Hey, Rush. Shut your fucking mouth about Elizabeth Edwards for just five minutes. There's something I want to tell you.
You don't get to sit your fat ass down in your radio studio and talk about how a woman -- any woman -- ought to react or behave when she has breast cancer. I know, I know, you think the weight of the world has been on your shoulders these last few years, what with your drug addiction and your non-functioning penis.
But you don't know shit about breast cancer, but I do. I got to watch my sister die from it.
You probably congratulated yourself on your keen political insight when you said this:
Now, let me say something else that might be accused of cynicism: What is their religion? I don't doubt they're religious people, but, we talked about this. Political people are different than you and I. And, you know, most people when told a family member's been diagnosed with the kind of cancer Elizabeth Edwards has, they turn to God. The Edwards turned to the campaign.
First off, it's "you and me" and not, "you and I," dumbass.
Update: The commenters whose knowledge of grammar rules is superior to mine point out that on this score I was wrong. But, Rush, you're still a dumbass. Update 2: Again judging from the comments, the me/I issue isn't so clear cut. There's a lesson for you here, Rush: We can disagree without hating each other, resorting to name calling and acting like pompous know-it-alls.
More important, though, how do you know what "most people" do "when told a family member's been diagnosed" with cancer? Some nice commenters in this diary reminded the world that Newt Gingrich turned not to God, but to a divorce lawyer when his wife (the first one) had breast cancer so he could reneg on that whole "in sickness and in health" part of his vows. Have you castigated Newt yet, Rush? Or was that Clinton's or the feminazis' fault?
And I for damn sure didn't turn to God when my sister was diagnosed. Neither did my dad, who listens to your bullshit, or my mom. We were too fucking mad at God, and too interested in healing, to get all spiritual. Maybe you comfort yourself that it's all part of God's plan for you to need Viagra. But your woes aren't terminal, are they?
And while I wasn't turning to God, I admit I did turn to something else, something that would ease my pain. Though my drug of choice was alcohol, you can see you're wrong when you think you and I have nothing in common. Oh, except I wasn't an addict and didn't pretend I had a back problem.
But back to John and Elizabeth Edwards. You went on to say:
Their religion is politics and the quest for the White House. And that's -- it's not just with them, I mean, it's part and parcel of political people -- undergo all this stuff, the media anal all over their private life being made public even by the candidates themselves -- it's all part of the drill.
And as Keith Olberman quoted you:
What the Edwards campaign is going to do here is see what the reaction is within the ranks of Democrat [sic] voters -- as far as this announcement is concerned -- and then go on from there. If there is not a big jump, if this doesn't cause a breakout, if this doesn't cause a big uptick, then, at some point, Senator Edwards will probably have to suspend the campaign.
This is where you separate yourself from what those of us in the reality based community call humanity.
It's all about politics, right? Maybe it'll be great strategy to have a camera follow Mrs. Edwards around should she double over in unbearable pain, like my sister did. If she take something for it, maybe that can be the focus of a clever Op-Ed about drug use and whether John Edwards is serious about addiction among America's poor. And the field of candidates will just evaporate if, like my sister, Elizabeth's chest opens up where she had surgery, with the cancer eating its way through the outer layer of her skin. Sheesh, what a political coup that would be!
And no doubt, should she die, all the pain on John Edwards' face will be a mere charade, created for the cameras to woo that all important "independent voter."
Rush, I'll never get people like you. You don't understand suffering. You don't understand kindness. You don't understand love and support, whether between two people or among a community. You seem to understand nothing but your ego and your own ignorant sense of self importance.
But for as much as I don't get about you or your kind, there's one thing I'm pretty sure of: When you try to check in at the pearly gates, it'll be my sister who's going to kick your fat ass straight to hell.