Rush Limbaugh’s Emotional Apology to His Family

April 4, 2009 in General by Christopher Howell

Rush Limbaugh’s cousin, Julie Limbaugh, shares what it’s like growing up a liberal Limbaugh. The opening paragraph sounds like a dream I had last time I mixed tequila with Strawberry Yoo Hoo: (h/t Allahpundit)

I find myself in Rush Limbaugh’s library standing next to a leather couch upon which Ann Coulter is perched. The room is festive — crowded with relatives, wineglasses, cigar smoke and loud conversation. I am glaring silently at my mom from across the room with my arms crossed in the “unapproachable way” I know she hates.

Of course, in my dream, Ozzie Smith then tags me out, and all of my teeth fall out.

Julie’s point is to humanize “Cousin Rusty,” as she calls him. The story is rife with grainy, home-movie imagery that does the job effectively. I half expect to learn that Rush is the way he is because little Winnie Cooper broke his heart.

But Limbaugh, perhaps unintentionally, resolves the contradiction for us in this paragraph:

One Thanksgiving he stands in front of all us relatives in his Versailles-looking living room, and before my grandpa prays over our meal, Cousin Rusty apologizes. He says he’s afraid he has made it tough to be a Limbaugh this past year, and his voice breaks like I have never heard it do before. Cousin Rusty is OK.

See, that’s the thing. He isn’t OK. He just told you he isn’t OK.

I’ve become very familiar with the pitfalls of humanizing our ideological foes. Before I met Caleb Howe, I literally hated his guts. I would see his guts on the street and sneer at them. About 2 hours into our coverage of the DNCC in Denver, we were lifelong friends.

At CPAC, I had a chance to interview Joe the Plumber, a guy who I spent months mercilessly trashing. He could not have been nicer, going out of his way for a fan, and defying his handler by finishing a tough interview with me.

During the same conference, I met combative Media Malpractice filmmaker John Ziegler, with similar results. Before CPAC, we couldn’t stand each other, but we have formed a wary friendship.

The list goes on. It’s always a different story in person. The bravado drops, the niceties of human interaction cool the partisan fire. It’s the main reason I didn’t introduce myself to a particular person at CPAC, because I wanted to retain my outrage.

Still, in all of these cases, we maintain the ability to step into the political arena and have at it. I’m sure if I met Rush at one of Caleb’s cocktail parties, I’d like him just fine. We’d share a moonshine shandy and accuse each other, good-naturedly, of hurting America.

The difference is, I don’t think that John, Joe, Caleb, or I would ever feel the need to apologize to our families for what we say. Rush trades in provocation for it’s own sake, in service only to himself. It might bring home the bacon, but apparently, it’s nothing to be proud of.