Rush Limbaugh is a fat, disgusting drug addict. He is a hypocrite, an unfortunate scion of pent up rage, unrequited hatred, and inordinate hubris. He is an unscrupulous parasite, one for whom habitual and conscious lying is as natural as breathing or shitting. His soul exists as an empty, vacuous and barren desert. His idea of recreation is to visit an island notorious for barely-teen prostitutes and underage sex slaves, armed to the teeth with erectile dysfunction medication. His heart, if it at all exists, will undoubtedly one day burst from the collective pressures of the following: a miscalculated, sick and uncontrollable anger; a lifestyle of revolting excess; a diet of illicitly gained and powerful prescription drugs; an overwhelming karmic correction. He is a wheezing, decrepit, decaying piece of rotting maggot filth.

That is all.