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ANTIQUES ROADSHOW The golden oldies of broadcasting

But it was no accident that it was Imus, rather than one of his competitors, who fell into this trap. The other shock jocks out there don't look like the Old Man of the Mountain. They don't have rat's nest eyebrows and children who are old enough to host their own radio programs. Howard Stern, a veritable elder statesman of the genre at 53, rose to national fame in his early 30s; the same was true for Gregg "Opie" Hughes and Anthony Cumia. At 44 and 45, they're not kids anymore, but they're tuned in enough to know that what a black person might be able to get away with saying about other black people will sound less than high-larious coming from an elderly white rancher in a cowboy hat.

If Imus doesn't stand out more, it's because the broadcasting business is crawling with geriatrics who remain on the air embarrassing their viewers and themselves long after their sell-by dates have passedWith his feathered glam-rock hair and acid-wash jackets, Imus may be fooling himself into thinking he's still young enough to carry off a mid-life crisis, but we should know better. If he doesn't stand out more, it's because the broadcasting business is crawling with geriatrics who remain on the air embarrassing their viewers and themselves long after their sell-by dates have passed. At 88, Andy Rooney is still a regular on 60 Minutes, grousing about those pesky female sports reporters and other absurdities of modern life (computers—who needs 'em?!). But at least Rooney's is an honest perspective. Larry King and Barbara Walters, on the other hand, avoid fogeyism by withholding judgment and reflecting back (albeit in a wrinkly mirror) all that is most worthless and vapid in American culture. Alleged diaper-wearer King recently admitted that only the onset of senile dementia could convince him to retire; he failed to explain how anyone will be able to tell the difference. As for Walters, her gauzy obsession with celebrity love lives is downright icky for a woman born in 1929.

Then there's Dan Rather, whose career-ending humiliation serves as a cautionary tale, proving that he who refuses to exit gracefully is bound to go out disgracefully. Perhaps if Rather hadn't been so desperate to demonstrate his vigor, he could have taken more time to train his bifocals on those bogus National Guard documents.

In the print media, it's an article of faith that the composition of a publication's staff should mirror the demographics of its intended audience. Everyone understands that if you want to reach readers in their 20s and 30s, you have to hire writers and editors in that age group—even if that means journalists over 50 have to sweat job security. Yet obsessed as TV news executives are with hitting the demo—viewers 22 to 54—they just can't bring themselves to give up the superannuated talents in whose brands they've invested so many years and dollars and who continue to attract large numbers of loyal, if equally desiccated, viewers.

Don Imus isn't too old to talk about politics or serious books, or to read the weather. But he's probably too old to be talking, with any credibility, about most of what passes for pop culture these days, or even, apparently, sports. And he's definitely too old to be trying to mimic the speech patterns of kids who grew up watching MTV. It would be nice if, after three decades on the air, Imus stopped impersonating an arrested adolescent and started acting his age. It would be nicer if he skipped the inevitable comeback attempt and put himself out to pasture. Maybe he could even find some acreage on that sprawling ranch for all the other over-the-hill talking heads, and save them the humiliation of growing obsolete in public.


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