Limbaugh Insists Media Playing Up 'White Drug Addict' Angle

harming conservative hard-ass Rush Limbaugh is angry with the American media's harping on his admission of painkiller abuse this week, claiming the focus on his addiction stems from the media's attempt to promote a white Republican drug addict.

Limbaugh answered accusations from reporters with his trademark, "You know how liberals are…" before launching into his defense. Addressing reporters by telephone from a minimum-security rehab facility, the talk show host and political pundit, irrelevantly 52, claimed the story was exaggerated.

"You know how liberals are. They run the media, of course, we all know this, and there's nothing they love more than bringing down white people. They were behind such evil as the Clinton presidency, the success of Donovan McNabb, and my leaving ESPN. Though, frankly, those SportsCenter guys were starting to get on my nerves," announced Rush, following quickly with the proclamation he had lost 5 pounds during the statement alone.

The revelation of illegal substance abuse, or let's say misappropriation of not-quite-legal pep pills, come at a bad time for Limbaugh, who quit sports network ESPN after statements he made about the unearned success of quarterback Donovan McNabb sparked controversy. The media, the tubby conservative claimed, engineered his exit by blowing his words out of proportion, stupid as they might be, and they were trying to further humiliate him by taking his usage of thousands of Oxycontin and Lorcet pills over the years out of context.

"You know how liberals are," said the husky speed addict.

"Common sense allows us to put things into perspective. These are prescription pills, they're just not prescribed to me. It's not like I'm doing blow or shooting heroin into my eyeballs. I'm not some ghetto crackhead. I'm a popular Republican talk show host, and the media loves to see conservative white guys get the book thrown at them for trivial infractions. If I was not famous and just a regular white guy, like a federal judge or CEO of a major multinational, I would just have this reduced to a fine and no one would care. But because I'm outspoken and everyone knows me and I'm always right, the liberal media wants to stick it to me, just to erase stereotypes."

Limbaugh, a former fat man now in a modestly chunky man's body, did not find much support with former colleagues at ESPN following the leak of the investigation.

"We are all shocked, it's as best as we can put it," said ESPN spokesperson Robert Fulgham. "We hired Rush three weeks ago. Knowing his history of working in talk radio and making light of liberals, democrats, feminists,
radicals, and basically all non-white people, we thought him to be a terrific sports analyst and commentator who would make broadcasts more lively. The last thing any of us at ESPN ever expected was this kind of insensitivity. When it comes to a quarterback in the year 2003, color is simply not an issue."

Fulgham was politely reminded the issue at hand was actually concerning Limbaugh's use of prescription pills before continuing.

"Oh, yeah," said Fulgham. "Everybody knew he was a big fat pill popper. Did you think he was exercising to kick that ass into shape? C'mon. He would chew handfuls of hydrocone in between five or six Baby Ruths. He had intravenous
coffee intake. It's not really a secret if you work with the guy. You don't want to get me started on those SportsCenter guys and what they do around the place."

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"No one within shouting distance of the Hartwig home will ever forget the year dad got in trouble with the Olympic Committee for claiming that he invented tennis. It turned out that the game had been around for hundreds of years and bore only a passing resemblance to the game dad had invented at home with a couple of picture frames and a tomato. We went through the whole thing all over again a few years later with table tennis, but the Chinese had dad beat on that one, too. He tried to argue that they'd stolen the tomato part from him, but in the end dad was never able to prove that a tomato had ever been used in a regulation tournament.

The whole tennis debacle soured dad on inventing sports for several years, until Uncle Otto sold him the rights to his idea for a no-holds-barred fighting tournament. Dad worked out the kinks using my brother Goose and I as human guinea pigs, as per our usual role in the family. This lasted until the school counselor suggested to my dad that the ongoing 'Fight for Your Supper' tournament might be affecting Goose's scholastic performance. Few believed that Goose's grades could have possibly sunk below their customary level, so it was widely assumed that Goose had been caught stealing food from the cafeteria. This made sense, since he had gone 0 –for-17 so far in the tournament, even losing to Stephanie on several occasions.

Some in the neighborhood blamed me, and suggested that I could have let him win every once in a while. But until Goose figured out how to cut eyeholes into his mask, there wasn't much I could do to keep him from coldcocking himself on the banister and missing dinner every night.

Eventually dad sold the idea to another entrepreneur who had more resilient kids, and he reluctantly moved on to other pursuits. It was probably for the best, though, since Mom was getting tired of sanding teeth marks out of the banister every year."

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I don't tell this to many people, unless they ask, but it's long been my dream to be part of some kind of rock-band family, like the Partridges. Or Fleetwood Mac. I mean, how much ass would that kick? Most kids are sitting at home, eating porkchops or some bullshit in front of the TV while mom and dad barely tolerate each other and daydream divorce scenarios in their heads, The Love Boat reflecting off their glassy eyes. But you, the rock-family kid? No way, you're on tour and television and crap. Your family's got groupies and your dad's doing monster lines of coke all the time. Damn.

Before you go and get me all wrong, and think Omar Bricks has gone full-blown gay on y'all, remember that I'm not talking about Hanson or anything here. I'm not talking about clones or Siamese twins or whatever the hell they are. I fully support their right to just go somewhere and die, like everybody does. I'm talking about a real full-on family. Only not all shitty like the Partridges, I'm thinking more a family that could kick some ass. Like if Glen Danzig was your dad and Freddie Mercury was your mom. That kind of family.

I called up a record executive I know from jury duty to run this idea by him, see if it climbed naked up the flagpole and dropped trou, as the saying goes. He said he didn't know I had kids. Which should have been obvious, as anyone who knows me can tell I don't want to die all the time. I told him not to worry about the family part of it, I was sure I could scare up some orphans or some shit, or even some faux-parents if the demographic was to skew that way. I don't think the Mamas and the Papas have been up to anything lately, they're so far behind the music they can see up its ass like a cat. Still, even at that, he wasn't sure if the idea had wings. We argued back and forth for a few minutes about whether Wings rocked or not, then I think my phone card ran out because I don't remember saying goodbye.

The one thing he said that did stick with me though was that if the idea were going to work, it would have to have some spin on it. Like if it was an Asian family. People can't get enough of Asian shit these days; it's like having a cartoon without having to pay some greedy art school snobs to draw it for you. Plus they're always saying hilarious shit like "I rove you rong time!" like Scooby Doo and people eat it up.

I figured this was probably some pretty solid advice, since Dave knew his shit when we were on jury duty, like you're not supposed to answer the questions the lawyers ask out loud. It's different from being in an infomercial audience that way, but they don't explain all that when you're sitting down in the bleachers and then they act like you're the only asshole who didn't read the jury duty book or whatever. You can get those guys back though, you just tell 'em L.A. Law sucked and the look on their faces is priceless.

So I decided to go the Asian route with my Rock Family. It all has to start with me, of course, so I had to change my name to something believably Asian. My stage name, anyway. And even more than that, it would have to be Asian as shit to overcome the fact that I look whiter than Eminem crossed with the bailiff from Night Court. So people would see me on TV and be like "Naw!" but then my Asian name would flash up on the screen and they'd feel like stupid asses for doubting and hope nobody heard them.

I ran through a few different options, most of which turned out to be copyrighted by dirty joke books, but before long I settled on the winner: Woon Fat Leung. Shit yeah. I liked how it was undeniably Asian, yet at the same time implied I probably knew some serious karate or else had a gun that never ran out of bullets. Plus it sounded cool. That's a lot of work for one name to do, so it definitely beats a normal slack-ass name like Omar Bricks, which is badass and all, but by itself only implies that I don't have tits.

So now the hard work is done, all that remains is finding some adorable little Asian kids who can play the drums, guitar, bass, keyboards and sing… but I've got the tambourine nailed down. If one of those little kids turns out to be a tambourine virtuoso he's going to have to be my understudy or else ready himself for one serious "Devil Went Down to Georgia"-style tambourine battle, since I'll likely be twice his size and I play dirty.

If you happen to know any interested Asian kids, or come to think of it, a Bricks-aged Asian chick who could pass for the mom and doesn't play the tambourine, send them around the commune offices. Only tell them to stay away from Ramrod Hurley's office, I think that guy's having some kind of Vietnam flashback in there and all he needs are some little people in pointy hats coming around to totally fuck his mind for good.

Bricks out.

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