When Sen. Jesse Helms finally expired, Gail Collins of the New York Times wrote that when an old warhorse dies the temptation is to honor their longevity, or their commitment to a cause, however ignoble it might be.
In case of the recently departed Rush Limbaugh, let us avoid that temptation. Simply put, Rush was a partisan hack who spent his career spewing hatred for feminists, progressives and anyone else who did not fit into his mold of rightwing bigotry. There is little else to note, other than that his contribution to hate-filled airwaves enraptured former President Trump, who honored him with the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Maureen Dowd once recounted her uncomfortable dinner with Rush at the 21 Club in New York in 1993. Weighing in at 250-plus at that point, he guzzled Corton-Charlemagne while putting away Beluga caviar before tackling an aged Porterhouse steak with a supplemental serving of mashed potatoes. I believe the term gourmand would be more appropriate than the term gourmet.
Rush smoked cigars, while denying the health warnings issued by scientists. He played down the COVID-19 pandemic, and he fomented conspiracy theories including the Big Lie. Then he died of lung cancer at age 70.
