Saturday, September 3, 2011

And yet there are those who listen to him

A friend of mine once attended a rodeo and was amused by the antics of the star bull, a large fellow named Big Sid.  He said that he watched as the corral door flew open and Big Sid bulled his way into the ring, and that Big Sid's manner of entering the room reminded him  I do tend to enter a room with maximum energy, because, unless it's a room where root canals, MRIs, or Palin fundraisers are being held, I'm generally very happy to be there.

My thoughts are taking a turn toward that rodeo today.  If you've ever seen one, even on TV, you have seen rodeo clowns.  Dressed up like Steven Tyler, these men (I don't know if any women have gone into this line of work) have the unenviable job of protecting a cowboy who has dismounted- voluntarily or otherwise - whatever animal he was previously riding. The cowboy often finds himself down and dazed, easy prey for the future stack of Quarter Pounders, and so the clown in his colorful raiment runs around, distracting the bronco, steer or whatever, while the cowboy limps off for help.  In essence, the clown is a temporary alternative target for the bull, just to provide a humorous diversion.

Similarly, the Republican party has a rodeo clown named Rush Limbaugh, whose job it is to amuse the madding crowd and keep their attention off things that might harm them, such as Palin fundraisers.  This week, the drug-addled buffoon from Florida fulminated that President Obama was disappointed that Hurricane Irene was not more severe than it was.  These hateful words actually oozed out of his filthy mouth:
"I'll guarantee you Obama was hoping this was going to be a disaster as another excuse for his failing economy," he said. "If he's out there blaming tsunamis, blaming earthquakes, this one [was] made to order, but it just didn't measure up."

This storm killed, last I heard, 26 people.  Billions of dollars in property and countless hopes, dreams and possessions were lost, and this Limbaugh claims that the president wishes it had been worse.  

He is the rodeo clown, sitting in Florida, gobbling narcotics, getting married time and again, a bloated lonely sick horror of a human being, paid to dress like an ass, smoke cigars like an ass, and speak like an ass, to take the minds of the easily led down an amusing path.  I wish him no ill will.  Surely our creator has His own plans for such a person.  

But my advice - just my opinion -  is not to be too close to him when lightning is in the forecast.  Big man going down someday.  Don't be too close. 

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