Reason Rush Limbaugh Should Be Forced To Sell His Body For Smack Like Any Self-Respecting Junkie:
Rush Limbaugh, open racist, anti-drug use crusader, and rehab failure, admitted on Friday what everyone knew already: that the fat clown isn't smiling on the inside. Addicted to painkillers like Oxycontin, taken to mitigate, he claims, alleged back pain, Limbaugh announced that he was taking responsibility for his problems and, despite having done so twice before, was heading back to rehab. So here's what a pussy this guy is: he presents himself as doing the right thing and admitting his failure. But, and come on, I mean, fuck, really, had he not been outed as a junkie, he'd have gone right on using. He could have gone on being batshit insane on the air, his drooling listeners thinking about his sweet ass in their faces, and no one would have known. So Rush doesn't get the high ground, at any point here. Instead, think of him sobbing like a punk ass bitch on his king bed, weeping like some cold turkey middle-aged housewife in an Oprah-produced movie of the week, begging his sobbing spouse for one more pill, c'mon, baby, just one more for the road, and she's sooo tempted to end his sweats and shaking, but she doesn't succumb, she's the strong one, she knows, and he howls, fucking howls at being caught. God, he's such a pussy.

There's an old joke that's apt here: A man is sitting in a bar, drinking, talking to the bartender. He says, "A man can work his whole life building bridges. Do they call him John the bridge builder? No. He can work his whole life putting out fires. Do they call him John the fireman? No. But you fuck one goat . . ." Like Pee-Wee Herman and Bill Clinton, Rush is a goatfucker. Whenever you hear him, see him, or dream about him, he will always be the guy who got his maid to get him drugs. And the Rude Pundit is giggling like a schoolgirl getting her first fingering at the thought of it.