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iMac Fired for Controversial CommentsApril 16, 2007 |
New York City, NY Whit Pistol The controversial MacIntosh iMac, whose successful talk radio career had prompted calls for an upgrade to visual media television before controversy caused a premature application error.
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...
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. the commune news has long been under the impression "nappy-headed ho" was a compliment, but we also think anything sounds much better when you say it in a Redd Foxx voice. Correspondent Shabozz Wertham begged us to do this story, always loving it when a wise-ass upper-middle-class computer gets its motherboard handed to it.
 |  April 9, 2007 |
The world’s most wrongfully imprisoned blogger sings his favorite showtunes while besieged by publicity-hungry members of the lesser media.
"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 t...
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. the commune news is not afraid to go to jail for its principles either; no, wait, we’re thinking of the Bahamas—we’d gladly go to the Bahamas to protect our principles, and go again after that. Correspondent Boner Cunningham will never go to the Bahamas to get laid, but we can easily picture that working out more successfully for him in jail. He got a purty mouth.
|  Several Newscasters Fired for Reporting Death of Don Ho  5 Million White House E-Mails Missing, All About Low-Cost Cialis  IRS: Excessively Needy Girlfriends Can't Be Declared "Dependents"  Sanjaya Unites Indian Fans, People Who Hate American Idol |
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 April 16, 2007 I Could Never Audit Your HeartWhat lurks inside the human heart? Even the most fickle of love muscles has moments where it is full of nothing but joy, and I would only seek these moments for us.
I do not believe the heart can be judged when it is not in love. For a heart in love is at its most pure, like a Hershey chocolate bar with absolutely no nuts, no nougat, nothing but the chocolate you want. A heart in love is a heart as it really is. These moments when we're not in love are moments where we are not even truly existing. It is like love is the band we came to see, the big name on the marquee, and every other moment is us sitting in our seats in the dark, or watching Big Country and calling them assholes while we really seek U2. U2 on stage is akin to the love in our hearts, and that is why we are all ...
º Last Column: My Band Alone Can Save Rock 'N' Roll
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What lurks inside the human heart? Even the most fickle of love muscles has moments where it is full of nothing but joy, and I would only seek these moments for us. I do not believe the heart can be judged when it is not in love. For a heart in love is at its most pure, like a Hershey chocolate bar with absolutely no nuts, no nougat, nothing but the chocolate you want. A heart in love is a heart as it really is. These moments when we're not in love are moments where we are not even truly existing. It is like love is the band we came to see, the big name on the marquee, and every other moment is us sitting in our seats in the dark, or watching Big Country and calling them assholes while we really seek U2. U2 on stage is akin to the love in our hearts, and that is why we are all really here. Oh, my Nancy—the Nancy whose heart is mine and no one else's. I am so convinced of our perfect union that I need no proof of our entwined fates. I can see into your heart, and I stare intently at your chest while you try to sleep just in case I could ever do so. But it is in your eyes that I recognize we are the one love either of us will ever have. If your heart were a tax return, I would never audit your heart. Even if some of the math were a little shady and you clearly didn't have 9 dependents like you filled in, I could not bring myself to ask you to bring in your love receipts to my office where I could pore over them and see if everything added up—it doesn't matter. Love has ruined my math skills. The only math that makes sense to me now is 1 + 1 = Us. And even that would not get me through a second grade elementary school. I wish I could be tested on other subjects, for even the most elementary of things I am stupid about since accepting you into my heart. Basic English skills are unwelcome in my mind, phone numbers are quickly forgotten. I have become retarded for love. People should write notes about where I'm going and who I had to see and pin them to my shirt so that I might remain functional in a world where loving you is my only competent skill. I would drink Liquid Plumber right out from under the cabinet, if I momentarily forgot its lethality in the face of your beauty. You would have to rush me to the hospital and get my stomach pumped so I could continue to love you, and in my stomach they might well extract pure love along with the Liquid Plumber, because love is the only thing that fills me. Nancy, why must we ever disagree? You should know when I called the ending to that Reese Witherspoon movie total horseshit that I could never second-guess your opinion. We've already talked about how completely helpless I am, roaming the world like a blithering idiot due to my obsession with you. It is an obsession that everyone would call unhealthy and dangerous if I were not so handsome and you did not return my love even a fraction, which you do. I am incapable of rational action as long as you are alive. Killing you would be the only way to return me to regular intelligence, and I would sooner die than let someone kill you. I love you too much to be intelligent. Allow me to take that I.Q. test as a I offered last night. You will see that you are in love with an unmistakable moron, and that any opinion I ever offer that offends you should count for nothing. Even my opinion on this love is collectively worthless, given I'm two brain cells away from drooling into a bedpan for the rest of my life. I love you that much. At least, that's my perception of it, given my extremely limited capacity. º Last Column: My Band Alone Can Save Rock 'N' Rollº more columns | 
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Milestones1999: Raoul Dunkin's first play, The Touch of Love, is put on in the commune break room by giggling staff reporters who find it unguarded in Dunkin's desk.Now HiringPark Ranger. Duties include curtailing activities of bears, from large-haired picnic-basket stealing fun-lovin' bears to savage, towering vicious grizzly bears. Encountering bears is unlikely within the office, but your presence should finally shut up bear-phobic Ivana Folger-Balzac.Least Effective Protest Signs| 1. | Stop Iraq War and Tooth Decay | | 2. | France is Against It! | | 3. | Smooth Move, Ex-Lax | | 4. | Prevent Tyrannical Military Action and Stop U.S. Globaliz— (see other side) | | 5. | Bush is Just Lame Nirvana Wanna-Be | |
|   Iraq Withdrawal Bill Threatened With White House Vito BY roland mcshyster 4/16/2007 Hola shit, gringos. It’s south- of-the- border Roland McShyster coming to you from our continental neighbors, Mexico. Cancun is all ablaze with its usual brilliance as young people flock by the hundreds to the international Wordloaf festival. That means sharp spelling, wit, and cerveza by the cold cases. Roland McShyster is all over ivy tower intellectual fare like that. But it doesn’t mean I can neglect my movie-reviewing duties, and I don’t have to since directors all send Roland M. their movies on DVD screeners, just hoping for that review blurb that will land the asses in the seats. Watch as I don’t fail to disappoint.
Disturbia
Oh, yeah, let’s kick it cool style with another gripping and gritty story of a real-life rapper who made his way to...
Hola shit, gringos. It’s south- of-the- border Roland McShyster coming to you from our continental neighbors, Mexico. Cancun is all ablaze with its usual brilliance as young people flock by the hundreds to the international Wordloaf festival. That means sharp spelling, wit, and cerveza by the cold cases. Roland McShyster is all over ivy tower intellectual fare like that. But it doesn’t mean I can neglect my movie-reviewing duties, and I don’t have to since directors all send Roland M. their movies on DVD screeners, just hoping for that review blurb that will land the asses in the seats. Watch as I don’t fail to disappoint.
Disturbia
Oh, yeah, let’s kick it cool style with another gripping and gritty story of a real-life rapper who made his way to fame from the streets. Distrubia plays himself, and also wrote the screenplay, and also did the entire soundtrack, and I think he actually slept with all the actresses himself, he’s just that kind of cross-media entertainer. The direction isn’t Jim Sheridan’s Get Rick Or Die Tryin’, but with Disturbia’s ultra-large bloodshot eyes and creepy Fu Manchu, few rappers could match his unsettling physical appearance with the best direction. Dolly Parton rounds out the cast, but not in this film.
The Hoax
When did Hollywood get so brazen? They used to at least put out an actual film, even a crappy one, to get your money. Now in this case they just secured the money to make a movie and split it between the producers and promised not to tell anyone else. Whoever else is in on the joke, they’re not quick to admit it. This film, based on a lie some writer told his mother about a script he wasn’t working on, is the first film shot entirely on no kind of film stock. It doesn’t exist, it doesn’t have a cast, nor does it have a director, and the plot is pretty threadbare, too. Most people who go to see it will probably be a little surprised when they sit in a theater for 2 hours waiting for a movie that never starts, but maybe they’ll be good sports about it. I was, even though I only received a DVD screener with pure static on it, not quite the same as spending $45 or however much a movie costs non-reviewer people. Truth-in-advertising laws forced them to title it thusly, but don’t expect that big fucking clue to keep people out of the theater. They mostly go just for a dark place to feel up their girlfriends or boyfriends, and this movie adequately fills the bill.
Perfect Stranger
I have to admit I was real excited for Bronson Pinchot’s big-screen return, and seeing the much-beloved character Balki one more. It turned out to be a hideous letdown. Pinchot hasn’t aged well, and I think they even had a stunt double doing the world-famous "Dance of Joy" in those scenes. I was heartbroken, after years of waiting to see the story of a sheep-loving immigrant who is stunned by American culture, a project so ripe for the bigscreen. Who would have believed last year’s documentary Borta would have so excellently told the same story? It certainly didn’t help that Cousin Larry held out for serious payola. Too many ingredients were missing, and too long had passed since Balki’s last visit. The magic has gone.
Are We Done, Yeti?
Now here’s a movie the guys can enjoy. Ice Cube, in quite convincing make-up, plays a Yeti with a taste for human blood. He befriends Ice T only so he can take him up to a secluded wooded area and hunt him for sport, but T is too smart for that, yo. We learn of Ice Cube’s real motivations in the opening sequences, when he hunts down rapper/actor Ice Box and carves him into a frozen treat. But things are different for Ice T, who hooks up with the only hunted game to ever escape the Yeti, Ice Pick. Together the two, with a little help from hitchhiker Ice Storm, turn the tables and make the Yeti their bitch. Oh, it is on!
Speaking of getting it on, I think they’re doing Scrabble shots down in the lounge, so I’m checking out of my bungalow for the rich intellectual nightlife of Cancun. Keep it reel, folks—no, that wasn’t a misspelling, it was a play on the terms real and reel.   |
