To the editor:
Today I sit here in our dining room looking out at the large snowflakes falling and giving a serene feeling. Yesterday, my old coon dog, Clyde, and Rush Limbaugh died.
My coon dog and I had retired from coon hunting, but I could still walk out on the porch and blow my hunting horn, and he would come bursting out of the doghouse barking and run to the end of his 30-foot chain ready to go.
Rush Limbaugh’s wife came on the EIB Network and announced that Rush would not be coming to the golden microphone anymore. Like old Clyde, at 12:05 p.m., he would come roaring out over the airwaves ready to go on an excursion of excellence with "half his brain tied behind his back just to make it fair" to liberals.
Old Clyde came here years ago, lost and so poor if he walked between you and the sun, you could count every bone in his body. He had no collar, so I never knew to whom he belonged. A few shots of penicillin, a worming and plenty of food saved his life. I was not searching for him, but he came to me.
Thirty years ago, I was traveling down the road, flipping through radio stations and heard a man excited about what he was saying. As I listened, I thought, "That is what I believe." Like Old Clyde, I was not searching for Rush Limbaugh, but he came to me over the radio, and we have been on a 30-year trip.
We treed a lot of liberals and knocked some out of office, but we won’t hunt them five days a week anymore. Mr. Limbaugh said he had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, so he has gone to heaven where he will forever be safe from all the liberals that hated everything about him.
James Brown
Morgantown
