Derp Calling Orson

« August 2014 »

Memo to Rush Limbaugh, Kevin Burke, and John Nolte: YOU ARE DUMB.

Ah, there's nothing like a sudden, unexpected celebrity death to bring the stupid crawling out of the woodwork. So it has always been, so it shall ever be, and of course, so it was with Robin Williams. Williams, as you all know, lost his lifelong battle with mental illness and addiction at the age of 63, and despite a very uneven IMDB listing filled with iffy projects, was still a major talent and an important part of comedy history. See, IDIOTS? Was that so hard to say, instead of SAYING THE DAMNDEST THINGS?

"He had it all, but he had nothing. He made everybody else laugh but was miserable inside. I mean, it fits a certain picture, or a certain image that the left has. Talk about low expectations and general unhappiness and so forth." - Rush Limbaugh, far enough off his game to warrant inclusion.

Oh, Rush. What is it. Oxycontin withdrawal? Lack of sleep? Usually, your entire purpose for being is to take a tragic event, and through the flimsiest of paper logic chains, exploit that tragedy in the most vile, toxic way possible. It's nothing personal. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, Rush Limbaugh's got to embody the worst of humanity for a big fat check on the radio because, really, what else is he going to do? He's only got the one marketable skill.

Which is why this part of a longer, even more incoherent rant, is so goddamned disappointing. He killed himself because of a sort of general unhappiness common to the left? That's the weakest of sauces. It doesn't even make sense. I mean, if having it all and it not being enough is a leftist malaise, then why aren't all our bodies being found by the police? You're slipping, Rush. Good thing you've got Ferguson to restock your hate with some old-fashioned racism.

"Is there a relationship between Robin William’s descent into drug addiction and depression that began in the 1970’s and his past abortion?” - Kevin Burke, of LifeNews, showing Rush how it's done.

Yeah, that's it. That makes perfect sense. Forty years of lingering guilt over an abortion is what pushed Williams over the edge. Sure, in the intervening time he had a few wives and three kids, but clearly it was the decision not to change the entire course of his life and career because he knocked up a girlfriend that ate at him.

I don't blame Burke. Well, I do, but let's pretend that I don't for the sake of argument. Of all the wingnut subspecies, the embryo-fetishists are the ones most committed, in every sense of the term, to tying their pet issue into every possible aspect of life and culture. African-American poverty? Blame abortion! Dead comedian? Blame abortion! Clogged drain? I'm sure it's Margaret Sanger's fault somehow. Burke can't help it. He's controlled by the visions of millions of ensouled blastula crying out for him to save them.

"His eyes informed us something else was going on, something deeper; that the character was holding something back, a touch of madness, a secret, and the secret wasn't a very happy one." - Big Hollywood's John Nolte, the old softie.

I almost want to give Nolte credit here. Unlike Rush, Burke, or Shepard Smith, who had to apologize for calling Williams a "coward" on Fox, John Nolte's obvious fanboyism for Williams led Nolte to tap into his long-neglected sense of empathy and wax poetic.

Hilariously poetic, of course. Nolte, longtime crusader against the Left's feminization of American maledom, performs the kind of amateur, post-hoc psychoanalysis that would make a uterus wearing a Laura Ashley dress begging him to grow a fucking pair. Sure you could see the sadness in his eyes, you incredibly perceptive wingnut movie critic, you. Sure you could.