Thursday, July 22, 2021

Rush Limbaugh, RIP

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Reading via monitor/tablet is recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Intended for H. sapiens that are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant and polymath, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter [and cooler] than the av-er-age bear." 


Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"I say what I mean. I don't speak in code. That's why I am a star and ace communicator." -Rush Limbaugh

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

From the proceedings of the joint Committee For the Investigation of Intersectional Iniquities, established by order of Her Royal Highness and President for Life, Kamala Harris, 1/21/25. Senator Samuel T. Stumblebum presiding. 

"No, Senator, I declare, under oath, that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a ditto head." 

While I tuned in occasionally to the late Rush Limbaugh's radio show if I found myself out and about in one of my family's fossil fuel burning vehicles — now all recycled and replaced by battery-powered vehicles owned and assigned by the Ministry of Transport, of course — it was only for a few minutes at a time. 

I confess I was/am a bit of a Luddite and that while I love music, to this day I store no songs on my phone, nor do I have a clue as to how one would get them to play on what I still refer to as the "radio" in a car if I did. 

Thus, I used to check out talk shows on AM radio whenever FM music stations were getting on my nerves:

KRAP 99!  All soulless hits, all the time, created by celebrities with very odd hair and computer geeks with laptops!


RUST 93! Your station for classic rock! We will play no song you haven't heard a thousand feckin' times!

Until I couldn't stand it anymore and turned the "radio" off... If I could figure out how to do so."

"And nowadays?" asked Senator Stumblebum. 

"I just let the vehicle do the driving while I hum to myself or read comic books issued by the Ministry of Entertainment." 

"Comic books?"

Sorry, Senator, my age is showing, I mean graphic novels, of course. 

"Did you ever listen to the two pastry patriarchs hired to replace Mr. Limbaugh after he passed away?"

"Briefly, I gave up because I couldn't tell which one was which, among other reasons, and of course, now that they're both locked up and waiting, and waiting, for trial by the Intersectional Inquisition...

While I never, as I said, considered myself to be one of Mr. Limbaugh's ditto heads, he was, well, think of a real Italian hoagie with everything and not made by Subway, Mr. Hero, or some other corporate sandwich shop. 

As compared to his replacements who... Sorry, their names escape me just now. Think of a pair of boiled ham and American cheese with mayonnaise sandwiches, made with Wonder Bread, and wrapped, tightly, with Saran wrap." 

"Mr. Mehlmar, I must ask you to refrain from outdated and/or obscure cultural references and speak plainly, sir."

"Sorry, Senator. Let me put it this way. I didn't usually find him, or the shows prerecorded 'bits' particularly funny. I couldn't grok how he stayed motivated to keep talking about politics for three hours a day/five days a week, year in and year out, long after he had accumulated FU-level wealth. 

I never understood why fans would go to the trouble of struggling to have their phone calls answered, and then be screened, and then be placed on hold, hoping that their hero might permit them to speak for half a minute,


cutting them off and using their comment to launch yet another speech by a man who just couldn't seem to stop talking and never got tired of the sound of his own voice."       

"Mr. Mehlmar, you realize that you're under oath, correct?"

"Of course, Senator Stumblebum."

"Well sir, this committee has it on good authority that you have spoken highly of Mr. Limbaugh on more than one occasion," said the Senator, making a show of rustling some of the papers spread out in front of him in an exaggerated fashion.

"Hmmm... That explains why my "cellmate" vanished. I was afraid he had an appointment with a guillotine."

"Do you deny the accusation then?"     

"I do sir, I do. I merely expressed my admiration for the fact that in an age when even rock 'n' roll has been swallowed whole by our corporate masters, who no longer even had/have to pretend to be cool, cool in its vanishing original sense, Mr. Limbaugh was always looking for the line so he could step over it. 

Most importantly, he appeared to be having fun, and didn't give a tinker's damn if he triggered anyone. He was performing his art and shining a light on what he perceived to be the truth."   

"Take this, "columnist," back to his cell, immediately." 

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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