Posted on 01/15/2004 9:46:02 PM PST by writer33
Then it was 1992. I had survived three years in the U.S. Army, Panama, Desert Storm, and many other nefarious deployments. There I was, working a minimum wage job for Longhorn Security Inc., at the State Department of Transportation. Right from one uniform to the next, albeit a completely different uniform, but a uniform. A blue-collared, short-sleeved shirt with dark blue Huffy work pants.
I worked the swing shift from four to eleven p.m.; circulating between three buildings to ensure no one broke in to steal valuable engineering documents. It was a ridiculous, menial job. I was ashamed. I was mad at everyone. Mad at the Army. Mad at the Government-especially the Republicans for putting me in this lowly state. And mad at the world. I was liberal. A well-disciplined liberal. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Evil Republicans, my mind screamed. They put me here! But there I was another evening shift half over. Sitting at the front desk with my feet propped up, and waiting for the last state employee to leave the building. Why? Because I was in the best place any man could be, right between a Sonic and a Seven Eleven. I was in heaven, foot long chilidog heaven, combine it with the Big Gulp, and bliss followed.
I had acquired a taste for foot long chilidogs. Every evening around seven-when all was quiet, not one state employee working late-I would stroll over to the Sonic and pick up my plump, luscious, foot long chili dog. It was covered in chili, onions, and smothered with melted Velveeta cheese. I can still smell it, sitting in that paper container, while I poked at it with the plastic fork, anxiously waiting to devour the contents as it cooled.
Hungry or not, I had a foot long chilidog. Afterwards, I would always start a round patrolling the buildings. Often times, that included wondering upstairs and viewing the television-though there was no cable, I enjoyed it-even if I had to sneak it in when I could. It made this tedious job better.
One night, I performed my rounds going up to the third floor. The reception up there was outstanding. Right off the elevator, there was a conference room with a long, mahogany-finished table, and fifteen Captain’s leather chairs. At the end of the table was the best television in the entire State Department of Transportation. It picked up a picture anytime. Come snow, rain, sleet, or hail, it was great television viewing.
Feverishly, I turned from one station to the next, avoiding news channels as if they suddenly had developed leprosy. All of a sudden, there he was, sitting in a chair with a big screen behind him. The “loveable little fuzzball”, he so aptly named himself. Rush Limbaugh in the flesh. He began the show recounting the number of days America had been held hostage. He continued by pointing out liberal policies and how wrong they were, executing the liberal philosophies with his own brand of justice. There was something about it. I couldn’t quite explain it.
I was glued to the television, like a man receiving life-saving instructions, fascinated and confused all at once. This man had repudiated everything I had ever come to believe. It was astounding. And I walked from the room with a look of disbelief on my face when the show was over.
Later, I went home, disoriented. “Dad,” I said, looking at my father, who was standing at the refrigerator pouring a coke. The man could’ve lived on Coca-Cola. He and my mother drank more Cokes per capita than anyone else in the State of Texas.
He looked up at me, seeing the concern on my face. “Yes, sir,” he gently replied.
“You know a man named Rush Limbaugh,” I squeaked out. “I listened to him tonight.”
My father smiled as he closed the refrigerator, picked up his glass, and took a sip. “Yep. He’s a big, fat liar. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“Oh,” I replied, walking away to the bedroom, still uncertain of the things Rush had said and the political platform he stood on.
The next couple of weeks I tuned in to the Rush Limbaugh Television Show. Even though I had opposing views, there was something about him that I couldn’t let go. Something drew me in. Maybe it was karma. Maybe it was his showmanship. Nevertheless, it continued.
Two weeks went by. Three weeks followed. Before long, I started to believe. It didn’t happen fast, but Rush instilled conservative values in me. It was like seeing the light for the very first time. Like a man that had come out of a near death experience and was rejuvenated about his life. That’s what Rush had done for me. He had opened my eyes to the truth.
Yes. The truth, it was what I had tuned in day after day, week after week, and month after month for. RUSH LIMBAUGH HAD INSTILLED THE TRUTH. Something no liberal had ever done for me. My father had taught me that lying was wrong. But Rush had given me a far greater gift. Looking at the cold, ugly truth, no matter what the consequences were. Everything else simply fell into place.
Pro Life soon followed by Tax Cuts-not just for the rich but for all. It made economic sense. Rush searched and reported the truth on a daily basis. So many of the other issues simply fell into place like dominoes on a preset platform. That was what I had longed to tune him in for. It was something I hadn’t seen before. A man like you or I, giving us the truth in no uncertain terms, and topping it off with magnetic personality. To this day, I long for that television show to return. And Yes, I’m a dittohead. I listen to Rush Limbaugh on a daily basis. Every chance I get. You bet. No one better out there-though Sean Hannity is a close second. I listen to him too for three hours a day. Just as he asks. As I write this book, I listen to him. You know what? I love both of them. Like they were family. Why? Because they are family.
What so many people fail to realize about Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity is that they report the truth? Better than that, they back it up with sound proof. No liberal anywhere can argue with them without suffering from a massive bout of frustration. You can hear the eyeballs pop out and veins exposed when in conversation with liberals. It’s amusing to hear it when it happens.
I have Rush Limbaugh to personally thank. He was there when I needed him the most, and is there now, even when I need him the most. Rush Limbaugh is a true soldier, fighting liberalism. A much harder task than what I endured over my first three years in the U.S. Army, a never-ending battle of truth. He passed that on to me, and for that, I’m thankful. I can never give him enough “mega-diddos.”
It was this truth that I took with me as I motivated myself to lose thirty pounds, entering back into the U.S. Army. Yes. I had missed the camaraderie, the discipline, and the pressure I was under. Nothing could match it. Soon, I found myself admitting to being a conservative. It wasn’t easy. It took years of confidence building, after liberalism had destroyed every fiber in my body. It was a long, slow recovery.
Between 1996-1999, I listened to Rush, as Clinton slowly destroyed the morale of the U.S. Army. I could see it in their faces, as if their pride had been stripped from them. I heard the conversations by soldiers that didn’t appreciate our Commander-in-Chief. And the sideshows continued.
“I wouldn’t salute him,” soldiers would snip about President Clinton. “I have no respect for the man.”
“You wouldn’t have any choice,” I replied.
“Just watch me,” they would say.
They knew what I knew deep down. That he was demoralizing a country. But more importantly, he was demoralizing the protectors of that country, America. American soldiers felt betrayed and under appreciated. Soon, Congress was cutting funding. It didn’t take long before the whole morale of the military dropped. I was no longer proud to be called a soldier, no longer enthusiastic about being in the Army. So when my time came up, I exited gladly, searching for something else, something better.
Something like Rush Limbaugh. He was there. Every step of the way. That lone beacon of opposition kept the light shining for me in the face of darkness. Energizing millions of listeners and I, till the Presidential Election of 2000. He was my litmus test, defining what it meant to be conservative. His values became mine, and to millions of American soldiers listening to him.
Rush Limbaugh had become a way of life, determining what it meant to be conservative. For me it meant America, the truth, and the U.S. Constitution. Those three principles I’ve held closely over the years. America is the greatest country in the world. I love every bit of it. Being conservative means loving America and everything about it. The people, the food, the U.S. Military, and capitalism. It’s all derived from this great country. I wouldn’t change a thing. There’s a song, “I Love L.A.” by Randy Newman. But I love America and everything about it. Everything makes America beautiful. Our founders made sure of that.
Our Founding Fathers sought the truth. They sought it in a document called the U.S. Constitution. It was their belief that this country could be the greatest, most self-reliant country on the face of the earth. And we are. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have written the Constitution the way they did. Being a former soldier, I can’t help but agree. It was my job to uphold those values written in that document. I did it proudly for so many years. And so did many, that have gone before me in defense of liberty.
Rush is a giant who has accomplished and done much. He is deserving of our love, respect and friendship.
May the love of Jesus be upon you Rusty.
Rush's impact on the media and politics in America is incredible.
Mmm.. Coney!
Thanks to Bill Clinton, there are hundreds of the best trained pilots in the world working for airlines and cargo companies rather than risk their lives flying military aircraft, after your taxes paid more than 5 million dollars for each of them.
Clinton's military cutbacks forced the services to reduce the number of available training hours, forcing students to rely more on simulators. Add his brand of political correctness that cost a female pilot her life, and another one unneeded embarassment, and you have the Clinton military legacy.
I found Rush Limbaugh in the middle of the Arabian Sea thanks to the Armed Forces Network. Been a steady listener for more than 12 years.
Speaking of echoing words, the particular persnickety picky proofreading part of me has to draw attention to your spelling of dittos and to an ill-placed question mark in one sentence. (I'm sure you'll find and fix it and in gratitude send me an autographed copy of your book once it is published.) 
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