The grandchildren of a lot of old coots will have an unwelcome surprise under the Christmas tree this year! Rush Limbaugh’s demographic is shrinking and he needed to find an audience as gullible as his ditto heads – sorry kids!
I was perusing the internets for an American history book for my 11-year old nephew, when I was cold assaulted by this shit:
from “Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims”, a children’s history book by Rush Limbaugh:
“Okay, okay, my name’s really Rusty—but my friends call me Rush. Rush Revere. Because I’ve always been the #1 fan of the coolest colonial dude ever, Paul Revere. Talk about a rock star—this guy wanted to protect young America so badly, he rode through those bumpy, cobblestone-y streets shouting “the British are coming!” On a horse. Top of his lungs. Wind blowing, rain streaming. . . .
Well, you get the picture. But what if you could get the real picture—by actually going back in time and seeing with your own eyes how our great country came to be? Meeting the people who made it all happen—people like you and me?”
Someday, I hope to be able to pay for my gluttony by publishing books that blatantly troll the media, slander entire races of people, attack the concept of educating children, and soil the field of history for my own enrichment. Rush Limbaugh is truly living the dream. Specifically, the “Old Hag” dream, where you squat revoltingly on your paralyzed victim’s chest, murmuring obscenities while crushing the breath out of them. In Rush LImbaugh’s historical fan fiction about himself, befitting a man of great narcissism, the book’s hero is “a fearless middle-school substitute history teacher named Rush Revere.” Rush’s fantasy alter ego travels back in time and experiences American history as it happens. The book’s cover is emblazoned with a hilariously smoothed over, slimmed down, colonial-garbed caricature of Limbaugh (that also incidentally serves the logo of his patriot-themed brand of iced tea*).
The story itself is based on a heart-warming Thanksgiving-themed tale about the first harvest feast with the Wampanoag. Forget inviting the locals over to give thanks to God for not wiping out the entire colony in its first year after the indigenous population was obliterated by smallpox and the Pilgrims allowed them to build their settlement on what was left behind by the decimated population, or, as Rush sees it,
“The true story of Thanksgiving is how socialism failed.”
Rush wants to “set the record straight on American history”. Of course, in Limbaugh’s version of Thanksgiving, there will be a complete chapter on Rush’s Revolutionary War Hero, Hector Heathcote, and he made sure to stress that his book— one he hopes will be the first in a series— has no political agenda. He promised his “listeners”:
“The true story of Thanksgiving. There’s no politics in this.”
But, you see, Limbaugh’s told his version of the Thanksgiving story before – how the settlers of Plymouth Plantation nearly starved because they had socialism forced upon them, but finally prospered after they became capitalists. And they shared their bounty with the Indians. Actually, they sold some of it to ‘em. With all the great expectations and high hopes, socialism failed. And self-reliance, rugged individualism, free enterprise, whatever you call it, resulted in prosperity that they never dreamed of. He once concluded his oft told tale like so:
“The true story of Thanksgiving is how socialism failed. With all the great expectations and high hopes, it failed. And self-reliance, rugged individualism, free enterprise, whatever you call it, resulted in prosperity that they never dreamed of.”
Sure, the Indians got displaced and killed and whatnot, but when you steal something from someone and then sell it back to them, they call that capitalism – it’s the American Way. They also had the privilege of buying stuff from Americans! Lucky ducks! We gave them warm bathrooms, comfortable shoes and plenty of white womenz we could pretend they raped and kill them for and still they won’t shut up. Heck, we sold them the blankets but threw in the smallpox for free!
Hopefully at least, there will be drug addled citations and footnotes for 6 year olds to laugh at. If there’s one source we would look to for serious historical scholarship about Thanksgiving, it is a bloviating draft-dodging hostile bag of goo like Rush Limbaugh! A tidbit from the book (not really):
“Kids, there are times in a Turkey’s life when you gotta make an anal cyst excuse. Like when you’re asked to fight in a war you support with all your heart as long as other Turkeys (especially the Jive Turkey variety) go in your place because you love US America soooo much. Sometimes a Turkey just loves his woman, but there are times when he needs to get away so he flies to the Dominican Rep for some relaxation with Turkey pals, but you need to be careful and not take someone else’s giblet medicine or you will be mocked by the cruel Turkey liberals. Then Rush Revere got high and ate the whole damn turkey, O.D. on stuffing which caused him to lose his hearing. The end”.
The book has racked up thousands of 5-Star ratings on the Amazon, as apparently their are legions of dopes so invested in their prophet of “free enterprise” and the traditional value of hating one’s enemies (American citizens), that they would actually indoctrinate their children with fictitious co-opted versions of real persons from American history surround by glittery, hackneyed fantasies. There are already reams of children’s literature for those who see American patriotism as a value to grow up with – one might wonder what else would prompt parents to further enrich a man who has already sacrificed three marriages and all too many cigars and off-market pills on the altar of his vanity, all the while spewing countless deceptions shrouded in comedy or controversy as pearls to his flocks of entranced followers.
Anyhoo, what, exactly, inspired Mr. Limbaugh, a man who has never fathered a child, to share his Thanksgiving wisdom with the kiddos?
“My wife Kathryn came up with an idea that literally lit a fire under me.”
Literally lit a fire under him. You’ve no idea how much I wish that sentence were literally true, lighting a fire under that sack of shit would be eleventy exploding poop lagoons! With all of the book’s inaccuracies and just plain invented history, it’s far more likely that “my wife Kathryn came up with an idea that literally lit a fire under me,” was her saying “die in a fire, you 5-time divorced, anal cyst bearing, Oxycotin binging, Dominican rentboy chasing hate monger, who has never fathered a child”.
“She said, ‘You know you’re always talking about how history is being mistaught. You’re right. You’re always talking about what kids are learning these days, and they’re not learning about the greatness of America. They’re not learning about the founding days. They’re not learning the right things about the great people, the exceptional people in this country.’ She said, ‘Why don’t you write a book for kids?’”
It is the delusional thinking process of Kathryn Rush Limbaugh, a 30-something year old Florida event planner, that’s the real mystery here. The good lady – an (apparently) sentient, actual woman trapped in fat-goat paradise, bound in holiest matrimony to a sweaty, loathsome, snorfling, terribly inelegant and not-nice person – sorts through the detritus of her husband’s three (?) previous failed marriages. She reads about his homosexual affairs while at one of the worst schools in the country, SE Missouri State college (from which he flunked out). She hears him call Obama supporters ” sycophants who are going to die of anal poisoning”, and reads about his vigorous support of the Vietnam War while personally dodging the draft – via anal cyst excuse – thus saving himself from military service in order to lift our flagging morale in the years since. Every single day, Kathryn is face to face with his bloated visage, his overeating and his addiction to heroin-like drugs Oxycodone and Hydrocodone. She looks shamed on stories of his 2006 sex tourism romp to the Dominican Republic that led to his being detained at Palm Beach International Airport by the DEA and customs officials who confiscated illegal Viagra from her husband’s dop-kit. Florida loves its sports, yet this Florida native knows her husband has made a career out of stereotyping African-Americans as violent savages and criminals, was deemed too racist for the NFL, and that he called pro basketball players “Crips and Bloods”, and called for the abolishing of the NBA. Kathryn watches her betrothed strut around with a huge, foul, phallic cigar sticking out of his snarling mouth. She listens to him call women “sluts” and “feminazis” on his radio show. And where does all this lead Mrs. Rush Limbaugh? Why, Wife #4 concludes from the massive pile of evidence before her that her husband needs to write a book, on American history, for children. Kathryn Rush thinks back in shame on her husband’s 30-year record of analyzing everything through an over-simplified, partisan, sensationalized, and nationalistic propaganda Oxy haze, and suggests he put the family name on a ghost-written, error-ridden screed from a barely literate Republican propagandist, despite the fact that her husband still has books in his own personal library that he has yet to finish coloring. Sorry, Mrs. L, you won’t be able to distract Big R forever. Eventually, that porcine narco-gaze is going to settle on you and the overriding wife-related question that inevitably bubbles through what remains of that confused, drug-addled brain of his will rise to the level of what passes for consciousness in Limbaugh:
“It ain’t for sex, and everybody knows that for sure…so what exactly is she doing here?”
Then, just like all the others who came before you, you’ll be booted out the double-wide, brass encrusted Limbaugh front door. Then you can count your lucky stars that you are no longer entwined with a horrible monster ruined by drugs and hatred.
Anyhoo, be on the lookout for the sequel to “Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrim”s: Thanksgiving 2, Pillaging Boogaloo. This one covers the story of slavery, about how the African savages begged the white man to save them and bring them to this wonderful new place called “America”—a place where the savages would get new names that white folks could pronounce, and learn the value of a hard day’s work. It ends when those ungrateful new Americans decided they wanted a slight raise in pay and embraced 19th century Marxism, thus ruining the lives of many good, God-fearing white folk.
“Two if by Tea”:
* Being a media mogul, and because Oxycontin and underage Dominican rent boys aren’t going to pay for themselves, and because why shouldn’t Rush Limbaugh cash in on the Tea Party, Rush made sure to vertically integrate the hell out of his book. “Rush Revere,” rides around on a talking, time-traveling, time-stopping horse named Liberty who is always hungry (feel sorry for his horse!), America like a modern day hero, ringin’ bells and singin’ songs, and telling’ us all about patriotism by selling us crappy Snapple knockoff tea. Heartwarming, eh? Now if Rush can just find some Injuns to sell his soft drinks to, America’s greatness will be restored. I commend his bravery in promoting the drink of our motherland, tea, rather than the brew of coffee that the Quaker pacifist yankee traders afflicted our nation with. I mean, it’s not like the whole point is that the colonists stopped drinking tea, and started drinking coffee, to protest the tea tax, right? This patriotic tea is tea harvested from pesticide and fungicide treated genetically modified plants grown upon on the treacherous piedmont soil in liberal Taxachusetts. I presume it is grown in irrigated petrochemical fertilized soil, harvested by free market imported child labor and stabilized to rigid standards by additives.It’s steeped in a weird slurry of Tea Party paranoia, false history, American flags, and Bibles, and it tastes just like fear and white man’s resentment. Ah, the nectar of the Empire!
the horse looks positively wigged out and who can blame him!
Hopefully, Rush put his prescription-drug-haze philosophical ramblings on the side of each bottle like with Dr. Bronner’s soap! That would be rad. And if you look closely, you will see the recycling symbol on the bottle which is weird when Rushbo viciously criticizes environmentalists. I investigated this on his website – I am fine, thanks – and he mansplains that having a recycling symbol on each Two If By Tea™ bottle is merely for labeling and industry requirements. It is not meant to be a political statement of any sort or an attempt to “Save the Planet” as many environmentalist wackos would suggest.
So, the big questions is: are we supposed to throw Limbaugh’s tea out the window, or dump it in the ocean? Since Massachusetts has strict environmental laws, I suggest we flush it down the toilet, like his stash before a DEA raid.
