In His Own Words

He’s either really hot or extremely cold.

Apparently, Townhall saw fit to run a “tribute” to Rush Limbaugh that was written by his brother. I could do a takedown, but I won’t. Instead, I’m just going to quote this tribute and simply insert some of Rush’s own words in-between the paragraphs.

The tribute will be italicized while actual quotes from Rush Limbaugh will be in bold. Yes, the quotes are real, in case you were wondering.

Losing Rush has been tough. Until a few very long weeks ago, he was always in my life. Like other siblings growing up in the same home, we shared experiences that were exclusive to us. Our parents instilled in us — and we thoroughly absorbed — their Christian values: their love of God; their unconditional love for each other and for us; their belief in moral absolutes, of truth, of right and wrong; the paramount importance of family; the critical necessity of personal character and integrity; the value of human life; and the uncompromising duty to treat others with respect and compassion. No one perfectly succeeds in living out these godly values, but our parents equipped us, lovingly disciplined us and guided us.

“If any race of people should not have guilt about slavery, it’s Caucasians. The white race has probably had fewer slaves and for a briefer period of time than any other in the history of the world … And yet white guilt is still one of the dominating factors in American politics. It’s exploited, it’s played upon, it is promoted, used, and it’s unnecessary.”

Though Rush is now known to the world as a consummate talker, what is not widely known is that he didn’t start that way. He was first a listener — an information sponge, quietly inhaling knowledge at the feet of our dad.

“The NAACP should have riot rehearsal. They should get a liquor store and practice robberies.”

Rush was initially unassuming, respectful and focused, as if dedicating the first part of his life to acquiring the building blocks that would later serve him and the millions he was to touch when he would grow to full intellectual and professional maturity.

“Have you ever noticed how all composite pictures of wanted criminals resemble Jesse Jackson?”

From an early age, Rush was an avid reader, and he devoured the set of children’s classics our dad provided and encouraged us to read, accumulating a knowledge of life, human trials and tribulations, and the way the world works.

“Women still live longer than men because their lives are easier.”

Like our World War II fighter pilot dad, Rush loved aviation, even as a young kid. I lament that our dad didn’t live to fly on the various jets Rush purchased by using the very knowledge and skills he acquired from him and our mom.

“I mean, let’s face it, we didn’t have slavery in this country for over 100 years because it was a bad thing. Quite the opposite: slavery built the South. I’m not saying we should bring it back; I’m just saying it had its merits. For one thing, the streets were safer after dark.”

We loved baseball, and Rush was good at it. He had home-run power and became a good pitcher, not through an abundance of natural talent but by teaching himself how to throw curve balls, sliders and even knuckleballs, which he tried to teach me.

“The NFL all too often looks like a game between the Bloods and the Crips without any weapons. There, I said it.”

Almost everyone in our hometown of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, was a St. Louis Cardinals fan. But in a foreshadowing of his mischievous independence, Rush was a superfan of the Los Angeles Dodgers and in particular their shortstop, base-stealing phenom Maury Wills. Rush was obsessed with Wills’ base-stealing acumen and wanted to emulate it. He was intrigued that Wills could reach full speed on his second step down the baseline, and Rush diligently worked on developing that for himself. We didn’t go on many vacations as kids, but we went to a lot of baseball games in St. Louis and almost always when the Dodgers were in St. Louis for a series. Rush was so enamored with Wills that he wrote him a letter requesting an autographed picture, which I remembered when I serendipitously found the picture in my house during this last, very difficult year.

“I think it’s time to get rid of this whole National Basketball Association. Call it the TBA, the Thug Basketball Association, and stop calling them teams. Call ’em gangs.”

Rush practiced his skills as a broadcaster while turning down the volume on the television as we watched baseball games so he could call the games himself. Later, our parents gave him a Remco Caravelle, a toy that enabled him to broadcast on the actual radio airwaves within our home. Our mom and I logged many hours listening to his first days as a disc jockey and sports announcer.

“I think the media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well.  They’re interested in black coaches and black quarterbacks doing well.  I think there’s a little hope invested in McNabb and he got a lot of credit for the performance of his team that he really didn’t deserve.”

Let’s now fast-forward to his time in his adopted hometown of Sacramento, California, in the late ’80s. He mainly loved that city because it was where he came into his own as a broadcast professional after so many fits and starts, simply because he found a program director with the wisdom and courage to let Rush be Rush.

[To an African American female caller]: “Take that bone out of your nose and call me back.”

I was struck by how much he brought our parents to life in the practice of his art — exhibiting their qualities, talents and values. Rush was blessed with the best of both. He was Rush and Millie writ large.

“You know who deserves a posthumous Medal of Honor? James Earl Ray [the confessed assassin of Martin Luther King]. We miss you, James. Godspeed.”

Our mother was a comic, a singer, a natural ham and an entertainer; our dad was unusually brilliant, the small college national debate champion, a lawyer’s lawyer and the guy who would hold court in our living room to the fascination of our friends. But he never had the national platform that Rush would carve out for himself. Rush did our parents proud in a way that is indescribably gratifying to me.

“Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women access to the mainstream of society.”

As few others do, Rush lived life his way, and the world is immensely better because of his contributions. He was the tip of the spear from day one and took tidal waves of abuse from hateful leftists who devoted their lives to destroying him — and they failed. Rush was responsible not for the development of modern conservatism but for its explosion into the mainstream of American life. He paved the path for so many other great conservatives. The nation — and all of us — owe him deeply for this. He single-handedly resurrected AM talk radio.

“Let the unskilled jobs that take absolutely no knowledge whatsoever to do — let stupid and unskilled Mexicans do that work.”

Rush particularly inspired me to be the best I could be in both my law practice and my writing career. He entrusted me to handle his entertainment contracts and encouraged me to write columns and books. He pushed me to excel in both professions.

“What does it say about the college co-ed Susan Fluke who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex — what does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute.”

Rush was loving and unfailingly generous — the best brother, the best brother-in-law, the best uncle and the best cousin we could have had. In the weeks following his death, I have felt a deep and profound loss. We were in constant communication, supporting each other to the end. Every day since he died, I steadily find myself wanting to share something with him and instantly realize I can’t and will not be able to again until we meet in heaven. That hurts.

“Everything in Africa’s called AIDS. The reason is they get aid money for it. AIDS is the biggest pile of, the biggest pot they throw money into.”

But I thank God for Rush’s faith in Jesus Christ and for receiving him into a much better place, one with no more death, mourning, crying or pain.

“You’re a foreigner. You shut your mouth or you get out.”

One of the last things I said to Rush when he was still conscious and able to interact was, “I love you.” He looked at me and replied: “I love you, too. Big time.”

“‘Ching cha. Ching chang cho chow. Cha Chow. Ching Cho. Chi ba ba ba. Kwo kwa kwa kee. Cha ga ga. Ching chee chay. Ching zha bo ba. Chang cha. Chang cho chi che. Cha dee. Ooooh chee bada ba. Jee jee cho ba.’ Nobody was translating, but that’s the closest I can get.” — “translating” Chinese President Hu Jintao in 2011.

Goodbye, big brother. Thank you for being you and for being there for me all your life. I am so, so grateful for you — and may God bless you forever and hold you in His loving arms.

“That is a myth. That has been disproven at the World Health Organization and the report was suppressed. There is no fatality whatsoever. There’s no even major sickness component associated with secondhand smoke. It may irritate you, and you may not like it, but it will not make you sick, and it will not kill you…Firsthand smoke takes 50 years to kill people, if it does. Not everybody that smokes gets cancer. Now, it’s true that everybody who smokes dies, but so does everyone who eats carrots … I would like a medal for smoking cigars, is what I’m saying.”

My words were unnecessary. His own have done plenty to damn him over the years. They say not to speak ill of the dead, but no one has ever said that you can’t quote them.

About Silverwynde

I'm a Transformers fan, Pokémon player, Brewers fan and all-out general nerd. I rescue abandoned Golett, collect as many Bumblebee decoys and figures as I can find and I've attended every BotCon--official and non--since 1999. I'm also happily married to a fellow Transfan named Prime and we were both owned by a very intelligent half-Siamese cat, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on June 16, 2018. We still miss him. But we're now the acting staff of a Maine Coon kitty named Lulu, who pretty much rules the house. Not that we're complaining about that.
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