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.

ike Nelson Mandela… like Rubin "Hurricane" Carter… like my cousin Nick who didn’t even know that somebody put that gun under his seat, professional blogger/journalist, or boggelist, as I just now coined, Josh Wolfe was held prisoner for his principles for a brutal and unforgiving 7½ months. It may not be 27 years, but how many years have you served for something you believed in, hotshot? And now that he’s a free man again, for skirting those principles just a bit, boggelist Wolfe has fought back the only way his small, spindly body knows how—a take-no-prisoners blog update.

"Prison is total crap," grumbled Wolfe, "they always tell you what to do and they never let you out. I don’t know who came up with the idea of prisons, but they… that guy just needs to be shot. Or sent to prison. Ooo, yeah, that would be ironic."

The serious burn was posted in Wolfe’s customary video format, saving the need for a spell-check, Saturday following his April 3 release from a federal prison in Dublin, California. Wolfe had been held since last August when he refused to turn over a video demanded by law enforcement they claimed might show participants in an arson attempt on a police car and a the injury of a San Francisco police officer. Tricky dick federal prosecutors got around pesky California shield laws which protect reporters, thereby denying the risky venture of having bloggers challenge they deserved protection as journalists, by claiming federal funds that bought the police car made it a federal case.

"That’s bullshit," countered Wolfe in his hot-to-the-web response. "If I give you Phish concert tickets, and you go there and get your ass kicked by a big dude for singing along during a serious jam, I don’t get to go down and sue the big dude or press criminal charges. Especially not if there’s shield laws that protect big dudes from being prosecuted for kicking ass when a guy ruins a concert. I mean, think about it—makes no sense."

Wolfe was released early from his sentence following a deal with prosecutors. The boggelist, who went to jail for refusing to turn over the video tape, turned over the video tape. In exchange, he didn’t have to go back to jail, an agreement Wolfe called "a sweet deal" for himself.

In addition, Wolfe was freed from testifying as to the contents of the video. Early testimony not released to law enforcement allegedly included such descriptions as, "That’s a guy really flipping out ’cause the cops are coming," and, "Oh, check this guy. What a prick." Apparently prosecutors decided they could do without Wolfe going on record.

Wolfe came to the attention of federal authorities when his video aired on local news, but the boggelist stood by his convictions by refusing to allow outtakes from the video to air. According to Wolfe, the outtakes were mostly when vengeful rioters protesting the G8 summit and calling for anarchy kept bursting into laughter when a few of them mispronounced the word as "annanarchy."

"Getting out of jail for giving them the video I refused to give them seven months earlier has allowed me to strike a blow for justice," Wolfe concluded in his "fuck you" to the system. "Let this stand as evidence that bloggers are as dedicated to protecting their sources as any other print or media journalist. Also, the arresting officer was a total douchebag, so I really couldn’t give up the tape until I heard they totally canned that guy’s ass."

Despite pressing pleas from commune reporters, Wolfe refused to embrace the word boggelist, so we exacted our revenge by misspelling in this article.

Like many children, I was once a young boy. And as a lad, before I could even speak the language, I held a precious dream in my heart like a butterfly. A butterfly that wiggled and squirmed and eventually burst from my chest like an alien, but this one left behind no gaping bloody hole, at least none that was visible. For like many children, I had dreams of one day growing up and capturing a mythical beast to prove it existed.

My father would tell me, "Set more realistic goals for yourself, Mr. Bagel." Although now that I think about it, that doesn't sound like something my father would say at all, and there is the distinct trace of an accent when I hear it my mind, so it may have been a butler I had or an English tourist. But someone said it, and I would grow disheartened, before I remembered that only I could let the butterfly rip through my chest and leave myself bleeding to death on the floor.

During my teen-age years, my "Reckless Red" days, I let go of that dream and sunk into the hopeless despair only fit for songs by The Smiths. It's in the nature of a teen-ager to turn cynical, like the very butterfly I earlier metaphored sprouting its wings as part of its growth. However, I tricked fate, and as I got older I grew far more immature than even I could have imagined. I resumed my dreams, and it was like I had never stopped believing I could lasso the Loch Ness Monster or trap Bigfoot in a box with a carrot as bait. Of course, doing either one of those would have been silly. But last year, while the commune took that long sabbatical I didn't really know about, I took to New Orleans to pursue my dream. And the world's biggest butterfly.

I speak of none other than the Baton Rouge Butterfly, one of the most famous local legends of all time. Though no one in New Orleans or Baton Rouge had ever heard of it, so don't bother asking any of them. This local legend about Louisiana is only famous in part of New Jersey and, I understand, some areas in Europe. I uncovered a book on it at a yard sale, only partially colored by the previous owner, that sparked my childhood interest in the legend and I assembled my mythic creature-hunting team of old with renewed vigor.

Loading my equipment into my customized Hummer XXL, a vehicle unfit for travel on earth roads, I traveled south to that beloved region with my loyal manservant Rascal and my faithful friend of many years, Sully. It seems like only yesterday the news just wouldn't shut up about Hurricane Katrina, yet when we reached these battered shores the whole region appeared to be in the midst of wonderful reconstruction. I'm sure the several buildings my Hummer XXL knocked over or crushed were helpful losses to paving over the city of old, they didn't look very new at all. We researched the existence of the Baton Rouge Butterfly in New Orleans, since I was much more familiar with that city and its many fine houses for gentleman tourists, but I have to admit we knew a lot more about the legend than any of them did. They mocked our faith in the unproven and a few of them made fun of my fine white suit. But were we dissuaded? Sully was, and he napped in the passenger seat for most of the trip. I was not, and nor was Rascal,as I pay him handsomely.

We surveyed the entire city of Baton Rouge and its surrounding areas, the world's largest moth net in tow. Did we find the creature of my youthful dreams? No. Did we discover even minimal proof of its existence? That's difficult to say, but everybody says no. Let's change that question however: Did we chase a dream and discover something even bigger than ourselves in the process? No. However, I think I can dare to say we displayed uncommon faith in the unseen and changed the hearts of the people of Louisiana, even helping the rebirth of the cities damaged by the hurricane. They would also say this is a big negative, too, but they can shut-up and stop pissing on my dreams.

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