Why I Love Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh is out of the hospital now, and by his own account on his way back to work. But his recent health scare, and the ensuing vitriol from his detractors on the world wide web, got me thinking that many non-fans don't truly "get" the Rush phenomenon. What I mean is, they don't really understand why he's so popular. Nor do they appreciate the depth of his appeal – and why many of his fans don't just like his show, but would literally take a bullet for him.

Those who only know what they hear from cable news sound bites might assume his show is filled with nothing but angry conservative rhetoric. Yet the proof that his message isn't marginal is that his is the most popular radio show in America; he has been nationally syndicated for more than twenty years, and is on the air fifteen hours a week.

Unlike in Limbaugh's early days, today's conservatives can get political news and opinions from a wide variety of sources, yet they continue listening to Limbaugh day after day. Why? To be sure, he's talented, but he's also...lovable.

Listen to Limbaugh, and you'll quickly learn that he doesn't just talk about politics. Listen to him consistently, and you'll learn of his love for the Pittsburgh Steelers, his desire to stay on the cutting edge of music, entertainment, and technology, and his past struggle to succeed. Limbaugh also frequently gives "aspirational" advice to listeners, encouraging them to associate with positive people, to follow their dreams, and to take personal responsibility.

Of course, to some, the notion that Limbaugh is lovable might be laughable. But then, I would say the same thing – though for entirely different reasons – about shock jock Howard Stern. If you've watched the movie about his life, "Private Parts," you know that underneath the vulgar exterior, there is something sweet about Stern. Regular listeners have a loyalty and affinity for the man that the casual observer would find odd, to say the least.

There's also something special about Limbaugh and Stern's shared medium; though Limbaugh dabbled in television, his greatest success has obviously come on the radio, and I think that explains a lot about the extent of his emotional appeal.

This past autumn, I mentioned on Twitter that I had turned off my television and was instead listening to the World Series on the radio. I noted that listening to broadcasters Jon Miller and Joe Morgan was far more enjoyable than watching the game on TV; there was something quaint and comforting about it, like lighting a fire in the fireplace and reading a book.

The online world can often be callous and childish, yet something amazing happened; a conversation occurred in which dozens of my Twitter followers began telling stories, via Twitter, about their love of listening to sports on the radio. Whether their story revolved around radio legends Harry Caray or Bob Uecker or Harry Kalas, the message was the same; grown men were getting choked up reminiscing about listening to baseball on the radio.

One of the most touching stories came from a conservative on Twitter named Tony Lee (on Twitter, he's @TheTonyLee). We began emailing, and here's his story:

My Dad always said to think of Vin as a surrogate baseball grandfather. He was a lot more. I can probably say that because he helped my Dad learn English quicker, my Dad started to succeed, and my Mom saw enough in him that she would agree to take the leap of faith with him and give up her life in Korea to come here to marry him.''

I related to this story because I remember listening to Orioles games along with my dad in the 1980s (yes, they actually were good back then). During a long, 162-game season, day-in and day-out, there one was constant: the Orioles would be on. Even if you had nothing in your life to look forward to, you at least knew that – like a "serial" or a soap opera – the team's record would be on the line that night. To this day, hearing Jon Miller's voice – he was the "voice of the Orioles, then" – can transport me back in time.

In the late 1980s, my dad also introduced me to Rush Limbaugh's new nationally syndicated radio show. Since the arrival of television, AM radio had gotten pretty boring. But once the Reagan Administration withdrew the "Fairness Doctrine," which had forced stations to provide equal time for opposing viewpoints, shows like Limbaugh's began to flourish.

As a young libertarian/conservative attending public schools and then a liberal arts college during the Clinton years, being conservative was about the most alternative/anti-authoritarian stance a rebel without a cause could take, and I reveled in it.

Rush, who was in his thirties at the time, provided a perfect outlet for a young libertarian/conservatives – like me -- who believed the liberal dogma being taught to us by our teachers was mere utopian propaganda. Unlike the stodgy country club Republican types we also rebelled against, Limbaugh used humor and satire to poke fun at the liberals in a new and fresh way. I would often spend three or four hours listening to my liberal professors in the morning, and then, occasionally switching back and forth from Zeppelin, Gin Blossoms, or Sublime, tune in to Limbaugh for several hours in the afternoon. It was a great way to balance out my college experience, and it's fair to say he changed my life.

While I do believe his anti-intellectual diatribes reinforce the notion that being smart isn't "cool," most of his advice is straight out of the Dale Carnegie "How to Win Friends and Influence People," school of thought. And for me, Rush remains an important mentor.

As news broke of Rush's chest pains, and some on the internet were even saying he had died, this thought occurred to me: Because he comes into so many homes every day for three hours, the emotional impact of losing Limbaugh would be intense. Thankfully, the chest pains were not a heart attack, and his talent, as he often says on the radio, is still "on loan from God." In the decades since I first started listening to Limbaugh, I've married, lost my father, and become a conservative commentator myself. But there is one constant: Rush is still on at noon.