Written by Charpa93
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Saturday, 22 May 2010

image for Realtor Can't Suppress Laughter while Showing Rush Limbaugh's Manhattan Condo
Rush Limbaugh Was Here

New York, NY - By now, most people have seen the news that Rush Limbaugh is selling his New York Penthouse condo and moving out of New York due to the high rise in taxes. He said he would move and he's keeping his promise so far. Many wish he would have kept his promise to move to Costa Rica if Obama's Health Care Reform Bill passed as well, but I digress.

The "double-wide" condo as it is affectionately called by the upper crust in Manhattan boasts more than its share of gaudy accoutrements, and as such, has garnered a reputation as being one of the ugliest pieces of Manhattan real estate in the history of, well, real estate. Even Donald Trump has been quoted as saying, "if we could, a bunch of us would get together and have the place bulldozed. The only thing holding us back is that it's on the top floor of the freakin' building!" The realtor showing the condo agrees and admits that she is having a hard time containing her laughter while showing certain portions of the condo.

"Ok, let's see if I can get through this interview without totally losing it," says Mary Showbottom, as she walks us around the condo and gives us a peek at what it is that sets her off every time. Mimicking the way she would take a bona fide buyer through, she begins as we step off the elevator. "First, let me take you into the foyer," she says, stifling a giggle as we step directly into the penthouse. "This pre-war condo is a decoration masterpiece," she almost chokes on another giggle as she walks us toward the public areas.

"And this," she says with a sweep of her hand, "is the double-wide living room (snortle) complete with two wood-burning fireplaces," she manages to get out without completely losing her composure. "It is part of the right wing (snortle-gmph), which includes all common areas (ahem-garumph), including the kitchen and breakfast area, where it is a known fact that Rush likes to spend Sunday morning out on the terrace overlooking the reservoir reading the Sunday paper and enjoying a large stack of Aunt Jemima pancakes (oh good Lord, harrumph, sorry.)"

Along the way, we are treated to sights of indulgence that go way beyond even that found in a Fundamentalist Christian Worship Hall. "The Grandeur," as it is called was one of the most ornate bedrooms we have ever laid eyes on. Hand-painted murals of the second coming not only graced the walls, but the ceiling as well.

We look up and ask Ms. Showbottom about the ornate molding. "Whoo boy, you just don't give a girl a break do you? (hmph, crimple, gasp, snortle) That is hand-painted gold leaf," she replied, "as are the reins on the horses and the rays coming out of heaven in the overhead mural. Let's all take a moment to bow our heads in prayer," she wisecracks under her breath as she leads us toward the en-suite bathroom to witness the piece de resistance, a gold chandelier above the ornate, double-wide 16-jet jacuzzi bathtub complete with pure gold fixtures. Unable to hold her sarcasm any longer, Ms. Showbottom announces, "apparently, Jacuzzi bathtubs were all the rage in pre-war New York (hmphrump, snizzle, wheeze)."

By now, we are all feeling a little light-headed from trying to control our own laughter, but we continue on. We can't help but notice some of the walls are padded and upholstered in silk damask and ask why that is. Ms. Showbottom opines that perhaps it cuts down on injuries, and leaves it at that.

We aren't sure what is up ahead, but we can imagine it is quite interesting judging from the way Ms. Showbottom is covering her mouth with one hand and hunched over holding her ribs in apparent pain caused by trying once more to stifle a bout of laughter. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we are entering the 'other' right wing," she says as strange noises emanate from her nostrils. (Steady, steady, calm, she tells herself) "Mr. Limbaugh refuses to believe that a left wing even exists (gurgle, snort, whistle, phew, my God, I'm sorry, but I can't do this any longer, help me Jeezusss)."

And with that, the tour ended abruptly when Ms. Showbottom collapsed in a heap laughing uncontrollably beside the 17th Century Queen Anne bed replete with a Civil War-era duvet.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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