Of course you knew Rush Limbaugh would say something appalling and crass about the death of Robin Williams. Just as an inflamed, military draft exemption-class ass pustule must ooze pus, Limbaugh must open his yap to let torrents of bile and self-righteousness spew forth.
Perhaps, in Limbaugh’s case, the docs removed the inflamed cyst from the man’s ass, tossed the man in the medical waste bag and then watched the cyst go on to have a fabulously successful career in hate radio. Seems possible!
Anyhoo, Limbaugh implied that Williams’ suicide was in some way linked to “the left’s worldview,” which he described as “one of pessimism and darkness, sadness.” You can sort of see where Limbaugh came by that impression since liberals are famous for fearfully skulking around with guns and bitterly lamenting the theft of “their” country, etc.
Williams’ daughter Zelda, who sounds like an apple that didn’t fall too far from the tree, anticipated that certain bile purveyors would attempt to make hay of her dad’s death:
To those he touched who are sending kind words, know that one of his favorite things in the world was to make you all laugh. As for those who are sending negativity, know that some small, giggling part of him is sending a flock of pigeons to your house to poop on your car. Right after you’ve had it washed. After all, he loved to laugh too.
I recommend dispatching a flock of vultures to crap on Limbaugh’s Bentley. Perhaps the late, great Lauren Bacall could summon them. She sounds like a woman who would have known how to respond to an ambulatory pustule like Limbaugh. Here’s an excerpt of Ms. Bacall’s obit in The Guardian:
Off screen, Bacall threw her weight behind liberal causes, campaigning for Democratic hopefuls Adlai Stevenson and Robert Kennedy, and enjoyed a reputation for being fiery and outspoken; a woman who did not suffer fools gladly. “Happy schmappy,” she scoffed to Vanity Fair. “I don’t think anyone that has a brain can ever really be happy.”
In old age, Bacall raged against what she saw as the mediocrity of contemporary Hollywood, as represented by everything from the career of Tom Cruise to the Twilight movies that her granddaughter dragged her to see. “She said it was the greatest vampire film ever made,” Bacall recalled. “After the film was over, I wanted to smack her across the head with my shoe.”
Instead, Bacall bought the child a DVD of FW Murnau’s 1922 classic Nosferatu. “Now that’s a vampire film,” she told her sternly.
Some guy I once knew told me that I sound just like Lauren Bacall. He was probably just trying to get in my pants, but I still cherish the compliment years later. Anyway, rest in peace, great lady, and here’s looking at you, kid.