John Wayne was a grade A, no questions asked, guns blazing cocksucker. Why, you ask? Because his real name was Marion and he hid it from the world. But that’s not the only reason. Satan’s favourite Encyclopedic reference Wikipedia likes to etch Wayne into history as an American icon who “epitomized a rugged masculinity”. Wrong. It should read: “John Wayne was a nigger hater and a woman hater. And he peed on kids.”
“Awwwww, don’t be cruel,” you say. ”John had four ribs removed due to lung cancer.” Cruel? John had four ribs removed just so he could blow himself without his hairpiece falling into his lap. His first wife Esperanza tried to shoot him when he came through the front door, so go figure. In May 1971 when he admitted to Playboy magazine: “I eat as much as I ever did, I drink more than I should, and my sex life is none of your goddamned business,” Wayne wasn’t being coy. He was defending his right to the privacy of his Friday nights, when he reportedly went down on midgets in San Antonio urinals. In the same interview Wayne also blurted “The academic community has developed certain tests that determine whether the blacks are sufficiently equipped scholastically…I don’t feel guilty about the fact that five or ten generations ago these people were slaves. Now, I’m not condoning slavery. It’s just a fact of life, like the kid who gets infantile paralysis and can’t play football like the rest of us.” Try telling that one to some kid in South Central with an AK-47, John.
John Wayne was not an American Hero. Or a man of a “rugged masculinity”. He was a pussy. And a coward. And hid his thimble sized penis and his monkier “Marion” behind his spaghetti western pistol and his rancid, jerk off posturing.
“I’m looking at a tin star with a…DRUNK pinned on it,” Wayne famously spat in El Dorado. No buddy. That ain’t so. You were right in thinking that your ugly mug was staring at a cop’s badge. But it was pinned to you. And it simply read: “Cocksucker.”