All right, the world's most famous doctor shopper is free already on a $3K bond, having the good fortune to have ready access to the that kind of scratch. (Not the slang term "scratch," meaning "semoleans," but sources tell me he actually scratched his Vietnam draft-dodging anal cyst and that much money fell out. Doubtless trapped in one of those giggly, rolling-around-on-a-bed-of-money orgies.) Lots of folks in that situation would have trouble meeting the bond, probably calling all kinds of relatives who didn't want to hear from them and offering fire-sale prices on whatever vehicles, guitars, or extant drugs they had. But not Rusty L., probably the wealthiest broadcaster in the hate-for-Jesus kingdom.
Do I, like many of my leftie friends, gloat over Trenchmouth's legal woes? A little, sure. But, being a liberal, I have to feel for the guy, too. Just because he's made a career of cruelty and bad education doesn't mean he's a heartless fool. Probably. Though there's no way for a listener to discern humanity in the Talent on Loan from God, the drug thing proves that there's at least a nervous system in there somewhere.
And that nervous system, despite being weighed down by a brain that revels in "self abuse," as he told an e-girlfriend years ago, expresses pain. Screaming buttloads of pain, apparently, given the number of pills he was hoarding. That or he was planning to host the Bush family for the weekend.
Which brings us to Florida (shudder), and the legal system there (for sale). If you're wealthy enough or dressed like a cartoon, you can always beat the law in Florida. In fact, the law itself in Florida is specifically skewed to favor the wealthy and mice, "protecting" wealthy people from having to pay judgments, even in famous, not-even-remotely-racially-charged-no-matter-what-certain-people-say wrongful death suits. Every felon or potential felon in The Sunshine State should change their name to "O.J. Limbaugh Bush," guaranteeing themselves years of unhindered lawlessness.
In Rush's case, the state legal system that empowered creepy breast implant display rack Katherine Harris dropped essentially all of the drug charges as long as he promised to duck into a church basement a few times a month and announce, "I'm Rush L. and I'm an addict." To which the other addicts respond, "Ditto, Rush."
But Rush's legal team knows they can't just go around crowing about their client's near-miss with responsibility. So they opt for the more heartstring-tugging, blatantly racist tack. "The idea is to help the person overcome the addiction ... There should be a recognition that people like Rush really should not be prosecuted." That's Limbaugh's attorney Roy Black, telling us "people like Rush" have a special kind of law. Who are "people like Rush," who "really should not be prosecuted?" Are they the same people who, like Limbaugh, say they're not interested in leveling the playing field in America? (And if you're only willing to play on an unlevel field, isn't that just admitting that you're too weak and George Will-level pansified to face actual competition? Somebody in the supernatural circuit needs to ask Reagan about this.)
So, yes, Florinda, the war on drugs is not just a war on Americans with drugs, as Sam Kinison said, but specifically and demonstrably a war on poor Americans with drugs. Particularly if they have accents and interesting skin hues. That should cause thinking people enough pain to spur a phenomenal rush on OxyContin dispensaries. (Tip: Shop around. It's okay.)
Somewhat related note:
I posted recently about the FDA's political announcement that cannabis, regardless of medical research, has no medicinal value, and a commenter laid out his inside-the-drug-war story. First time possession shackled him with a no-win choice: three years in hell or finagle his folks into mortgaging the ranch. I hear you saying "Wha?" like that Jon Stewart Scooby Doo impression and further wondering aloud "How does one beat a drug charge with money?" (Was that not you? Maybe it was her over there.) In this guy's case, he received a thirty thousand dollar bill from the judge's campaign committee with the menu: Pay up or get sent down. He chose to get sent down.