Let's talk about replacing GWBush in 2004.

Politics has gotten so stoopid, so nasty, so expensive.........

Sept. 29, 2003 | ROCHESTER, N.Y. (AP) -- A radio talk-show host was fired Monday for an on-air racial slur against the city's black mayor.

Bob Lonsberry had apologized Thursday and agreed to undergo diversity training and remain off the air indefinitely. But he lost his job after attacking critics in a Web column Monday, saying the "liberal and afraid ... seek to dominate society through threat and intimidation."

WHAM radio said in a statement Monday that "although Mr. Lonsberry expressed a willingness to change, it became obvious to us that he is not embracing diversity."

Lonsberry, 44, has persistently baited Mayor William Johnson Jr., a Democrat running for Monroe County executive in the November election.

Last month, Lonsberry joked with listeners about an orangutan that briefly escaped a zoo, then commented that the animal was now running for county executive. He made a similar reference again last week as monkey sounds were aired in the background.

While Lonsberry, who is white and Republican, never mentioned the three-term mayor by name, Johnson said he believed Lonsberry deliberately injected race into the campaign.

Lonsberry worked nine years at WHAM, which is owned by Clear Channel Communications of San Antonio, Texas.

Today's Column - 9/30/2003:

MY 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN THE NEWS BUSINESS

Twenty years ago this week, in the newsroom of a tiny afternoon paper in the backwoods of New York, a crusty guy named Roger gave me a notepad and told me to get to work.

That's how it started.

Yesterday, from the safety of a speaker phone, two cogs in a corporate wheel told me I was fired.

That's how it ended.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, score one for the other team.

For 20 years I've spoken to an audience. For 20 years I've never been out of work a day. For 20 years I thought doing a good job would stand me in good stead.

I thought that satisfying readers, viewers and listeners counted for something. I thought that attracting an audience, bringing customers to my employer, was what the job was all about.

But I thought wrong.

And now I don't know what to think.

And I don't know how to pay the bills.

And I don't know what comes next.

But I did my duty. And I did my best. And I did it honorably. And I walk out the door with my head high and my conscience clear.

My only regret is to the listeners who will feel as if I have abandoned them. I would never do that willfully, and I do it now mournfully. I have been sustained by the friendship of the airwaves, the reciprocal relationship that truly is radio. It has brought me joy and purpose. I will miss every listener intensely and painfully.

It pains me to have let down people in two cities, on two shows. It will break my heart to lose intimate contact with the communities and peoples in those two audiences.

I had planned to retire in two or three decades, still doing the midday show in Rochester and the morning show in Salt Lake.

It is a painful leave-taking.

In a week I've gone from being the busiest radio broadcaster in the country to the most idle. I guess I've stopped being a broadcaster.

But I figured all along they were going to fire me. They said otherwise, but they didn't act otherwise. I think they fired me by inches, by little bits over a week. But that's their right. It's their radio company, not mine.

I think with mounting criticism in Congress over giant radio companies, the biggest of them all - my former employer -- didn't want any brush fires anywhere. So I think some suit on the other end of a conference call made a decision. I don't have anything against radio consolidation, but it will make it hard for me to get more work. I lost jobs at two radio stations, but will be black balled at more than 1,000 others, and in the nation's largest syndication company.

And I'm not sure where that leaves me.

Can I get on a ballot to run for office in a month? Will a station across town - in Utah or New York - offer me a job? Will I get a severance package and sit back and write a book for a couple of months? Will I have to drive two hours to take a reporter job? Will I be selling shoes and books at the mall by the weekend?

I don't know.

But my cash flow is gone and I've got four kids to feed. So I'll have to find something quick.

Hopefully I'll be back.

But even if I'm not, I'll count myself among the luckiest of men. I've had a great ride, and been truly blessed.

Christmas Eves with my children on the air, singing songs and reading stories and talking to friends we've never met. The horrid morning of September 11 and anchoring through the chaos a monologue of what had occurred. Times when people laughed and times when people cried. Walking 10 miles in a blizzard to get to the station. Broadcasting overnight for an ice storm or a power outage, sleeping more times than I can count on the floor in the studio.

But I did my duty. And I did my best. And I did it honorably. And I walk out the door with my head high and my conscience clear.

And with two words: Thank you.

For the privilege, for the support, for the audience.

For the priceless bond the people on the conference call will never know. For the grand trick I got away with for most of a decade.

Because the radio show was a means to an end. A platform to call it the way I saw it. A chance to whisper, between the jokes and the cackle, the truth as I understand it. To testify and empty my heart. To make a difference.

It used to be, when I was a younger man, I had to go knocking on doors to preach the gospel. I found a radio show, as it turned out, to be far more efficient. The message wasn't as pure, but it was heard by more, and I hope it did some good.

I'm pretty sure it did some good.

And I'm pretty sure that's why they stopped it.

But I've got a hunch the game's not over yet.

I've got a hunch I'm not over yet.
http://www.lonsberry.com/