Conventional etiquette dictates that we do not speak ill of the dead. But Rush Limbaugh isn’t just any dead guy.
He’s a dead guy who made himself a multimillionaire many times over by targeting immigrants, women who use birth control, the preteen daughters of politicians, the Obamas, rape survivors, environmentalists, gay people, Asians, Latinos, Black people, and feminists. He popularized the term “feminazi,” a word that stupid assholes fling at women who won’t fuck them to this very day. He said that white people can’t be blamed for slavery, as they have done more than anybody else to end slavery. He mocked the intelligence of Black athletes and villainized the ones who protested against police brutality.
Twenty-five years ago, the great Molly Ivins noticed Limbaugh’s schtick of targeting “dead people, little girls, and the homeless,” an act that only accelerated as he approached the end of his life and his own death approached. He spoke ill of people who died of AIDS, of people who died by suicide, of people who were dying of Parkinson’s disease, and unarmed Black children who were murdered under racist pretenses.