Democrats have been disgracefully uncharitable to Rush Limbaugh. He has apologized for calling a perfectly decent woman a slut and a prostitute; he deserves generosity in return. The man's fickle sponsors have been departing all weekend, like ships from a sinking rat, so I propose that Democrats demonstrate bipartisan moral support, by sponsoring Mr. Limbaugh's next sexual adventure in the developing world.

I envision a Kickstarter project to finance a gift for Mr. Limbaugh: An all-expenses-paid tour to the Dominican Republic, with unlimited -- and fully prescribed -- Viagra.

This is undiluted altruism, but with a sly nod towards political strategy: How better to win Rush Limbaugh over to the liberal cause than to subsidize his medication?

Why yes, I do realize that I'm suggesting that Democrats should pay for Mr. Limbaugh to have sex. It's not an argument that you hear often, true. No one sane would wish for Mr. Limbaugh to procreate, of course -- and it is with great remorse that I cause that image to flicker even briefly in your fragile mortal brain -- but this gesture is the right thing to do. It is intellectually consistent, and it demonstrates that we too can rise above pettiness.

Full disclosure: these donations will be go partially towards contraception. A politically fraught matter. A very small part, I have to stress: Contraception is chickenfeed, whereas Viagra -- if obtained legally and Made in America by a person like Pfizer -- is a serious expense. Lawyers will be paid to draw up a contract, requiring Mr. Limbaugh to use that contraception whenever availing himself of our gift. (Not cheap, but consider the alternative.)

Great care will be taken to insure that the drug is lawfully provided. Mr. Limbaugh must never again go through the serial embarrassments of 2006, that annus horribilis, when he was detained by officials at Palm Beach Airport with Viagra that had not been properly prescribed.

It was a terrible thing that Mr. Limbaugh, whose very serious drug problems were taking up much of his time and credibility, had to go through the frivolous legal exercise of accounting for a bottle of rogue Viagra that happened to be in his luggage when he returned from a vacation in the Dominican Republic.

A man like Mr. Limbaugh ought to be able to have fun in a fun place, and the next time he goes to the Dominican Republic, the bill's on us. This is an inexpensive location, of course, but -- as with Thailand -- poverty has its perks, and I'm sure Mr. Limbaugh won't begrudge us the frugality of our gift.

Consider the shame and obloquy Mr. Limbaugh had to endure after his last Caribbean romp: believe it or not, an impertinent caller to his solemn radio show accused him -- without subtlety -- of sex tourism. I know where I stand, regarding this. I stand with Rush:

"What you describe about me isn't true," he said. "You are repeating Internet rumors based in hatred and misinformation." He told the caller that he was a "glittering jewel of colossal ignorance" and that he was trying to excuse "depravity" and get his "jolling" by believing "B.S." He also told the man that it was people like him who were "responsible for the precarious position this great nation finds itself in."

Hatred. Misinformation. The precarious position in which this great nation finds itself. That's a toxic equation, my friend.

It wasn't simply the shame: It was the legal jeopardy. Should any good citizen have to suffer this?

Rush could see a deal with prosecutors in a long-running prescription fraud case collapse after authorities found a bottle of Viagra in his bag at Palm Beach International Airport. The prescription was not in his name.

I don't remember how it all played out, but Mr. Limbaugh still has a radio show from which to disseminate morals, so I guess we can assume a happy ending.

Mr. Limbaugh needs our support now more than ever, because of the vile response to his latest edifying emission: The powerful "Slut Sermon." What kind of vicious cad would be so heartless as to say this, for instance, about Mr. Limbaugh and his tragically dead colleague, Andrew Breitbart:

A cesspool always seeks its own level: Breitbart dies, so Rush becomes twice as repulsive.

Okay, it was me. I said it. But I said it in private, which is relatively polite. (Facebook is private, no?)

Good liberals will agree with me: Now is not the time to say such things about Mr. Limbaugh. Not when he is down, and apologetic. It was a low blow that he suffered -- they hit a man where it really hurts. I ask you: Which of us would not cry "Uncle!" when kicked in the sponsors?

I'd like to clarify here that in no way do I mean to suggest that Mr. Limbaugh is a sex tourist. I'm simply saying it because it sounds good. And anyway, it's not personal or anything. And furthermore, I apologize.

No public censure is meant to be inferred from this gift. Rush is manly, and human, and often married: He should be having sex. By definition, a man cannot be a slut. At best, a man is a player. And people who hate players are, by definition, player haters.

Moreover, Mr. Limbaugh is being responsible: He is not breaking his own nation's laws by having this kind of encounter. (I assume. Laws get tricky in certain circumstances, but Mr. Limbaugh is a responsible man.)

Let's address one last delicate matter. Some will say that by offering Mr. Limbaugh a Pfizer-fueled sex tour we are, in some remote fashion, undermining his commitment to the family. He is, after all, presently married. My understanding, however, is that with family-values swordsmen like Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich, marriage is a sort of catch-and-release program. Mr. Limbaugh need only wait until he is no longer married to take advantage of our offer.

This gesture is rigorously consistent with Mr. Limbaugh's sense of honor. There is nothing shameful here. It is utterly shameless. In fact, I propose that we present Mr. Limbaugh with his Viagra in a public ceremony, filled with respect and an earnest, Christmas-like spirit of generosity. A brass band might be appropriate. A formal ball?

I'm open to suggestion, but you can never go wrong with brass balls.

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Amnesia
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Milrose Munce and the Den of Professional Help (Extended Edition)
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