Rush Limbaugh, Discuss Radio’s Conservative Provocateur, Dies at 70

Alone with his multitudes in his studio joked, scolded, twittered and burst out singing, mimicry or boo-hoos when “The Rush Limbaugh Show” broadcast over 650 stations on Premier Radio Networks, a subsidiary of iHeartMedia (formerly Clear Channel) Communication). In his alternate universe in the air, he was “El Rushbo” and “America’s Anchorman” in the “Southern Command” bunker of an “Excellence in Broadcasting” network.

For loyal “Dittoheads”, his defiantly self-deprecating followers, he was an indomitable patriot, an icon of wit and wisdom – Mark Twain, Father Coughlin and the founding fathers rolled into one. His political influence lies in the reactions he provoked, the avalanches of phone calls, emails and website anger, the headlines and the occasional praise or anger from the White House and Capitol Hill.

For critics, he was a hypocritical charlatan, the most dangerous man in America, a label he co-opted. And some critics insisted he had no real political power, just an intimidating, self-glorifying presence influencing an aging far-right fringe whose numbers, while impressive, were not big enough to sway the outcome of the national elections.

In any case, it was a commercial phenomenon that grossed $ 85 million a year. Married four times and divorced three times, he had no children and lived on a seaside estate in a 24,000-square-foot mansion. It contained oriental carpets, chandeliers, and a two-story, mahogany-paneled library of leather-bound collections. He had half a dozen cars, one costing $ 450,000, and a Gulfstream G550 jet valued at $ 54 million.

He dropped $ 5,000 in tips at restaurants, adding to the grandiloquence of a proud college dropout, and was slightly caricatured himself: overweight all his life, sometimes over 300 pounds, a cigar smoker with a mischievous grin and sly eyes, straggly hair Mastodon’s forehead combed back. He moved his mass with surprising grace as he demonstrated an environmentalist gently hopping in a wooded area. But his voice was his brass ring – a brisk, quick staccato that erupted into squeaky dolphin talk or falsetto sobs to expose the benefactors, and dazzled America with its inventive, bloody vocabulary.

A full obituary will be published shortly.

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