on Roundball: An imaginary interview with an imaginary sports
By Dennis Hans
What follows are excerpts from my (imaginary) interview
with Rush Limbaugh for the August 2003 edition of "For Laker
Lovers Only," the unofficial magazine of the Los Angeles Lakers.
All of the words but none of the mentality have been changed,
to implicate the guilty.
Dennis Hans: I understand you're an NBA fan.
Rush Limbaugh: Absolutely.
DH: Did the Magic Johnson "Showtime" Lakers of the Eighties
thrill you as much as they thrilled me?
RL: Yes, but what you call "Showtime" I call "The Rambis
Era." Kurt Rambis was the straw that stirred the Lakers' drink,
my friend. He set the tone with his hustle and desire, and
his nerd-style glasses were proof positive he was the smartest
player on the court. Magic, when he wasn't fornicating with
floosies, merely followed Kurt's lead.
DH: But Kurt wasn't a one-man gang. There was Cooper, Scott,
RL: Worthy?! The only "worthy" players, besides Rambis, were
Mark Landsberger and the Carolina Cager, Mitch Kupchak. Give
me twelve Mitch Kupchaks and I'll never lose a game.
DH: You'd need a point guard.
RL: Not with 12 Mitch Kupchaks.
DH: Seems to me you're forgetting arguably the greatest center
of all time, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
RL: Seems to me you're forgetting he was an average player
puffed up by the pro-Muslim sports media.
DH: It's no accident Kareem's a proud possesser of six championship
RL: The only thing I recall him possessing was that stash
of pot when he was busted at the airport.
DH: But nothing came of it because he had a medicinal-marijuana
prescription for chronic migraines. Surely you don't begrudge
Kareem the use of a low-risk medicine to relieve severe pain.
RL: Doing dope is ALWAYS wrong - particularly if the fiend
is a sports or media celebrity. We role models have a special
obligation to the young people who worship us.
DH: Those headaches were intense.
RL: Your excuses don't change the fact that Kareem was a
violent, deranged pothead who should have been locked up with
Jesse Jackson years ago.
DH: Jesse Jackson isn't in prison.
RL: True, but most of the inmates look just like him.
DH: I don't think that's the case, but maybe one day you
could find out for yourself.
RL: What's that supposed to mean?
DH: Merely suggesting a research project. Can we talk about
the current Lakers?
RL: Let's do.
DH: They've been on a roll, taking three of the last four
NBA titles. What's your opinion of the zen master, head coach
RL: The Marxist confidante of demonic Democrat "Dollar Bill"
Bradley? You really think he had anything to do with those
DH: The record speaks for itself.
RL: Look, we all know the early years of the so-called "Shaq
and Kobe Show" were a flop. But the man who came to the rescue
was not Whacko Jacko. It was Michael Penberthy, the savvy
sharpshooter who stretched the defense and drew triple-teams.
That opened things up around the hoop for that underrated
pillar of strength, Mark Madsen. Good ol' "Mad Dog" can score
even better than he can dance.
DH: If you're interested, he gives lessons. Dance, that is.
RL: Unfortunately, the buttocks sprain that prevented me
from fighting in 'Nam and winning that war singlehandedly
keeps me off the dance floor, much to the dismay of Mrs. Limbaugh.
DH: I don't recall Penberthy or Madsen playing particularly
significant roles on those title teams.
RL: Well, they did. And what made it so remarkable is that
even though they played like all-stars, the refs would never
grant them the leeway accorded other stars with, shall we
say, better tans.
DH: You mean black players?
RL: My friend, do you think it's an accident that players
with street-gang possÚs catch all the breaks? It's an ugly
combination of intimidation and reverse discrimination.
DH: Is that your cellphone?
RL: Yes, sir. Probably ESPN. They're eager to sign
me up to give their NFL pregame show the Rush it needs. Sunday
mornings will never be the same.