Of all the reasons Rush Limbaugh has given me to hate him, this is probably the worst. He’s managed to prove that I’m not nearly as fine a person as I’ve always thought I was.
I just can’t stop laughing at his pain.
It’s just such a perfect storm of humiliation. Smuggling Viagra? Jesus, Rush, why not just have a picture taken of yourself with that giant cigar you love so much sticking directly out of your — well, you know what and then mail it directly to The Daily Show Or maybe dummy up a photo of yourself supposedly leg lifting 2000 pounds.
Surely no public figure has done anything quite this reckless (excluding starting wars) since a certain president (I mostly liked) stained a certain blue dress.
How about it Rush? Do you remember how much fun (if you can call it that) you had with Clinton over that one?
Did you really think you’d get away clean with something like this?
There’s a deathly serious side to all this, of course. It’s called hypocrisy; a concept that somehow seems to keep coming up where right wing blowhards like you are concerned. You know, like Mr. Morality himself, the always vivacious Bill Bennett, blowing hundreds of thousands of dollars on $500 slot machines. Or how about that cast of thousands (or so it sometimes seems) of Religious Right leaders who, when it comes to human sexuality, somehow don’t feel the need to practice what they preach?
Really, Rush, how dare you attack the morality and decency of others, while all the while insisting that the same rules don’t apply to you?
But all that notwithstanding, still, as a compassionate person I should feel sympathy for you. I really should.
But I don’t.
So damn you for that. Damn you for turning my heart to stone.
Or was it perhaps something else you were trying to do that to (sorry, couldn’t help myself)?
Postscript: Go here to join in the café’s conversation about Rush and his problems.