My Dad, the Dittohead: Rush Limbaugh Stole Our Fathers

A Gen X Perspective

I’ve never watched the documentary The Brainwashing of My Dad. It hits just a little too close to home.

My dad grew up on a farm in Ohio, but never talked about it. Handsome, with a winning smile, he was an excellent salesman and a self-made man in a time before the internet – no small feat.

He was also a card-carrying Midwestern conservative. Growing up in the ‘80s, we had a subscription to The Conservative Chronicle. He saved every issue, neatly folded and stacked on the magazine rack for easy reference. He watched Pat Buchanan face off against "that skinny liberal" on Crossfire every night at 6pm.

We set the dinner clock to that show.

And of course he listened to Rush Limbaugh – the OG MAGA and the inventor of right-wing talk radio.

Rush barreled onto the national radio scene in 1988, but his rise required a few pieces to fall into place. Unfortunately for all of us, they did quite nicely.

First, in the ‘70s, the popularity of FM radio (which has superior audio quality but shorter broadcast range than AM) increased dramatically – leaving AM radio with an existential need to boost audiences … and a lot of airtime to fill.

Meanwhile, in 1980 the Heritage Foundation published its first Mandate For Leadership (the most recent Mandate for Leadership is popularly known as Project 2025). Ronald Reagan reportedly gave each cabinet member a copy, and by the end of his first year in office the administration would boast that it had implemented over half of the plans in Heritage’s playbook.

One of Heritage’s goals was the deregulation of the telecommunications industry.

Up through the 1980s, Federal Communications Commission regulations required adherence to the so-called Fairness Doctrine. That doctrine required broadcasters to spend equal time on differing viewpoints of controversial topics – or risk the loss of their broadcast license.

But after Reagan swept into office (armed with the Heritage playbook) he appointed loyalist Mark Fowler to head up the FCC. Fowler hired loyalists for lower positions, and effectively remade the agency into a deregulation machine. In Heritage’s comprehensive audit of Reagan’s first year (helpfully titled “The First Year”) it gleefully recounted Fowler’s penchant for “unregulation” and his speeches to industry leaders – which put them on notice that new regulation would be in the form of “marketplace forces” and competition.

“Let the players play,” was Fowler’s motto.

Play they did.

The First Year audit noted the progress on efforts to revise the 1934 Telecommunications Act – which included repealing the Fairness Doctrine. It said, simply, “EFFORTS UNDERWAY.”

And they were. By 1985 the FCC had officially disavowed the Fairness Doctrine in the Federal Register.

And by 1987, the Regan administration’s FCC rescinded the Fairness Doctrine altogether. Although Congress passed a bill to revive the Fairness Doctrine and expand its use to cable, Regan vetoed it. And just like that, rather than having to present both sides of an issue, radio and t.v. programming could be intentionally one-sided.

It was in that landscape, in 1988, that The Rush Limbaugh Show burst onto the national airwaves. The country hasn’t been the same since.

The Rush Limbaugh Show broadcast from 11am-2pm weekdays; it debuted on 50 or so stations, but within three months expanded to 100. At its peak in the ‘90s it was carried by over 650 stations and heard by over 20 million Americans each week.

Rush was intentionally offensive. Brash. Arrogant. Even cruel. He said feminism was established “to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream.” He slut-shamed women, assured his listeners that “no means yes if you know how to spot it,” used anti-trans slurs, argued LGBTQ rights were “anti-American,” and commissioned a parody song for his show called "Barack the Magic Negro.” He was one of the first to claim global warming was a hoax. (Koch Industries hired him in the early ‘90s to cut an ad for his program explaining away global warning, saying “the facts simply don’t jibe with the theory.”)

The list of his offenses is long.

But he was also the consummate storyteller, and the pioneer of what we now call infotainment.

Rush would sit before a stack of papers – faxes, newspaper clippings, notes – and over the course of three hours weave all of them together like a massive puzzle. Eventually disparate stories from all corners of the country would come together under one larger theme – often blaming the “liberal elites” or media. (Sound familiar?)

It’s a herculean effort for a radio host to hold up an entire three-hour program solo. But that feature also made it feel to millions of Americans like my dad that they were having an intimate, one-on-one conversation with Rush. And a daily conversation with someone as charismatic and confident as Rush was like catnip for millions of American men.

Rush’s devotees would call into the program and gush for the first minute or so about how much they loved the program. At one point a caller said “Ditto to what that last person said about loving your show.” From then on, rather than gushing for the first 30 seconds of their time, callers would just begin their comment with “ditto” or “mega dittos” – earning them the name “Dittoheads.”

Rush had real respect for the Dittoheads – people who felt increasingly left behind and out of the conversation. He personified their anger for feeling blamed for society’s problems, and a sense that they were “dismissed, scorned, and made fun of by the mainstream media.”

To be fair, there really was a haughtiness from coastal, corporate media at the time. The Washington Post’s tagline at the time was “If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.”

My dad didn’t get it.

And neither did 20 million other Americans.

As you could imagine, my teenage brain had a hard time grappling with Rush Limbaugh. He was offensive, sure, but it was supposed to be funny, right? At least that's how it was described to me. And because my own father was a fan, it's what I believe-hoped.

I understood that Rush’s humor was that "wink wink nod nod" kind of adult humor. These were inside jokes, but on a categorical scale. And my goal, as my dad's daughter and a people-pleaser, was to be the kind of person he could share those inside jokes with.

Even when the joke was on me.

If you're a parent, you know that sometimes the mere presence of our kids can be an uncomfortable mirror. I was that awkward reminder for my dad, at least once that I can remember. It was a mild summer day, and the windows were down. The corn was high already. Rush was on the car radio.

I can still see my dad laughing to Rush's most recent off-color joke, until he caught a view of me in the rear view mirror.

A quick emotion flashed across his face (was it shame? hard to say), and then annoyance.

Don't be so sensitive, Shelly.

I tried not to be. Really, I did.

But if it's tough for people to square their neighbors' rancid political views with their kind actions, imagine how hard that is for a child. Imagine hearing your dad laugh about "femi-nazis" ... and then ask you how school is going.

Imagine trying to square a parent's love for you ... with their devotion to a radio personality that holds your existence and success in complete contempt.

Even today, it's a mind-bender.

But I was one of millions of young women who grew up listening – against her will – to a fat middle-aged man who served up anger and belonging to a very willing audience of fathers.

As I’m sure is obvious at this point, Rush was the prototype for MAGA – the gateway drug before American men like my dad mainlined Trump into their veins.

But Donald Trump wasn’t just a Rush fan. He was an A++ student. He hits the same themes and strikes the same notes. Whether he’s talking about the “liberal elites” or the “fake news,” often he’s just reinforcing well-worn paths that Rush laid down 35 years ago. He isn’t as skilled as Rush; his rambling rally monologues don’t hold a candle to Rush’s daily program. But perhaps now you can see why his audience is primed for that sort of delivery and why he thinks it makes sense to give it.

It was Rush that showed Trump – ever the huckster – how powerful (and profitable) "telling it like it is" could be. Trump saw the model, improved upon it, weaponized it ... and here we are.

I've wondered for decades how and why Rush was such a powerful force. And, for my dad at least, I think the answer is really pretty simple.

He felt seen. Really, truly, seen.

Rush gave voice to the anguish and anxiety that he felt – the concern that things were falling apart faster than he could stitch them back together. That he should somehow be further along, or doing better, or happier, or ... something.

And that someone else must be to blame, because he had done everything "right."

He had the job, the house, the wife, the kids, the dog, the cars...

So why wasn't everything grand?

Rush soothed that gnawing insecurity by suggesting "It’s not your fault. You know, if only these liberals weren't holding you back to help other people get ahead, you'd be doing better."

Being absolved of the responsibility for not having the life you wanted is powerful. It relieves you of the guilt and regret for not having accomplished more. It takes the anger you had directed inside, and redirects it ... outside.

Plus I imagine knowing there was a whole community of Dittoheads like him made those feelings of insecurity easier to manage – because his pain was no longer unique. Misery loves company, and here there was camaraderie even in isolation.

I'm now around the age that my dad would have been when I was in the backseat of his car, listening to Rush. I get the same middle-aged pangs of grief over lost time and anxiety over the future. My father was such a talented man.

I'm actually glad that Rush made him feel seen.

I just wish he had seen his daughter.

My story is not unique, and I wish it had a better ending.

My father died in 2016 before Trump was elected. By then he wasn’t listening to Rush anymore, because by that point his drug of choice was Hannity. He had recently retired, but my stepmother complained that he didn’t want to do anything anymore. Instead, he sat in front of the television day after day, engrossed in fake Fox outrage.

When they took him to the hospital he was wearing his bright red Make America Great Again hat. I bit my tongue when Trump’s name came up, which was surprisingly often. My stepmother informed me that God would never allow “that woman” to be president. Her pastor had told her that, she explained, and so she knew it to be God’s will.

But over the years the sharp edges have been sanded off, and brighter memories have risen to the surface. When I think of my dad, my mind tracks back to when he visited me in Chicago and pushed my young son on the swings (so high!); the excited, hopeful look on his face when I came to visit him in Florida; and the quiet moments the day before he died when I held his hand and made him laugh.

We didn’t talk politics. By then he couldn’t really talk, but mouthed words that I could understand and we both got to say what we needed to.

He did his best. We all do.

But I will always wonder if the toxic culture that wrapped my dad in its grasp robbed me of the father I always wished I had, and that I saw hints of throughout his life.

I loved him very much.

So I’m not surprised to see women my age marveling at Tim Walz, and wistfully calling him America’s dad.

After all, ours were stolen from us.

Maybe Kamala and Tim can show them the way home.

Let’s get to work.

Actions for the Week of September 3, 2024

Here’s the part where – if you are so inclined – we roll up our sleeves and engage in what I like to call Action Therapy. Each Tuesday I share a few “small things” – usually a Small Thing to Read, a Small Event to Attend, and a Small Call to Make or Action to Take. You can tuck these actions into your week with ease – and know that you’re doing something today to make tomorrow better.

Small Thing(s) to Read

First, if you didn’t catch it already, I published a post this weekend detailing the creativity of a Blue Ohio-supported nominee. It’s a quick read, and a pretty inspiring story! Check it out here:

Second, if you are interested in the Heritage Foundation’s history of Mandate for Leadership, head over to the Internet Archive where you can check out their earliest iterations for one hour at a time, for free. https://archive.org/about/

In particular, The First Year is available at the Internet Archive for checkout: Holwill, Richard, editor. The First Year. Heritage Press, 1981.

Small Event(s) to Attend: Blue MO Thursday; NC on Wednesday!

Blue Missouri: Join amazing

Jess Piper

and me on Thursday night as we introduce some of the Blue Missouri supported nominees and catch up with other statewide candidates. As usual, it will be a fun affair and I hope you can make it. Register HERE.

Tending to Democracy: On Wednesday at 7pm eastern, my good friend Jan is hosting her Giving Circle (Tending To Democracy) for a conversation about North Carolina. Special guests include David Pepper and Wiley Nickel.

David Pepper’s book, Laboratories of Autocracy, sounds the alarm of how we are losing democracy in the states. The Tending to Democracy Giving Circle was inspired by Heather Cox Richardson and generously supported by Robert Hubbell (and their readers!).  Register for this event on 9/04/24 by clicking this link: DO SOMETHING for NORTH CAROLINA Check out the Tending to Democracy Giving Circle in advance, or donate here if you will not be able to attend the event.

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