October 8, 2003     eSLASHculture 2.36

-The following is an excerpt from the October 8th, 2003 edition of Inside People magazine.

Deep Inside Rush Limbaugh

    Whether he is badgering a left wing phone caller, browbeating a liberal congressman, or just bellowing his unfocused rage about the sad plight of wealthy, middle-aged, white men in American society, excitement and controversy follow Rush Limbaugh wherever he goes.

    Recently on his day off Rush Limbaugh graciously allowed Inside People to tag along and get a close look at the real Rush Limbaugh.  If like us you were expecting a day of hate mongering and divisive rhetoric from a racist blowhard, then you are in for a surprise. 

    The man who answered the door on a perfect autumn morning in Greenwich Village looked like Rush Limbaugh - that twinkle in his eyes, that weak chin and soft jaw - but different.

    "I know what you're going to say," our host said cheerily as he invited us into his ornately decorated brownstone.  "You're going to say, 'You don't look like Rush!'  Well, it is my day off, but on Monday when I go into the studio and put on the padded suit, the make up, and the wig you will be amazed.  I really am Rush Limbaugh."

    Looking at the slender, energetic, forty-something year old man dressed casually in brocade slippers and a silk kimono, we had a hard time believing it really was Rush.  After making us comfortable on a plush divan and serving us chamomile tea and scones, our host explained.

    "Come on!  When you interviewed Toby Maguire, did he show up in a Spiderman suit and start swinging from the ceiling?  Rush Limbaugh is a character I play like Captain Kangaroo or Pee Wee Herman or Donald Rumsfeld.  I still remember when Dark/King Features Syndicate approached me all those years ago about playing this new off-the-wall character for a Right Wing radio show.  I thought they were simply bonkers.  My background had been in improvisational theater and performance art.  In fact when they signed me up, I was still off-off-off-Broadway in "Throbbing Embolus:  ASSAULT!" an interactive audience-immersive show.  I was just plain Harvey Limbly back then, but working with the producers we created this incredible character, this blustery, small-minded, passionate, wrong-headed, manipulative master of Right Wing rhetoric.  Well, it was the kind of role that an actor only comes across once in a lifetime if he is lucky."

    When questioned about his own personal beliefs on issues like gun control, equal rights for women, or new, higher taxes for the poor, our host giggled merrily and waved us off.

    "Oh, no you don't!  No shop talk!  'The Rush Limbaugh Show' is completely scripted by our staff.  I just read the lines and interpret and perform the stories.  It has nothing to do with my personal beliefs.  Honestly, the show is like a little opera that we do everyday with all the calls carefully scripted and rehearsed to produce the maximum transgressive effect.  If you want to hear someone blame Bill Clinton for the war in Iraq or hear me demand a return to a plantation based economy tune in Monday.  However, when I am offstage and you want my personal opinion on a hot topic, just ask me about my new recipe for guava and lime margaritas or my new boxed set of the complete recordings of Edith Piaf.  Then you won't be able to shut me up!"

    After tea, it was time for our day out with Rush and his personal assistant Sasha had promised me we were in for a surprise.  After changing into a very flattering black mock turtle neck cashmere sweater and a pair of Bill Blass slacks, Rush lead us out into a delightful fall day on a trek through Greenwich Village.  Spending the day with Rush Limbaugh, we anticipated hurrying off to picket an Affirmative Action rally or heading down to Barnes and Noble for a book signing of Rush's new bestseller My Battle.  Much to our pleasant surprise, Limbaugh turned a corner quickly, stopped in front of a very chic establishment, and threw open his arms and yelled "Spa Day!"  As we stepped into the posh, luxurious day spa Bains Du Phillipe, it was clear that Limbaugh is a well-loved regular here as stylists and assistants fawned over him.  Within minutes, we were seated side by side in hydrophonic massage chairs as the proprietor Phillipe himself applied a thick, rich exotic smelling lavender glace de visage paste onto our faces with an elegant little silver trowel.

    "I just know I am in heaven when Phillipe gives me one of his famous kiwi and lavender protein facials," Limbaugh sighed contentedly.  As the masked hardened and revitalized our complexions, Limbaugh relaxed and shared some of his philosophy with us.

    "When I got my start in theater, I was merely an aggressive dilettante.  I wanted to use my talent to shock and irritate society.  I did free form performance pieces, street fights, and I even was lead dancer in the Grand Guignol Ballet of Nice for a season.  Then I saw the light.  I spent a year in Berlin studying with the Master - Otto Cruzeveldt-Jacob - and performing in his masterpiece "Dirty Monkeys" changed my life.  In the piece, Otto and two of his associates would walk onstage dressed very formally in coats and ties. They would then lock themselves into separate elevated cages.  As deafening tribal drumming thundered, they would scream and climb on the bars of their cages flinging fistfuls of feces into the audience.  We performed that show for three years in a row to sold out houses, and every night the reaction was always the same:  the crowd, pelted with filth, would respond by throwing it at other members of the audience and screaming wildly as they imitated their 'monkey masters.'  It was an incredibly cathartic two hours for both the crowd and the artistes.

    "Of course, this is what I still do to this day as 'Rush Limbaugh.'  Performance art, transgressive audience confrontation, and the theater of humiliation and hate.  It's all there in the show.  Everyday in effect I get to go on the radio, assume my persona, and hurl vile monkey filth onto my audience."

    After our facials are pealed away, our next stop is at the manicurist's salon.  Between mescal-carnuba cuticle massages and imported British bee wax nail resurfacing, Limbaugh explained his show's concept.

    "Each year we try to keep the show fresh, innovative, and grotesque.  The story arc of me losing my hearing and being literally quite deaf to the concerns and suffering of others was actually based on a script by Tom Stoppard.  The more recent hi-jinks on ESPN were the result of a collaboration between two great creative minds:  Iggy Pop and David Lynch.  Their work was quite moving with a dark scenario as riddled with casual moral damnation and shame as any we have done yet."

    As our nails dried and our day together drew to an end, we sipped demitasses of grappa on the lovely, shaded back porch of Bains Du Phillipe.  I asked Rush if he might  give us a hint as to what we could look forward to in the weeks ahead.  Of course, he warned us that the details were a closely kept secret, but with a sly wink he hinted that the widely anticipated descent into drugs and madness could come any week now.

    In a day full of surprises, I realized that this was the real Rush Limbaugh after all:  a master entertainer, a bon vivant raconteur  and most of all a bold, shocking performance artist willing to confront the American public with a hideous, twisted vision of its own self-hatred disguised as existential theater.  Before I left, I asked him to do me a favor and do a little of the "Classic Rush" as he calls it, and he cheerfully obliged with some impromptu riffing.

    "Feed me a line and I'll hit you right back," he said in his normal, lilting voice.

    "The War in Iraq?"

    "Not big enough," he crowed, his voice now booming with that familiar smug bluster known all over America.

    "Feminists?" I barked.

    "Femi-Nazis?  Make room for them over there in Iraq.  They need somebody to help clear out those minefields."

    "Governor Scharzenegger?"

    "Too Liberal!  I voted for Jean Claude Van Damme."

    "Democrat law makers?"

    "Love 'em!  Especially when they're served pan fried over a bed of shoestring potatoes."

    "African-Americans?"

    "Well, somebody has got to pan fry the Democrats!"

    "You're an asshole!"

    "Ditto!"