He’s the huckster from Bumpkinville whose balloon of hot air did not drop down in Oz, but settled in a gated Florida compound.
Sequestered inside a glass radio booth, Rush Limbaugh is the loudmouthed wizard behind a golden microphone, the blubbery fraud who has enthralled a Munchkin universe otherwise known as “dittoheads.”
The scope of Rush’s hypocrisy has always been as formidable as his girth, and as obvious as his foot-long cigars. But what happened this past week showcased a slimy, kinky new dimension to the national blowhard, who’s been called the Godfather of the GOP.
In his zeal to brand Georgetown University law student Sandra Fluke a “slut” and a “prostitute” for arguing that contraceptive services should be covered under the school’s health insurance policy, Rush couldn’t quite keep the sweaty, leering horndog under the Ban-Lon golf shirt from revealing himself on the national airwaves.
“So, Miss Fluke and the rest of you Feminists, here’s the deal,” Rush said in a salacious frenzy. “If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, you have to give us something in return. And I’ll tell you what it is.”
Right about here is where the fat man in the glass booth appears to be rocking back and forth.
“We want you to post the videos online,” said a breathless Rush, “so we can all watch!”
Geez, I don’t know, but I’m thinking that maybe guys like Scott Brown and John Boehner really don’t want to watch those videos ... even in the privacy of Rush Limbaugh’s Florida Xanadu.
Regardless of which way people may come down on Sandra Fluke’s position, the undisputed truth of what happened last week solidifies the fact that Rush Limbaugh is one very weird guy.
He’s someone who believes so deeply in the sanctity of marriage that he’s married four times. He’s got no use for gay people in general, yet he reportedly slipped Elton John a million bucks to croon a few numbers at his last wedding.
Some years back, Rush was prevented from weighing in on former U.S. Rep. Patrick Kennedy’s misadventures with prescription drugs. Why?
Because El Rushbo had just come off a month-long suspension/rehab stint that included charges of doctor shopping, pill popping and enlisting his cleaning lady to help keep his cigar boxes filled with OxyContin.
Limbaugh’s yen for those “little baby blues” came close to deafening him, while definitely letting a good deal of hot air out of his balloon.
And yet, he remains the bloated Elmer Gantry of the whacked-out right, the fat man behind the curtain.
Or does he?
Late yesterday afternoon, on a day when he was conveniently off the air, Rush gagged on his arrogance and coughed up an apology.
I doubt it will be enough to bring back those sponsors who bailed after being treated to a full frontal view of Rush’s inner sleaze bag. But the fat man knew he had to do something.
El Rushbo’s big mouth, coupled with his misogynistic id, hastened his expiration date. The huckster from Bumpkinville understood he was spiralling at warp speed toward a hell far worse than suspension. It’s called irrelevancy.
Pity the dittoheads.
http://news.bostonherald.com/news/c...66&format=&page=1&listingType=col#articleFull
Sequestered inside a glass radio booth, Rush Limbaugh is the loudmouthed wizard behind a golden microphone, the blubbery fraud who has enthralled a Munchkin universe otherwise known as “dittoheads.”
The scope of Rush’s hypocrisy has always been as formidable as his girth, and as obvious as his foot-long cigars. But what happened this past week showcased a slimy, kinky new dimension to the national blowhard, who’s been called the Godfather of the GOP.
In his zeal to brand Georgetown University law student Sandra Fluke a “slut” and a “prostitute” for arguing that contraceptive services should be covered under the school’s health insurance policy, Rush couldn’t quite keep the sweaty, leering horndog under the Ban-Lon golf shirt from revealing himself on the national airwaves.
“So, Miss Fluke and the rest of you Feminists, here’s the deal,” Rush said in a salacious frenzy. “If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, you have to give us something in return. And I’ll tell you what it is.”
Right about here is where the fat man in the glass booth appears to be rocking back and forth.
“We want you to post the videos online,” said a breathless Rush, “so we can all watch!”
Geez, I don’t know, but I’m thinking that maybe guys like Scott Brown and John Boehner really don’t want to watch those videos ... even in the privacy of Rush Limbaugh’s Florida Xanadu.
Regardless of which way people may come down on Sandra Fluke’s position, the undisputed truth of what happened last week solidifies the fact that Rush Limbaugh is one very weird guy.
He’s someone who believes so deeply in the sanctity of marriage that he’s married four times. He’s got no use for gay people in general, yet he reportedly slipped Elton John a million bucks to croon a few numbers at his last wedding.
Some years back, Rush was prevented from weighing in on former U.S. Rep. Patrick Kennedy’s misadventures with prescription drugs. Why?
Because El Rushbo had just come off a month-long suspension/rehab stint that included charges of doctor shopping, pill popping and enlisting his cleaning lady to help keep his cigar boxes filled with OxyContin.
Limbaugh’s yen for those “little baby blues” came close to deafening him, while definitely letting a good deal of hot air out of his balloon.
And yet, he remains the bloated Elmer Gantry of the whacked-out right, the fat man behind the curtain.
Or does he?
Late yesterday afternoon, on a day when he was conveniently off the air, Rush gagged on his arrogance and coughed up an apology.
I doubt it will be enough to bring back those sponsors who bailed after being treated to a full frontal view of Rush’s inner sleaze bag. But the fat man knew he had to do something.
El Rushbo’s big mouth, coupled with his misogynistic id, hastened his expiration date. The huckster from Bumpkinville understood he was spiralling at warp speed toward a hell far worse than suspension. It’s called irrelevancy.
Pity the dittoheads.
http://news.bostonherald.com/news/c...66&format=&page=1&listingType=col#articleFull
