RUSH: About this house that looks like a trailer and cost 900 grand. The floors blew up because the pipes froze. No electricity, no gas. The future! It’s the future of environmentally clean and green living. We’re going to spend whatever the budget number is, $6.4 billion, and that’s just tip of the iceberg. It’s going to end up being more than that. We’re going to spend billions and billions and billions to ‘green up’ schools, right? We’re going to do to the schools what they tried to do in Troy, Michigan, with this house. We’re going to find out that the pipes are gonna freeze. We’re going to find out the roof is going to collapse when your average thunderstorm goes through there. We’re going to find out that they’re going to end up full of mold because of lousy air circulation. The kids are going to get sick from raw wood rot and mold and insects.
But here’s the thing about it. We know all of this, you know why? Because we’ve lived it, and because it was intolerable, we decided to improve it. So we came up with air-conditioning, and we came up with proper fabrics and tools and equipment to manufacture a roof that will stay on and pipes that won’t freeze. Advancing our lifestyles got rid of all the kids getting sick in school from wood rot, maggots, insects, collapsing roofs and pipes that burst.
And we’re headed back in that direction because that supposedly is gonna save the planet. Next thing you know, we’re going to go back to the horse and buggy and our streets are going to be dirt and mud with horse manure in the middle of them. It’s natural! That’s what’s idiotic and insane about Obamanomics. We’ve been there, and we didn’t like it, and we improved our quality of life, and we made things cleaner. You can’t tell me that a bunch of mold and bursting pipes and rotted wood and collapsed roofs is progress. Because, my friends, it isn’t.
RUSH: Do you remember, folks — speaking of ‘environmentally advanced’ buildings. In 1994, some of you who are new to the program, of course, will not remember this because you weren’t here to hear me say it originally. In 1994, I purchased a condominium in Manhattan, fashionable penthouse on the Upper East Side — and after the typical year and a half to two years of renovations, lawsuits, lies and stuff in Page Six about the whole process, moved in. One week after moving in, I am in my fashionable new bathroom preparing for bed. A thunderstorm goes nuts outside. I mean, it was just kabooming all over the place. The rain was pouring down. Within five minutes, water was pouring through the light sockets in the master bathroom. I mean, as fast your bathtub faucet will produce water. In the dining room, every opening possible, water was flowing, being flooded. One week after moving in.
In the kitchen, same thing, through the spots, the lights in the ceiling. Bam! Water was just pouring down, one week after moving in. I’m watching this running around grabbing pots and pans from the kitchen, which were meaningless, but I was trying to do something to get the water and keep it from damaging. The bed was soaked, and I said, ‘How the hell did this happen, and why did nobody tell us this when we were looking to buy it?’ You know what I learned later? There was a smaller penthouse above mine, and the people up there had a lot of terraces, and they had turned it into a garden. They essentially had a roof garden up there, and they had… Well, I’ll be charitable.
They had failed to follow various codes and so forth in putting it together, and the membranes in the ceiling (the floor) that were supposed to be there, were there, but they were not done properly, and that amount of rain, flash thunderstorm, just soaked it. That’s what got into my apartment below. Now, I mention this not because I want sympathy, because it’s not that at all. I mention this because roof gardens are the latest craze, on school roofs. Yes! We don’t have enough trees out in the front yard. We don’t have enough grass. We have to put a roof garden up there to help save the planet from global warming.
Well, I’ve lived under one. And, by the way, this went on for four years. Even after they supposedly fixed it, it kept leaking, only not the full force, faucet-type flow of water. It was drip, drip, drip, but I eventually had to rip out a lot of ceilings, put it back in, curtains and so forth. The damage was incredible, all because the people up there wanted to be able to go outside to their roof garden. (interruption) Ah, the insurance company paid, yes. Of course, that was a hassle, too. It’s always a hassle. Yeah, but they tried not to. I mean, they tried to blame the building, the building said, ‘No, it’s not us. It’s the tenant.’ The tenant said, ‘No, it’s the building.’ Other people said, ‘No, it’s your fault for not checking before you bought the place.’
It was typical of the way these disputes go. That’s not my point. My point is, I’ve lived under one of these damn things, and I’ve had my property destroyed. We’re going backwards with all this environmental rotgut. Okay. (interruption) What? What’s the moral of the story? What is the…? (interruption) Mmm-hmm? Mmm-hmm? No, I didn’t know because it was much smaller. The roof garden… The building was tapered. They had more outside square footage than they had inside their apartment. Actually the condo they had was smaller than mine. Mine was the whole floor, and theirs was the whole floor, but theirs was about half the size and then outside that is where the roof garden was. (interruption)
Well, it’s easy to see now. Yeah, I shoulda bought both. Right. Easy to say now. Actually if you can think that way, I should have bought the top three. ‘Cause then when the middle one got damaged I would have had someplace to go while fixing the middle floor, but there wouldn’t have been damage because I wouldn’t have built a roof garden up there! I’d have built standard patios, put a barbecue pit or whatever up there, and lived a normal life up there rather than wandering around a bunch of weeds! (sigh)