the misery of their situation. Make sure they understand that you understand. They are not just some walking, mop-holding pieces of meat that can be barreled over or ignored. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to act like an asshole, don’t you worry. And if you don’t get what you want, you turn on the wrath.

  CHAPTER 12

  IN CONCLUSION,

  YOU’RE WELCOME

  I felt the most suitable way to conclude this life-changing and vital document that I assume you’ll keep close to your person at all times and consult at moments of spiritual crisis was to speak to someone who has shaped, influenced, and inspired me. A human being who has completely altered my worldview and helped me develop into the near-perfect Jew (you see, I do have some humility) you see before you. But after an extensive search I realized no one was appropriate. Except me. And so I sat myself down and probed my consciousness deeply for the purposes of this book and the betterment of man. You’re welcome.

  Who are you?

  I am Justin Ross Lee, a.k.a. JRL, a.k.a. seat 1A, a.k.a. the forefather of the field of JewJetting, a.k.a. the ego that attacked New York.

  And what do you do?

  Come on, Justin, you know I hate that question. You already know the answer: simply as I please.

  I’m sorry, I’m going to have to press you.

  You wouldn’t be the first. Practically every shiksa in the tristate area has tried. OK, fine, Wikipedia states “haberdasher.” But, in fact, I’m an explorer. I travel the world and make an impression on people. A big fucking impression.

  Some might question your definition of an explorer.

  Hey, look, I drop myself into completely uncharted territories and bullshit my way through unnavigated waters for the greater good, using only my innate charm and unparalleled wardrobe. I conquer places people have never even heard of and vanquish areas people fear to tread. I’m like Columbus with better diplomacy, and fewer kills. That sounds like a fucking explorer to me.

  Very impressive. And please accept my apologies. But how can you possibly accomplish all these amazing things?

  Great question. In order to travel the planet in the way that I am accustomed and use the world as my own personal plaything, I have developed a series of systems—as this book has hopefully taught you—to thoroughly infiltrate institutions required to help me succeed. In that way I am a pioneer. And, some have said, a virtuoso.

  I can completely understand that, but where would you like all this enterprise and brilliance to lead?

  Well, Justin, I simply can’t understand why airlines and the greater travel industry aren’t constantly trying to climb into bed with me to help them let me create a better way. I’ve got all the answers. They’d have to recognize their deficits and admit defeat. The industry is sick. And I’m the cure. I’m Frank Abagnale with an MBA.

  So would you consider him a role model?

  Nah. Role models are bullshit. The only role model anyone should have is me.

  And are you a role model to anyone?

  There are myriad tiny little JRLs out there watching me doing my thing on Facebook, picking up my tips. I get messages from people saying they’ve quit their jobs and started to follow my teachings like I’m the Dalai Lama or something. It’s scary. I’m shaping minds. I’m influencing the next generation. I’m setting trends. That actually frightens the shit out of me!

  So the thought of a legion of proto-JRLs JewJetting and dry-humping their way around the world concerns you?

  As long as I am safely on a yacht somewhere, watching all this shit go down from afar, anyone can do whatever they want. That’s always been my philosophy.

  Let’s get a little deeper . . .

  I say that a lot.

  Can you remember a particular moment that inspired your remarkable life?

  Yeah. I was thirteen or so. I’d just been thrown off this rich-Jewish-kid teen tour for biting some postpubescent girl’s nipple. They kicked me out in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere beige. Colorado, I think. I remember people wearing a lot of big hats, which thoroughly disturbed me. My parents, not for the last time, had to swoop in and come to the rescue. They had to pay to fly me home. Coach. I wasn’t impressed.

  I had nothing to lose, so I went up to the United Airlines gate jockey and spun them some completely bullshit story of hardship and misery and a rare genetic leg condition that required me to have an upgrade. And it completely fucking worked. The moment he tore up my original ticket and handed me a fresh one marked “1A” was the moment I realized that you can always take whatever you decide to take. I scored my first upgrade at thirteen, and I’ll never forget it. You don’t need to accept what is offered to you like a putz. There’s always something better if you fight for it. I was barely a bar mitzvah, and I’d learned an incredibly important lesson.

  So that set you on this path?

  Partly. It was my first time rearranging the system. Grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat. So rather than skulk home with my newly descended testes between my legs, I traveled back in style. It felt fucking huge.

  You spun gold out of shit?

  Very well put. You’re a bright guy. Yes, this set me on the path of never having setbacks. No matter what happens, you can always spin it into success. Look at me and Star Jones. She got me kicked out of a polo event. I looked like a schmuck. I felt like shit; it was hugely embarrassing. But I turned that incident into coverage. It was a valuable lesson. A kick in the balls can always be turned into a wonderfully erotic experience.

  What does your family make of all this?

  I think they used to be concerned, then they were just confused, but now they “get it.” Trying to explain the role of JRL to the woman who changed your diapers was a tough sell. But you can’t worry about what other people think. Regardless, my mom and dad truly are the greatest.

  Did your childhood scar you?

  Literally. When I was in fourth grade, I tried to impress this girl I had a crush on by attempting a complicated Rollerblading maneuver in front of her and a group of kids. I fell on my face and chipped a tooth. And I got laughed at by jocks. But this was another educational experience. You never impress anyone by doing the same shit as everyone else. You need to be unique. I’m always going to suck at Rollerblading, but I will always succeed at being different.

  So Rollerblading isn’t your secret skill?

  No, my secret skill is winning people over and getting them to do my bidding even though I come across as an obnoxious, pretentious prick. I should be someone that you immediately want to fuck over and hate—but select people love me! How do I manage that? Well, it’s a skill.

  Is there anyone it’s not worth winning over?

  Kids. Fucking kids. Especially on airplanes. What’s the point? They’re annoying and bring very little to the conversation.

  Is t
here any individual that you couldn’t win over?

  That dipshit Dean Doucheborn. From my prep school. I just couldn’t break that Christ fucker. But I could make his life a misery, so I decided to use that method instead. On a completely unrelated note, I find the idea of a grown man who decides to spend his entire life surrounded by adolescents incredibly creepy. Just saying.

  So your school days weren’t the best days of your life?

  Anyone who thinks that way must have had a particularly disappointing adulthood.

  Obviously it’s hard to beat being you, but would you consider ever being anyone else for a day?

  Howard Stern. He was social media before there was social media. He was loved, hated, and at the same time he was relevant. He grew into success having a soapbox tall enough that he can’t be avoided. If not Stern, then maybe Bill Clinton. Who wouldn’t want to have lunch with Bill Clinton? The shit that guy must have seen and dealt with. It would be fun to bounce ideas around with that legend.

  Would you ever be tempted into politics?

  Congressman Lee? Can you fucking imagine? No, I’ve done too much shit. My skeletons aren’t even in the closet—they’re all available online. No thanks. Politicians make rules for everyone else. I make up my own and then strive to break them. I don’t think anyone would vote for that.

  What if you could be a woman for a few hours? What would be the first thing you’d do?

  Thoroughly disrespect myself. Assuming I was a hot chick, I’d get whatever was coming to me. People are just instantly nice to you if you’re a hot chick. Good genetics are like winning the lottery. Everything is provided. There’s an entire industry in Los Angeles based around just being a hot chick. You don’t need to possess any discernible talent. Just look good. Holy shit, could you imagine? If my brains were in the body of a shiksa with an incredible rack? I’d take over the fucking world! The only problem with being a hot chick, though, is all the responsibility. You have to keep looking immaculate, or it will all crumble away. I’m not sure I could face doing that. I mean, let’s not kid ourselves. I have to have a pretty hardcore regimen just to keep JRL looking like JRL—but it’s nothing compared to a woman’s.

  So you’re not a fan of responsibility?

  The more responsibility I can shed, the happier I am. That’s my idea of a perfect day. Waking up and realizing that I have absolutely no obligation to anyone or anything unimportant to me. Just doing exactly what I want to do. Most people, if they suddenly decided to do that, their whole house of cards would start to tumble. Their entire existence is based around a shitload of but/ifs. I live right on the edge of those but/ifs, and the more of them I can eradicate from my life, the better it is. No responsibility, no repercussions. No clocking in. That’s freedom.

  But freedom to do what?

  Travel! Live. Experience the world, not your hometown. That’s what it’s all about! To get out of this or any time zone and into another, often.

  Is there anywhere you haven’t been to that you’d like to visit?

  More of Africa. That place needs to be JRL’d. Unlimited potential. Yeah, if I could get my hands on big chunks of Africa, that would be sweet. But, y’know, not in a 12 Years a Slave way.

  Is there anywhere you never want to visit?

  America. Been there, done that. As soon as I hear someone who sounds like me, I just want to run in the opposite direction. I’m aware of the flyover states. I’ve seen pictures. Walmart. That’s all you need to know. I travel to broaden my horizons.

  What do you say to people who are frightened to travel?

  It’s all over for you. Go back to your myopic nonexistence.

  But you must have been to some dangerous places. Aren’t you ever afraid?

  Oh, sure. I’ve been to places that trade in body parts. I was held at knifepoint for hours in Cambodia. I’ve been targeted in every hemisphere. But that’s all part of the fun. Keeps you on your toes.

  If you were a victim of crime, what would you be most afraid of losing?

  My matzo balls. Without them, I’m nothing. Truly, I could manage without anything else. And as I mentioned, I’ve been to places where they trade in even larger organs. Everything I do, everything I achieve, stems from balls. They are the source of all my power. You need balls to do my job.

  What’s the best advice you’ve been given?

  Don’t listen to advice.

  And who said it to you?

  Me. If I’d followed advice, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. I guess that’s more of a question. All you can do is do what you want. Whatever makes you happy. And then find a way to keep doing it. If you live for boning women, find a way to monetize it. Male gigolo may just be the career for you. Then write a book about it.

  If you’re doing the opposite of what people expect you to do, then you’re probably on the right track. Obviously, if people are telling you to stop strangling hookers, that’s not JRL telling you to strangle a boatload of hookers. But again, if it makes you happy, who am I to judge?

  JRL, you have had many fantastic accomplishments in your life, but what would you consider your greatest?

  Subversion. Convincing people, rightfully, that they shouldn’t do the thing that they are expected to do. Molding the minds of the young to embrace counterconvention. Nothing makes me prouder than fan mail from someone who says, “I want to be just like you.” It’s an awesome responsibility. And as you know, I don’t care for responsibility. But someone has to lead these kids to the promised land.

  Is that how you want to be remembered? As a molder of young minds?

  “Remembered” makes it sound like I’m going somewhere. And I’m not going anywhere—I’m going everywhere.

  How do you want the third act of the JRL story to play out?

  Watching people worldwide doing what I’ve taught them to do. Being synonymous with beating the system. Whenever there’s a story about shtupping the great institutions of the world, I want to be the first one that CNN calls for comment. I want to be the godfather of consultancy. And I never want to stagnate. I’m going to be always moving. Like a shark. Traveling everywhere with my best girl beside me.

  Best girl? Really? Is this a new side to JRL?

  Listen, I’ve ODed on sexcapades. The young me would never believe that could even be possible. But I hit the pussy pinnacle. There’s only so much you can do and have done to you. And don’t get me wrong, I loved every minute. But there’s nothing better than having a shiksa beside you that you can trust. Someone you can show the world to. Traveling alone is great, but there’s a certain intimacy to seeing a place through someone else’s eyes. Someone who makes you a better you. That’s true love.

  And how do you see JRL’s grand finale taking place?

  Ironically. I assume I’ll be on a plane. Why not go out doing what you enjoy? I just don’t ever want to die waiting in line. Can you imagine how depressing that would be?

  And what would you like written on your tombstone?

  “I can see up your skirt . . .”

  JRL, it’s been an absolute pleasure.

  Thank you, Justin. I completely agree.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  “Normal” people do what is expected of them. They embrace convention. They accept what seat or room they’re assigned. They don’t get excited by unattended housekeeping carts or holes in loyalty programs, and they never seem to challenge the status quo. I dedicate this book to anyone who has ever been told to act “normal.” If you’ve spent your life working harder at being yourself as opposed to the easier task of changing to be someone else, fuck normal. This book is written for you—and for the following people.

  My beautiful and loving girlfriend, Kate, who has always accepted my world of eccentricities, without waver.

  My adoring mother, the most devoted and caring woman on this earth. Thank you for understanding.

  My brilliant coauthor, Dale Shaw, for his British wit, literary talent, patience, and therapy.

  My tale
nted agent, Lisa Kopel, for her resilience and dedication to our project from its inception.

  Our publisher, Inkshares, and their appointments, for creating a judgment-free home for a first-time author who never fit in.

  ABOUT THE

  AUTHOR

  Justin Ross Lee is an entrepreneur, travel expert, and social media provocateur who has redefined the notion of modern fame and celebrity. He has created and cultivated a persona both online and off. Flying in excess of 250,000 miles per year, he has come to the attention of mainstream media and has subsequently been featured heavily in the popular press.

  Covered by a myriad of magazines and in the pages of the New York Times and the New York Post, JRL has headlined on such networks as E!, Bravo, VH1, and Fox News. His controversial appearance on The Millionaire Matchmaker was the most critically acclaimed episode of the season. He is the founder and purveyor of Pretentious Pocket, a world-renowned pocket-square company with sales in over two dozen countries.

  LIST OF PATRONS

  Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? was made possible in part by the following grand patrons who preordered the book on Inkshares.com. Your support was indispensable, and I am beyond grateful.