Don Imus was controversial, complicated and yes, comical

Those of us in the public eye — local, regional or national — should take long and serious pause from not merely reading, but completely absorbing, the national obituary written about Don Imus, a man who only made many of us laugh every day.

Based on the Associated Press obit, published here in The Day and across the country, you are not allowed to say anything regrettable — even dumb — in this world of sacrosanct political correctness, lest your mistake become your legacy.

Imus' obit was infuriatingly negative, centered around a disturbing comment he made about the Rutgers' women's basketball team some years ago. Imus made a career of pushing envelopes until he went too far. But the idea that his comment — grievous as it was — somehow defined a career that was otherwise dotted with unmatched humor and brilliance, is not the "fair and balanced" thing for which we strive here in the old fourth estate.

Imus' obit was neither fair nor balanced. But it sure reflected life's rhythms here in the roaring 2000s, especially for public figures: Your life's narrative won't be about your good work. People will be too afraid to tell it, in fear they'll be branded as heathens as well.

Know what? Call me whatever you'd like. My conscience is clear. I'm proud to say I listened to Imus In The Morning every day for many years. It made me laugh. Faithfully. That counts, you know.

We begin here: There would be no

WFAN radio without him. The FAN has shaped and framed many sports opinions around here for the last 30 years. Wax poetic all you want about Mike and the Mad Dog. They'd never have existed if it weren't for the man in the morning, who earned exponential advertising revenue that kept the rest of the station afloat. And later thriving. Mike Francesa and Chris Russo admitted that on the air many times. Friends of mine at the FAN have said the same thing privately.

Imus launched careers and livelihoods. Given that the FAN was the pioneer of sports talk radio, he was the unwitting patriarch of an entire industry. And yet his greatest mistake was mentioned — and reiterated in his obit — before his greatest achievements. Is that fair and balanced? I still quote Imus to this day. Nobody ever made me laugh more. There was Geraldo Santana Banana. Richard Nixon. Blind Mississippi White Boy Pig Feets Dupree. The Reverend Billy Sol Hargis. Sen. Edward Kennedy. Rush Limbaugh. Mike

Breen continuuuuuuues.

Rob Bartlett would do an impersonation of Howard Stern that was brilliantly satirical. He'd call Imus and go, "hi, it's Howard" in a nasal voice and then begin swearing indiscriminately. And there was nothing on this planet funnier than Cardinal O'Connor giving the lottery numbers. I would stay in the car for ridiculous time intervals waiting for it.

Imus was even responsible for my first fender bender. I was driving down Route 9 near Old Saybrook when a caller told a joke on the air. I can't write it here, but the punchline featured the term, "acute angina." I laughed so hard I started wheezing. That's about when my car scraped the guardrail. (True story.)

I had Imus on every day at my first job at Shore Line Newspapers in Guilford. One day, I heard a clip of the old Meow Mix commercial where the cat keeps singing "meow-meow-meow-meow" incessantly. The next sound you heard was gunfire aimed at the cat. Co-workers had to check on me in my little cubicle because I was snorting. I'm sorry. But Imus was a legend. The power in making someone laugh is one thing. But to do it for a generation every day is a gift. And to me, that's his legacy.

He was controversial and complicated. He had demons. It's all part of his story. Yet his entire contribution was framed around one regrettable line.

That's not how I choose to remember him. Still, Imus' obit should teach us in any variation of the public eye a grave lesson. Sad but true.