Muthafuck him and John Wayne

It is common practice on the internet to use images in lieu of arguments. I myself am not innocent of the practice. Images work well for the TV and computer age. They're simple, pithy, and the modern person's mind is conditioned to respond to pictures more than the written word. The issue, I think, is not weather or not using images as arguments is a bad thing (Yes and no) but what a given image says about the person using it.

Take the image above, John Wayne standing in front of the stars and stripes with his pelvic reason thrusting out and expressing disgust that Latinos have so infected our culture that he has to wait an extra five seconds to confirm that he wants to purchase his Extenze pills in English.*

The sentiment is absolutely disgusting, of course. It exposes the anti-Latino crowd, (Yes I know, you're only against illegal immigration. Save it. I have ears, I hear what's being said about 'those people' at bar stools and dinner tables. Don't piss on my back.) as the selfish, childish, narcissistic thugs they are. They believe that there is a narrowly defined standard American and that they are it. The rest of us are here to serve them and provide them with every petty convenience without complaint. If we dare to suggest that our differences from them make us anything less than inferior to them, then we are social
cancers who must be eliminated. Some say that bigotry is caused by lack of education or a "natural fear" of people and things that are different. This is being too kind. Bigotry is caused by self-worship, disguised by the flag. It's as simple as that.

But now let's get to what's really important here, John Wayne. John Wayne was, and, through the immortality of cinema, always will be, absolute human trash. His white-trash reanimated corpse can suck the lint out of my pubic hair while I drink foreign beer and read Nabokov. Fuck John Wayne, and fuck his fans.

Millions of small, angry little men, especially in the sorts of places where I grew up, consider Wayne to be the paragon of American masculinity. The scene in "The Quiet Man" where he drags his wayward wife by the hair through a bucollic Irish village while all the townspeople cheer makes Wayne's fans feel warm inside. Oh yes, rock-hard American values in action.

It's well-known that Wayne's fans are overwhelmingly male, which is amusing to no end. Let's be clear; there is no such thing as a man having an objective appreciation for the manliness of other men. If you are a man who is impressed by John Wayne's masculinity, you are gay. And not only are you gay, you are a 'boy', a 'toy', a 'bottom' and a 'bitch'. You want to meet John Wayne out on the lonely trail with both of you cocking your guns and blazing away, and you want to come out on the losing end.

So if you see the above photo on an internet political thread, this is what the poster is telling you; "I am a arrogant, bigoted, submissive homosexual, and only the most well-built, clean-cut white man is good enough to ride my train." Someday , dear reader, your powers of anaylisis might be half as good as mine. In the meantmime, just eavesdrop on the local truck stop conversation and know that I am right.

* A friend of mine recently attained the free trial package of Extenze. (Strictly for the humor value, of course.) It comes with eight or nine pills, a couple of brochures, and some truly abhorant pornography. I wish I could get the image of the sixty pound man pounding away while his mediocre-looking ladyfriend moaned unconvincingly. I'm not joking about the sixty-pound thing. His languid thrusts caused his spine and ribcage to protude at least six inches through his skin. I haven't been eating well for the past two days.