Even if you don’t read anything else today (apart, of course, from this not-to-be-missed column), you will want to read Rush Limbaugh’s superlative reflections in The Wall Street Journal on the latest liberal libel, the idea that criticizing the Democrats’ big-government agenda is tantamount to 1. sedition (a fancy word for “treason”) and 2. inciting violence.
I know, I know: to hear them tell it, Rush Limbaugh is a barely articulate (or is he a demonically super-articulate?) neanderthal, one of those “bitter” chaps addicted to “guns and religion” that candidate Obama warned about on the campaign trail.
Yet here he is on the editorial page of the nation’s most serious newspaper sounding like a cross between James Madison and George Orwell. How can that be?
I’m old enough to remember when Spalding Gray’s one man show Swimming to Cambodia was the biggest deal ever amongst the hipsters.
We were supposed to be really impressed that Gray came on stage with nothing but a notebook and a glass of water and delivered a four hour monologue about some events from his personal life.
If you’re asking yourself, “Hey, why would people voluntarily hand over money for hard -to-get tickets to a show that sounds like that horrible cocktail party I went to once, but without the booze?” — that just shows how uncool you really are, you douchebag.
The show was reportedly two years in the making. No wonder he killed himself. I’m surprised the audience didn’t do it earlier, then off themselves.
Yep, when Spalding Gray spent two years “working on” a monologue about events that actually happened to him, and performed it once in a while, and finally brought his own adventures in masturbatory self-absorbtion to an apt conclusion by drowning himself in the East River, he was a genius.
When Rush Limbaugh delivers an unscripted three hour monologue about things that just happened a few hours ago, to other people, and does that five days a week for twenty-five years, and makes $40-million a year doing it, he’s a moron.