God Damn the Pusher Man

by Sabina C. Becker

Yes, I admit it: I laughed my ass off when Rush Limbaugh finally came out of the pill-popper closet--with a little nudge from his housekeeper and the National Enquirer. And why not? One thing that amuses me no end is seeing a blowhard caught in his own hypocrisy, only to flame out spectacularly. Didn't the Pigman say to Wilma Cline that she should score him an extra big load of OxyContin that last time in the Denny's parking lot, so he could "go out with a bang, if you know what I mean"? Seriously, this is funny stuff. Not for him, maybe, but for anyone who's had to put up with the deleterious effects of his crack-brained ravings on their otherwise reasonable friends over the years, it was priceless. Come on, fellow liberals, yuk it up--you are entitled, and you know you want to!

But, gentle readers, lest you accuse me of mean-spiritedness on a par with those pundits of the other side, let me assure you that I was not so amused when I heard how ol' Rusty was spinning his infelicity: It's not really my fault, he whined--you see, I had spinal surgery and it wasn't successful, so I got dependent on the prescription pain medication. He made a very big issue of emphasizing the prescription nature of the pain medication, as if it weren't also a drug, no different from heroin or crack, that can get you godawfully high and hopelessly hooked if you take enough of it. And yes, he took enough. Of his own volition, too. But damned if he didn't blame his doctor instead, as if the God in the White Coat were holding a gun to his head: "Pop those pills! Pop 'em, I say! Whatsamatter, boy--you deaf? Down the hatch, damn you, and don't argue with me--I'm your doctor and I know what's best for you!"

Well, isn't that just so typical of a right-winger? First chance he gets to own up to his missteps, he goes and shoves the blame on somebody else. Rank hypocrisy from one who preaches personal responsibility--what did you expect?

Well, I'm not buying his lame excuses, and neither should you. Here's why:

Firstly, if Rush Limbaugh had had spinal surgery, wouldn't we all have heard about it? He'd have to be off work for an extended period of time to recuperate from a major operation. Spinal surgery would require a hospital stay of several days, at the least. Wouldn't he have wanted his dittoheads to stay informed, so they wouldn't fret when missing their daily fix of lies and bloviation? But lo and behold, no word. Ha! What a trooper, having such a major operation and not telling a soul about it so no one would pray for him, or send best wishes...

What a load of horseapples.

You'd think that such an operation would stick in his mind, date-wise, even if he never mentioned it on the air. But he's maddeningly vague as to just when it happened, which is another tipoff that it never did. Come to think of it, he's never actually given a date. Hmmm...could that possibly mean that Mr. I-don't-make-this-up-folks is lying?

Need more proof? Okay...

Rusty is an avid amateur golfer, as he's proudly given us to know. Anyone who's ever seen a duffer teeing off knows that there's a spiral turn of the spine during that swing, as the club meets the ball and follows through. Now, anyone who's got chronic back trouble wouldn't be able to execute such a move. It would strain the ligaments too much. He'd be lucky to get in a birdie putt--that is, if he's not too incapacitated to stoop even that little bit. Which, you'd think, a man in such severe and constant pain would be. But no, Rusty never missed a stroke. His game might suck bananas, but it's not because of back trouble!

No, Rush Limbaugh can't blame his doctor for this one. Especially not since such a rich man as he could easily afford another operation, or even several, if he were really intent on fixing what was wrong with his back. And you'd think he would be, if he possessed even a fraction of the determination he's always boasting about. I mean, letting things slide into decline like that--isn't that the very kind of slackness he's always accusing us liberals of?

Well, this liberal can tell you that if she stood in Limbaugh's shoes, she'd not waste a minute--she'd be booking another surgeon, and if necessary, locating a pain specialist and a small army of physios, so the problem could be managed without a slide into addiction. (And not only that--I'd be out lobbying for universal, single-payer healthcare...but then, that's only li'l ol' bleeding-heart liberal me. Rush Limbaugh has yet to be moved one tenth of a hair's breadth in the direction of actual compassion for others!)

But of course, Limbaugh hasn't thought of anything that would require such a momentous amount of...get ready, folks, here comes that odious phrase...PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY. No, he's only too content to make excuses for himself, and blame his doctors for letting him get hooked on Vicodin, Oxycontin and Lorcet in quantities that would, as his housekeeper so quaintly put it, "kill an elephant"!

Ah yes...blame Rusty's doctor if you like, dittoheads. I would too, if I were a right-winger like you. It's ever so much more convenient than having to purge your minds of all the garbage that your Dear Leader has fed to you while himself remaining higher than a jumbo jet for years.

And besides, he's not the only rightard junkie. Adolf Hitler, for example: did you know he was a tweaker? Yes, it's true...before all those famous rallies in which he stamped and raved like a madman and incited millions of otherwise sane Germans to antisemitic bloodthirst, his personal physician shot him full of cocaine and methamphetamine. How about that, eh? The world's biggest fascist, hooked on coke and crystal meth, both of which were then still legal prescription drugs, and his doctor was the pusher...delicious, isn't it? Makes ol' Adolf seem so much more, well, HUMAN.

Of course, what would have made him truly human is if he'd realized that he had a problem, and that he needed help. And if he'd only had the courage to reach out for it. And if he'd subsequently developed the compassion for all those others he used to revile, and the realization that comes with sobriety: that others are not to blame for your problems, and maybe you aren't either, but damned if you aren't responsible for getting yourself straightened out all the same.

We lefties have no problem with that concept, but it seems that more than a few rightards do. And they're still hooked on that old right-wing brain-rotter: that someone else should always be left holding the bag.

God damn the pusher man.

©Sabina C. Becker, 2003