The Rush Limbaugh Story: Part 2
In Which Our Hero Debates
(with himself)
"My friends," Limbaugh said into the microphone, his anger building with each word, "the liberals have an agenda. The feminazis have an agenda. The tree-hugging whackos," (he was satisfied with the way he'd just punched the word whackos, stretching a two syllable word into four or even five), "they too have an agenda. It's the same agenda, you know. The same agenda behind all of them." He glanced down at his computer monitor, making sure that he had all his facts straight one last time before he made his declaration.
Sure enough, the facts were staring back at him, organized into a chart and nigh-well irrefutable. Two years of exhaustive research that came to one inescapable conclusion. "The liberals, the feminazis…. They want to impede your ability to live your life. To make it impossible for you to make the choices that you know would be most beneficial for you…for your friends and family. They want nothing more than the reunification of the Soviet Union and, soon after, the destruction of everything this great country of ours holds dear. And when the Communists come marching in, who do you think they will put in charge of their new occupied territory?" He paused. He glanced down again. Just to be sure. "The Clintons, that's who."
He was on a roll and wanted to say more about this pressing subject, but the clock which counted down until the end of this segment of his show was nearing zero. Part of his responsibility as a radio commentator was to honor his commitments to his advertisers. After all, they paid his salary. "Be back after this," he said and pushed back, away from the microphone.
The break began. He had some time to think about what he'd said. The impact it would have. Limbaugh was concerned that his statements might be misinterpreted, that no one would believe him, that his study on the modern liberal would not be believed. But, if he was challenged, he'd simply reveal the cold hard facts he possessed.
His assistant came inside. "Need anything Mr. Limbaugh?" Jimmy asked. Limbaugh was in no mood to talk. "No, Jimmy," he said.
"Your water's low. Let me refill that." Jimmy reached for Limbaugh's half-full water bottle. Limbaugh made no effort to stop him. Jimmy was overeager, hoping to impress his idol every second of the day. Stopping Jimmy would only be followed by the young man's puzzlement and a request for an explanation of some sort as to why Limbaugh didn't want to be properly hydrated. The assistant took the bottle and left the room.
I just want to be alone, Rush thought as he lit a cigar. It was a thought that had recurred a lot in the past few months. Ever since his drug problem had hit the liberal media and his third wife had filed for divorce, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to remember why he scoured the newspapers everyday, why he watched Fox, CNN, MSNBC on a continuous basis, and why he searched the internet like some tech-savvy nerd. He knew the reason: he was seeking answers, seeking the truth. He'd been that way since that fateful day on the farm, so many years ago. He knew this. But he could not feel it. Not anymore.
And was it worth it? He'd failed to stop the September 11th attacks, despite knowing everything about the plot but the date. Everything but the mothercrappin' date, he thought, sighing. Maybe that was really when this need to be alone had started. Knowing deep down that he could have saved the lives of those people like he'd saved the kitten today… that he might have really made a difference for once.
One of the television monitors displaying a live broadcast of CNN cut to a shot of the Earth from space. It was a familiar site. Doing something about Global Warming, he speculated. But there were no supposed depleted coast lines on display, this was, apparently, just a shot of the Earth taken from a satellite in the last news cycle. The news team had touched it up, sped up the rotation, and outlined the countries of the world using a purple color Limbaugh found offensive. He scoffed. There's China. Of course they're going to show China. China's their last hope after we bash North Korea.
The Earth rotated to display the United States. Perhaps it was because this image followed so closely Limbaugh's disgust at the liberals' transparent plot to emphasize Chinese superiority or perhaps it was because today he'd faced a life or death situation and escaped with his life only due to his Midwestern ingenuity, but, whatever the reason, the all-too familiar shape of his country, America, filled him with such a deep and abiding sense of belonging that he rose to his feet. He was searching for his own answers, true, but there was also a country out there that needed him, that depended on him to provide such facts as he'd just revealed.
Yes, America, his home, was what counted. Limbaugh raised his right hand and held it flat against his forehead in a military salute. "God speed, good country," he said to the TV, his voice quiet, serene.
Jimmy came back, water bottle now full of filtered water, just as, Limbaugh felt assured, the country would be filled with answers. Why did they feel bad? There was only one answer. And it was staring at him from his computer monitor, the information organized into a chart and unquestionably irrefutable. "Thank you, Jimmy," Rush said, taking a sip from the water bottle. The young man, already on his way out of the audio booth, stopped in his tracks, turned, and looked at the broadcaster.
"What did you say, sir?" Jimmy asked.
"I said 'thank you, Jimmy'" Rush replied, repeating each word exactly so as to avoid any more confusion. Jimmy was reliable, a good kid, but he could be dense and, at times, acted as deaf as Limbaugh himself.
Jimmy nodded, said nothing for a moment, but Limbaugh could see tears welling up in his assistant's eyes. He's getting soft, Rush thought. Probably afraid of the fallout he'll have to endure tonight. Well, if he folds, I can find a new Jimmy. Be a damn shame, though.
"Thank you, Mr. Limbaugh," Jimmy said, though this confused Rush even more since he'd done nothing worthy of praise, not for Jimmy. If anything, he thought, I've made the kid's life harder and it'll only get worse from here. He only shook his head and said, "Get out of here now. I've got a show to do."
(with himself)
"My friends," Limbaugh said into the microphone, his anger building with each word, "the liberals have an agenda. The feminazis have an agenda. The tree-hugging whackos," (he was satisfied with the way he'd just punched the word whackos, stretching a two syllable word into four or even five), "they too have an agenda. It's the same agenda, you know. The same agenda behind all of them." He glanced down at his computer monitor, making sure that he had all his facts straight one last time before he made his declaration.
Sure enough, the facts were staring back at him, organized into a chart and nigh-well irrefutable. Two years of exhaustive research that came to one inescapable conclusion. "The liberals, the feminazis…. They want to impede your ability to live your life. To make it impossible for you to make the choices that you know would be most beneficial for you…for your friends and family. They want nothing more than the reunification of the Soviet Union and, soon after, the destruction of everything this great country of ours holds dear. And when the Communists come marching in, who do you think they will put in charge of their new occupied territory?" He paused. He glanced down again. Just to be sure. "The Clintons, that's who."
He was on a roll and wanted to say more about this pressing subject, but the clock which counted down until the end of this segment of his show was nearing zero. Part of his responsibility as a radio commentator was to honor his commitments to his advertisers. After all, they paid his salary. "Be back after this," he said and pushed back, away from the microphone.
The break began. He had some time to think about what he'd said. The impact it would have. Limbaugh was concerned that his statements might be misinterpreted, that no one would believe him, that his study on the modern liberal would not be believed. But, if he was challenged, he'd simply reveal the cold hard facts he possessed.
His assistant came inside. "Need anything Mr. Limbaugh?" Jimmy asked. Limbaugh was in no mood to talk. "No, Jimmy," he said.
"Your water's low. Let me refill that." Jimmy reached for Limbaugh's half-full water bottle. Limbaugh made no effort to stop him. Jimmy was overeager, hoping to impress his idol every second of the day. Stopping Jimmy would only be followed by the young man's puzzlement and a request for an explanation of some sort as to why Limbaugh didn't want to be properly hydrated. The assistant took the bottle and left the room.
I just want to be alone, Rush thought as he lit a cigar. It was a thought that had recurred a lot in the past few months. Ever since his drug problem had hit the liberal media and his third wife had filed for divorce, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to remember why he scoured the newspapers everyday, why he watched Fox, CNN, MSNBC on a continuous basis, and why he searched the internet like some tech-savvy nerd. He knew the reason: he was seeking answers, seeking the truth. He'd been that way since that fateful day on the farm, so many years ago. He knew this. But he could not feel it. Not anymore.
And was it worth it? He'd failed to stop the September 11th attacks, despite knowing everything about the plot but the date. Everything but the mothercrappin' date, he thought, sighing. Maybe that was really when this need to be alone had started. Knowing deep down that he could have saved the lives of those people like he'd saved the kitten today… that he might have really made a difference for once.
One of the television monitors displaying a live broadcast of CNN cut to a shot of the Earth from space. It was a familiar site. Doing something about Global Warming, he speculated. But there were no supposed depleted coast lines on display, this was, apparently, just a shot of the Earth taken from a satellite in the last news cycle. The news team had touched it up, sped up the rotation, and outlined the countries of the world using a purple color Limbaugh found offensive. He scoffed. There's China. Of course they're going to show China. China's their last hope after we bash North Korea.
The Earth rotated to display the United States. Perhaps it was because this image followed so closely Limbaugh's disgust at the liberals' transparent plot to emphasize Chinese superiority or perhaps it was because today he'd faced a life or death situation and escaped with his life only due to his Midwestern ingenuity, but, whatever the reason, the all-too familiar shape of his country, America, filled him with such a deep and abiding sense of belonging that he rose to his feet. He was searching for his own answers, true, but there was also a country out there that needed him, that depended on him to provide such facts as he'd just revealed.
Yes, America, his home, was what counted. Limbaugh raised his right hand and held it flat against his forehead in a military salute. "God speed, good country," he said to the TV, his voice quiet, serene.
Jimmy came back, water bottle now full of filtered water, just as, Limbaugh felt assured, the country would be filled with answers. Why did they feel bad? There was only one answer. And it was staring at him from his computer monitor, the information organized into a chart and unquestionably irrefutable. "Thank you, Jimmy," Rush said, taking a sip from the water bottle. The young man, already on his way out of the audio booth, stopped in his tracks, turned, and looked at the broadcaster.
"What did you say, sir?" Jimmy asked.
"I said 'thank you, Jimmy'" Rush replied, repeating each word exactly so as to avoid any more confusion. Jimmy was reliable, a good kid, but he could be dense and, at times, acted as deaf as Limbaugh himself.
Jimmy nodded, said nothing for a moment, but Limbaugh could see tears welling up in his assistant's eyes. He's getting soft, Rush thought. Probably afraid of the fallout he'll have to endure tonight. Well, if he folds, I can find a new Jimmy. Be a damn shame, though.
"Thank you, Mr. Limbaugh," Jimmy said, though this confused Rush even more since he'd done nothing worthy of praise, not for Jimmy. If anything, he thought, I've made the kid's life harder and it'll only get worse from here. He only shook his head and said, "Get out of here now. I've got a show to do."
posted by DMW at 11:07 PM
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