Vanity is spread awfully thick across the pages of Vanity Fair, and nowhere more so than when James Wolcott is writing a jeremiad. The most recent target of the sage of Frostburg State is Rush Limbaugh, and his idiot listeners, for fiddling while the planet burned due to global warming and the overuse of toilet tissue:
Global warming's most popular denialist, talk radio's most imitated showman, conservatism's minister of disinformation, he has injected millions of semi-vacant American skulls with a cream filling of complacency that has helped thrust this country into the forefront of backward leadership....May the grasses of his favorite golf courses go forever yellow and dust storms whip from the sand traps.
So much for compassionate liberalism, not that Wolcott's ever been known for it. But it gets stranger when he notes that Limbaugh grew cocky in his second book by noting eco-panic specialist Paul Ehrlich was dreadfully wrong in books:
Limbaugh put aside any puckish pretense of modesty and exulted in pure gloat. Having a mega-best-seller will do that to your glands. His environmental chapter here is largely a rehash of the environmentalist-wacko section in The Way Things Ought to Be (once again he highlights how wrong Dr. Paul Ehrlich got it with The Population Bomb, in 1968, where Ehrlich prophesied that the 70s would be a massive die-in of disaster-movie proportions—a Malthusian vision of mass starvation), one of its few original additions being the introduction of a new bLte noire and butt of humor that goes by the handle of Algore.
So who is in denial? Rush's dittoheads? Or people who can't seem to remember all the panicked forecasts from leftist goofballs like Ehrlich predicting global doom in 1968, or 1975, or 1989?