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Politics : Ask Michael Burke -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Knighty Tin who wrote (107411)	4/11/2007 6:28:56 PM
From: Pogeu Mahone	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 132070

Mike I know. Did it makes things better or worse? I am sure these attitudes do not help. When i was growing up every bar in Boston ,was collecting money for the IRA. All the Irish cops were glad to raise at much as they could for the Cause. I am glad that is over. I am also glad IMUS advertizers are pulling out. This certainly is not premature. Here is how Imus allways acted: Imus’ demise no surprise By Howie Carr Boston Herald Columnist Wednesday, April 11, 2007 - Updated: 04:10 AM EST Hey, Don Imus, when are you going to apologize to my wife for the terrible things you said about her? Listen, you no-talent geriatric cokehead, I don’t care if you do look like a corpse in a cowboy hat. Back in 1998, you libeled my wife when you said you would live long enough to “see Riddick Bowe stick his” - well, I’ll leave it at that, although you didn’t, and at the end of your demented screed, you added, “again.” Imus AP video: Rutgers Team to Meet With Imus AP Video: Imus suspended for racial remarks That was the word that would have made it a slam-dunk in court - “again.” The case was settled, though, and under the terms of the settlement, I’m not allowed to reveal what happened. But let me just say I always shake her lawyer’s hand very heartily whenever I run into him. Alan Dershowitz is aces in my book. What led to that misogynistic outburst by Imus was that a local columnist had told him that I had said he would die before his kid got out of high school. The fact that the guy who told this to the I-Man had just been forced to quit his paper for writing “fables” apparently didn’t register. I never said anything like that, but the I-Man didn’t bother to check before he went off on my wife. And now she owns a condo in Florida. Is this a great country or what? As for Imus, you can stick a fork in him, because he’s done. As somebody said yesterday, the only thing left for him to do is gasp, “Rosebud!” But what’s most entertaining about his all-too-predictable demise is that so many people are pretending to be surprised. Imus is to radio what Robert Byrd is to the Senate - a doddering, turkey-necked relic of Jim Crow past. After this latest outburst, his Boston affiliate may have to add one more call letter - WTKKK. Forget the St. Patrick’s Day breakfast. Next year they can burn a cross on the Common. Imus says he’s a “good person.” So let’s go right to the “60 Minutes” interview. Mike Wallace: “You told Tom Anderson, the producer, in your car coming home that Bernard McGuirk is there to do (n-word) jokes.” First Imus denied it, but when Anderson confronted him, he copped to it. “Oh, OK,” Imus said, “Well then I used that word, but I mean - of course that was an off-the-record conversation.” Don’t feel sorry for Imus just because he’s pushing 70, or because with Al Sharpton he looked and sounded like Grandpa on “Hee Haw.” For once The New York Times [NYT] got it exactly right. Don Imus is “the lawn jockey of the American establishment.” Until this latest racial slur of the Rutgers women’s basketball team, most people didn’t even know Imus was still alive. He fried his brain a long time ago - yesterday, on the “Today” show, he referred to Sharpton as “Rev. Hargis.” The Rev. Billy Sol Hargis - one of Imus’ few funny creations - was invented back around, oh, 1976. Then Imus burned out all his synapses with booze and drugs. You’d think coming back the way he did from cocaine would have made him a better person, instead of the arrogant . . . lawn jockey that he is, a lapdog for the worst of the Good Old Boys in politics and the media. Here’s another dirty little secret. Nobody’s been listening to him for years now. He never brags about his radio ratings anymore, because he doesn’t have any. Yesterday, my wife and I couldn’t stop laughing as he continued his crack-up on network TV. It was like watching a gaffed fish, flopping and squirming around on a wet deck as the crew closes in with bats to put him out of his misery. I have a ranch, he kept saying, in so many words. I even allow black children to visit. Some of my best friends . . . “Do you think,” my wife said, “we should have held out for more?”