Goodbye, Rush


My smart phone news feed chirped at me this morning as I was returning home from a newspaper assignment in Farmersville. I took just a moment to see what was there: Rush Limbaugh has died of cancer at age 70.

I’ve been thinking ever since about what I ought to say about that. I will spare the invective I have used to comment previously about Limbaugh to offer only this.

Donald Trump called him a “legend.” Well … he isn’t.

Limbaugh earned his chops as a right-wing radio commentator/talk show host. He had the dubious distinction of telling falsehoods over the air, such as fomenting the lie about former President Obama’s place of birth and questioning whether he was constitutionally qualified to run for president of the United States.

He told enough lies, then, to be awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Donald Trump. By then, though, he was stricken with the cancer that would kill and, so, Trump rewarded him for saying nice things about the president.

Limbaugh’s impact on the American body politic is unmistakable. He did not advance the cause of civil discourse or understanding of complicated issues of the day.

I won’t miss him.

There. It took quite a bit for me to mostly forgo the epithets I used to toss at him, which is far better than he ever gave to those with whom he disagreed.

So long, Daddy Dittohead.