SO, CALL ME A WIMP - I FEEL SORRY FOR RUSH

After all of these years, I finally have come up with the definition
of a liberal wimp. It is someone who feels sorry for Rush Limbaugh.

Here is a man who has kept 20 million dittoheads on a closed loop of
right-wing rhetoric for three hours a day, five days a week, for 15
years. Here is a man for whom the word "bombastic" was invented.

Imagine what he would say about some "feminazi" caught popping 30
illegal pills a day. Imagine how forgiving he would be to an
"environmental wacko" scoring OxyContin while tree-hugging.

This is a man who created so many petards over the years that it is
hard to know which one to hoist him on. How about the title of his
book: See, I Told You So. Or how about one of his many tirades against
druggies: "The answer is to go out and find the ones who are getting
away with it, convict them and send them up the river, too." It is Mr.
Limbaugh, after all, who complained, "We are becoming too tolerant,
folks."

But every time I rev up a rant, I imagine the demi-god of dittoheads
skulking around a Denny's parking lot to get his fix. I imagine the
man waiting for his housekeeper-drug dealer to drop a dime. I imagine
a man so hooked that he may have sacrificed his hearing to his little
blues.

And I, gulp, feel sorry for him.

This is the curse of liberal wimpathy. Conservatives talk of right and
wrong. Liberals talk of strengths and weaknesses. The right thinks of
drug abuse in particular as a moral failing; the left thinks of it as
a medical illness. When one of ours goes bad, they jump on him like a
churchyard dog. When one of theirs goes bad, we tend to ... understand.

With a few exceptions, conservatives have shown some fancy footwork in
defending Mr. Limbaugh. Former Bush speechwriter David Frum said, "I
don't think any less of him for having ordinary frailties." Gary
Bauer, president of American Values, made a moral distinction between
getting addicted in order to get high and getting addicted to kill
pain. Rich Lowry, editor of The National Review, defended him to Don
Imus because Mr. Limbaugh never claimed to be a victim. And a
dittohead caller on his show said, "We all make mistakes."

Meanwhile, opponents, like this wimpette, who generally would like to
put a sock in his mouth, are restrained to the point of gentility.
Even Al Franken, who wrote Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot, said, "I
don't wish [drug addiction] on anyone." Joe Conason, author of Big
Lies, said, "It is hard not to feel sorry for anyone whose suffering
causes him to hustle narcotics." And Howie Kurtz, the media voice of a
favorite Limbaugh target, The Washington Post, wrote, "I suspect most
people, even those who can't stand the guy, will see a man struggling
with his personal demons and be careful about condemning him for his
weakness."

Does being a member of the righteous right mean never having to say
you are sorry? The closest Mr. Limbaugh came to an apology is saying
"Well, I am no role model" for going into rehab. But his fans give him
a prayerful pass.

His opponents, however, are members of a left that always has been
touchy (and feely) about value judgments. The worst charge that a
liberal launches at the personal misbehavior of a Bill Bennett or Rush
Limbaugh is one of "hypocrisy!" Gasp. The last time I looked,
hypocrisy wasn't even on the waiting list for additions to the Ten
Commandments.

Mr. Limbaugh once described himself as the "epitome of virtue, a man
you could totally trust with your wife, your daughter and even your
son in a Motel 6 overnight." We have yet to see whether the police
agree. But in the court of public opinion, the talk master and voice
of the angry white man, who once had his bags carried into the White
House by George Bush the First, is being treated with the sort of
tolerance and forgiveness that he disparages.

So, call me a wimp. When bad things happen to bad people, I have
trouble going for the jugular. Wimpathy by another name is plain ol'
empathy. And willy-nilly, Mr. Limbaugh gets a slice of mine.

In his statement, Mr. Limbaugh asked us to pray for him. Well, I will
pass. But I will hope that while he is in rehab, he learns to walk a
corridor in somebody else's shoes.