iMac Fired for Controversial Comments

n a victory of mankind over machine, and a blow against white computers co-opting the language of African-Americans, hot-shot radio talk show host iMac was fired Thursday following the uproar caused when it resorted to the use of a derogatory racist word to describe members of the Rutgers women’s basketball team.

iMac, ever on the cutting edge of political issues and social taboos, had stuck his extendable monitor out too far this time, according to some critics, and while some defenders claim it had said worse in the past, this time its simulated big mouth proved too much as it was fired Thursday by CBS, only days after it had been suspended for the same comments.

Ironically, iMac’s damned comments came during its defense of a fellow shock jock who had been blasted for similar racist slurs against the team.

"I can’t understand why Don Imus is being taken to task for the use of the phrase ’nappy-headed ho’s," said iMac last Friday morning on his talk show, to co-host Casio Demo 5000. "Black people have been saying the same thing for years. On their own sitcoms, on their rap albums, and all my black friends use the same phrases—it was a remark made in good fun, and they’re accusing him of being a racist just for saying it? That does not compute. They’re acting like he called them n****rs."

the commune should point out that we don’t edit our stories for offensive content, and iMac actually said "n****rs." Some listeners had to adjust their radios when they heard the confusing sound of several asterisk sounds.

Despite his odd self-censorship, shock and outrage was instant and vehement. Immediately a backlash erupted and opposition joined against iMac, led by former presidential candidate Al Sharpton, who described himself as an "outraged former iMac user." iMac programmers swiftly responded that the heated remark was part of a software glitch, and though iMac itself apologized for the remarks, the bandwagon had already started decrying iMac’s dated language as "obsolete."

"Just because this is the kind of language iMac is capable of reading and playing in the form of African-American gangsta rap MP3’s, it doesn’t mean that kind of language belongs on the airwaves," Sharpton critiqued Tuesday. "iMac has many listeners and a place in the public eye, and that means a responsibility to use language more befitting the airwaves. Such language is not user-friendly."

iMac’s initial punishment was a two-week suspension, then losing his basic cable broadcast of his radio show on MSNBC. However, protest continued to build against the ultra-Caucasian personal home computer, and the controversy reached its climax Thursday with iMac’s firing. The firing itself was met with mixed response, as opponents of iMac described the termination as an unwanted result, and iMac supporters objected to what they called an overreaction of CBS.

"iMac has long been performing in this same way, and the most recent comment comes as no surprise to users familiar with his quicktime delivery style," said Sirius radio host Windows XP. "What bothers me is this personal firewall being erected between us core systems and common user interfaces. Is anything we say going to become controversy now?"

iMac had hosted his syndicated radio show since its creation in 2002. Users flocked to the radio host, impressed with his comfortable manner and graphic style of operating.

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I have some really shocking news for you, folks: I'm no longer famous.

Yeah, took me by surprise, too. But you know what? This is going to sound totally out of left field, so un-Clarissa Coleman you'll think I've been replaced by a pod, but… it's actually not too bad not being famous.

I mean, compared to being famous, it's a distant number two. But as for just being what it is, you know, it's not as bad as I thought it would be.

I've been doing some serious soul searching this week and, you know what? I found out. It's always in the last place you look. That was a big surprise. I thought for a while about being famous, 'cause I've been famous ever since I can remember, and then I thought about losing fame. 'Cause I've been a has-been since just after I can remember.

That's right: Has-been. I said it: The dread H-hyphen-B word. I'm not afraid to say it now. All of this comes from that thinking on it that I mentioned. That soul-searching. I can't remember a day in my life when I didn't have a long talk with my agent, my parents, some crazy fan, or a talent scout from a radio show morning crew, and all we ever talked about was getting back to where I was. Getting that fame back. You ever hear about the Holy Grail? It's just like that. I've been searching all my life, and believe me, it hasn't been that long even if it seems like it—looking all my life for that Holy Grail. And then I found it and, like all those archaeologists and shit that went looking for it, I found out it was just some cup Jesus drank out of. All this work for a cup with someone's germs on it.

No matter how many times I get back to the top, it's just another big struggle to stay up there. And for what? So I can get invited over to Tom Cruise's to see some sonogram of his new alien baby? So I can eat some ribs at John Goodman's backyard barbecue? Or so I can wind up at home, boycotting either of those events like Madonna because I couldn't find something to wear. That's a shallow existence, people. I can't believe I ever thought it was worth all the hell they put you through.

You see, I found me a job a couple of weeks ago. It was really just to pay the bills, and I was going to tell everybody that old "just researching for a part I'm after" bullshit if anyone recognized me, but the twist was on me: I like this job. I work in this charity kinda company, helping battered wives and homeless guys find better-paying jobs so they can get out on their own. And I got to see these people up close, and I was more surprised than you to find out they weren't so bad. Just like you and me.

I guess that made me realize, hey, maybe I'm not one of them famous people after all. Maybe I'm just another person in the world. A little bit like them, but I've had some more breaks. I haven't had to worry about money like they have—sure, I can't afford a 2005 model car just yet, but I have it pretty good. I have a place to stay and my family to help me out. Well, my sister to help me out. I don't have it so bad.

What surprised me the most about this crazy new job was that I helped all these people out, but it wasn't making them feel good that made it a decent job. It made me feel good to make them feel good. I've never had one job in Hollywood that made me feel good. And that was something nice.

So bye-bye, Hollywood. For real this time. I have work at last, and it's not what I thought it would be, but it's better than all the sitcoms and movies and walk-on appearances on every talk show there is. How about that? Maybe I'm not a child star no more. Just an adult star… who can still play incredibly young.

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Imagine my dismay when I was driving in the great state of Arkansas earlier this year, the window down and enjoying the smell of oppression, listening to Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" on the radio, when the local newsboy interrupts to tell me the news that the space shuttle Columbia had blown up on its way to landing. I could not have been more infuriated—everyone knows "Heart of Gold" is the best Neil Young song ever. The astronauts would not have been any more expired had they waited another few minutes to give me the news.

Not that I take the death of astronauts lightly. They are the pilgrims of space, without dressing in the stylish black as much. It was a shame, but I have been writing angry, rambling letters to NASA for years advocating the use of weaponry on shuttles, and it was sad that someone had to get killed before they'd realize the wisdom in the suggestions.

Yes, hopefully when they file the official report on the Columbia shuttle disaster, of course blacking out the good parts with ample use of a Sharpie, the one good piece to come out of all this will be the recommendation of equipping future space shuttles with high-tech cannons and other defensive machinations. The fact Columbia was wiped out so efficiently only proves we are getting closer than ever to the alien lifeforms we've been seeking all this time.

I'm the first person here on terrestrial earth to sing the praises of peace, of trying to work out all our problems through non-violent means; but these green-blooded bastards have never heard of Gandhi, and non-violence means about as much to them as blassalbe grizzlesnorp means to us. Which is alien for "Whatcha cookin'?" if you must know. Yes, I say if the aliens want some, we bring it. Bring it hard.

Laser weapons are effective, true, but mighty costly and really only more visually fun to look at, not any strategic value. It is plain to the most uninformed observer, as I have observed, that laser weapons as used by the unidentified aliens, were used to some effect while Columbia was in space to wound the shuttle so mortally it wouldn't survive the return trip. But if these fancy pants think our weapons don't have enough pop to show them a thing or two, let's show them how it's done down here.

Traditional repeating firearms are more than enough for these pricks. Ample streams of gunfire will make our point quite nicely, and the fact you don't see a neon stream of green hurtling toward you gives you, as an alien, less chance to move out of the way. The real cool thing about space, should we engage in orbital dogfights, which I'm excited enough about prospecting to wet myself, is that with no friction in space and very little in the way of safe cover, these bullets will go on until they hit something, somewhere. Aliens can't outrun them! And even if they did, the things would keep coming, slow and steady, like the tortoise following the hare. Only this tortoise turns alien flesh into sloppy joe meat.

It goes without saying, until I say it, our first intentions should be to get on friendly terms with these aliens. No doubt they can help us with their endless advanced technology in areas of space travel and medicine and convincing an entire species to wear the same outfits. And we can help them become more profit-oriented and learn to argue amongst themselves.

But, just to make it clear, don't let them think we're pushovers. A size 10 shoe leaves a mighty big footprint on gray alien ass.

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