Maureen Dowd: Rush Limbaugh Not Technically A Neanderthal

Oh to be a fly on the wall for this dinner! Maureen Dowd takes a stab at Rush Limbaugh with her poison pen (not literally, though that might have been less painful) over Limbaugh referring to President Barack Obama as a narcissist, among other things. No one will refer to Obama as a insecure preener but MoDo, thank you very much! Behold, Dowd recounting a four hour meal she once had with Rush :

I had a four-hour dinner once with Rush Limbaugh at the “21” Club in Manhattan, back in the days when I was still writing profiles as a “reporterette,” to use a Limbaugh coinage.

He was charming, in a shy, awkward, lonely-guy way. Not a man of the people. He arrived in a chauffeured town car and ordered $70-an-ounce Beluga, Porterhouse and 1990 Corton-Charlemagne.

But he was not a Neanderthal, though he did have a cold and blew his nose in his napkin. He talked about Chopin’s Polonaise No. 6, C.S. Lewis and how much he loved the end of the movie “Love Story.”

In those days, he called himself a “harmless little fuzzball.” He’s a lot less harmless now. I went on to columny, as my pal Bill Safire called it, and Rush went on to calumny.

I don’t know, I think MoDo has also spent some time at calumny, but point taken! For those of you not blessed with the memory of my managing editor Colby Hall, the dinner MoDo is referring to in today’s column actually took place back in 1993. The dinner itself was well-documented at time for the…wait for it…NYT ‘Home and Garden’ section by none other than Dowd, herself. It was famously the dinner during which a friend of Rush’s noticed the pair an remarked loudly “Well, Rush, that’s got to be either a hooker or a reporter.” Strangely MoDo doesn’t included this detail (I mean that sincerely, it’s the sort of detail Dowd lives for). Of course, if she had she might also have been expected to note that Rush apologized for his friend more than once, and that detail doesn’t fit quite as nicely into the narcissistic, neanderthal-ish description. Just for compare and contrast purposes here’s Dowd’s description of the dinner from her 1993 piece:

“Are you going to write about what we eat here?” he demands, offering a dramatic rendition for an amused waiter of the possible story that would result: ” ‘And Limbaugh claims to be just an average guy and then orders $70-an-ounce beluga and forces it on a reporter.’ ”

The reporter promises that there will be full disclosure that she never needs to be forced to eat caviar.

Mollifed, Mr. Limbaugh continues the order: “Bring some Beluga. Porterhouse for two. And mashed potatoes.” There is also a bottle of 1990 Corton-Charlemagne.

Apparently there is not a statute of limitations on reporting a dinner. Another fun little tidbit from today’s a column: Dowd’s mother was a Rush fan. Here’s the closer:

“But on Sunday, he ripped the president for having “an out-of-this-world ego,” for being “very narcissistic,” “immature, inexperienced, in over his head.” (Isn’t immaturity scoring OxyContin from your maid?) It gives new meaning to pot, kettle and black.”

I will admit Maureen Dowd, herself, frequently gives new meaning to “pot, kettle and black” but upon reading this column all I could really imagine was how smart it would be for Meet the Press to book a Maureen Dowd, Rush Limbaugh round table this weekend, and maybe throw Rachel Maddow in there to keep things grounded in some sort of reality.

Related:
Who Are You Calling a Narcissist, Rush? [NYT, 2009]

AT DINNER WITH: Rush Limbaugh; A Shy, Sensitive Guy Trying to Get By in Lib City [NYT, 1993]

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