And if Rush is anything, he’s humble. So let us, in our blind hubris, listen carefully, constructively:
You must be either agnostic or atheistic to believe that man controls something that he can’t create. The vanity! These people — on the one hand, ‘We’re no different than a mouse or a rat.’ If you listen to the animal rights activists, we are the pollutants of this planet.
The head of Limbaugh’s extensively researched and finely honed argument turns on the paradoxical neck of the animal rights movement. No fool, he carefully conceals most of the precepts and principles of the cause. As such, it’s for our benefit, so as not to confuse us. He continues:
If it weren’t for humanity — the military environmentalist wackos — the Earth would be pristine and wonderful and beautiful, and nobody would see it. According to them we are not as entitled to life on this planet as other creatures because we destroy it. But how can we destroy it when we’re no different from the lowest life forms?
There are depths here, nuanced shifts in meaning, sudden leaps of universal clarity that only the vain and foolish dare to plumb or challenge.
Carefully baiting, setting his syllogism—the absurdities of human-mice and man-gods revealed—the conclusion hangs above our heads, awaiting the Alexandrian sword. Now, to the annihilating swing:
And then on the other end, ‘We are so powerful. And we are so impotent — omnipotent that we can destroy — we can’t even stop a rain shower, but we can destroy the climate.’ And how? With barbecue pits and automobiles, particularly SUVs. It’s absurd.
This is simply a devastating argument. My mere mortal protest has fallen like a cell phone from my shirt pocket, as I stoop, say, to lift a toilet seat.
And so, as theist, I’m left with two options: To become agnostic or atheist, and seal—in Limbaugh’s immutable estimation—my fate with the mice and rats and wackos, while retaining a semblance of intellectual integrity, although this is far from sure. Or, to revaluate my theology, now made objectively errant, leave off my prideful notions of creation-stewardship and take my place at Sunday Worship—later to lather my SUV and gather at the grand barbecue pit of the faithful.