SPECIAL EDITOR’S NOTE: THIS ARTICLE IS WRITTEN IN THE STYLE OF RICK WAYNE. IF YOU JUST WANT THE RELEVANT FACTS, READ THE FIRST FEW PARAGRAPHS AND THE LAST THREE. IF YOU HAVE TIME TO WASTE, READ EVERYTHING UNTIL YOU GET BORED AND THEN READ THE LAST THREE PARAGRAPHS. AND DON’T LOOK FORWARD TO WHAT THE HEADLINE SAYS BECAUSE THAT WAS JUST AN ATTENTION GETTER. SUCKERS! YOU FALL FOR IT EVERYTIME….
It’s the only way to answer the obsession that the once venerable journalist allows to afflict him.
Everyone knows that in the 60s and 70s, Rick was hot for Compton. He would settle for nothing more than having Compton’s attention all the time. The fact that Compton was rather obsessed with the more dangerous and charismatic bad boy George Odlum must have prickled him.
Rick’s unending obsession with Compton only came to an end when he fell in love with Kenny Anthony in the late 1990s. But, of course, Kenny was not just betrothed, but married to the Labour Party and Rick found out that he was just a jabal.
Since their first falling out Wayne has obsessed about everything Kenny, from his wife’s spiritual inclinations to the guard hut out in his driveway. Is she a witch? Why does Kenny need special protection? And you ever notice that Kenny always has a moustache? What’s he hiding under that facial hair? He’s hiding something, I tell you. He’s devious! And moustachioed.
For his entire journalistic career, he has been haunted by some very provocative, homoerotic photos in which he modeled with the likes of Arnold Schwarzenneger. He would be the first to say that appreciation of the human form is not gay, not even always sexual at all. And that’s true. Plus, it was the 70s. Everyone did stuff they later regretted. I know. I was born in the 70s. I should never have done that.
|No pants. Thongs maybe....|
But anyone who has seen the photos will agree:
Fast forward to the mid-2000s and the murder of drum legend Athanasius Laborde. Laborde’s last profile pic on facebook was a portrait of nothing his black ass poking out of the Meditarranean Sea, while he was tour in Italy with Derek and them.
It was the most subtle and poetic way he could think of to tell the world what to do with him.
|Who say I gay? Oh, Rick? Well that makes sense...|
That tour was the only time I ever got to live with Laborde up close and personal. I actually ended up being his supplier because I knew some guys but he didn’t want to deal with their fagget bullshit. He tried to pay me profit, but I’d just buy more smoke for him. I’m a smoker, I ain no drug dealer.
Laborde had great times with an assorted variety of Italian pollastrellas and later some Spanish and Portuguese ones. Not that there weren’t maricones available if he was interested. They kept him happy, occupied and sane in Italy, where he couldn’t get enough good weed, just hash, hash, hash.
“Kiss my black ass!” he told the world, in that facebook profile pic. Raphaela, the costume designer took the pic. She reportedly also took quite a bit of something else that rhymes with pic. She didn’t really like him at first, but she seemed rather enamored by the time we were ready to leave.
“This guy’s gay,” the great, liberal anti-hypocrite concluded after deeply contemplating the matter for a whole six seconds.
“No, he’s not,” everyone who knew Laborde replied. “We would have known. It’s the arts. The gays don’t have to hide when they’re among us. In fact, that’s where the smart ones come for shelter.”
Now that he’s not able to be locked up, we can say with great authority, Laborde had very specific sexual preferences. He wasn’t just heterosexual. He was more specific and yet, more expansive than that limited term, hetero. Laborde was bigger than hetero. He had a wide variety of very specific preferences. Namely, he was into jailbait, old women, middle-aged women, poor women and rich women, white, Asian and black women. Also, Latinas and Pygmy women, Bush women, Eskimo women, Mongol women, Neanderthal, Cro-Magnon and Homo Erectus women. Oh, and ugly women. Yeah, Laborde was one of those enlightened gentlemen who knew the inner beauty of an ugly chick. Her deep, moist inner beauty.
Having sex with some of these women mentioned above is of course illegal and jailable. In typical fashion, Laborde spent his whole life telling the law to kiss his black, ephebophile ass. How much young t’ings and a big fat joint in his hand. Compre was a playground for his libido. It’s a wonder he didn’t get caught. I judged him harshly for that. But I was boy jealous of men who could get what I wanted.
Laborde was a lot of crazy shit and a few very bad things. He was a bluffer. A scamp, if not a scammer. He was a terrible paymaster. And he was not a hard worker. Labor was not for Laborde. He made sure he was the best drummer anyone knew personally so that he could play for a living and instead of work. In some circles, that counts as lazy. And punctual? Don’t talk about punctual because Laborde wasn’t it.
But Laborde was not, repeat NOT, into fellas. Not for anything but playing drums and smoking weed. If you, as man, didn’t have weed and were not playing or paying for music, Laborde had no fucking use for you. That’s a true, unexaggerated fact.
|Boots, las gwiyen. They go say you gay too...|
Awa! Rick based his mind the man exhibited latent homosexual tendencies, at the very least, because he wasn’t just telling the world to kiss his black ass on facebook, he was literally advertising black ass for lurkers, bullers, jockers and cock-knockers. And so was born an aborted legend, one that no one would buy, much less let live.
In the end, it seems Rick’s conclusion about Laborde’s ‘secret sexuality’ and it’s connection to his murder may have said more about the teller of the tale and his fantasy life than about anyone.
Which brings us back to his obsession with the former leader of the opposition.
Is Rick just gay for Kenny?
How else to explain that 90 out of 100 of his articles have something to do with Kenny? How else to explain to explain a hate so strong and long lasting? It had to be love. Love gone bad.
What do you think, Laborde? Is Rick a top or a bottom? Or one of those naughty ones who likes it all six ways? Obviously, he likes them light-skinned, but there’s no other accounting for taste is there? I’m from Compton to Kenny? Those two types have nothing in common but shabinesse.
No, Laborde, seriously. Stop laughing. I’m trying to analyze this thing.
(By the way, Mr Learie, did I just call you a faghole? Lemme check….nope. No, I didn’t. Thanks for
teaching me how to do that. I would never have thought of shit like that by myself. I was so naïve…til I met you….xoxoxox.lol.snark!)