Don Imus is dead, and I have nothing good to say about him. They will cite his charity work as evidence that he was a good person, but, remember. Charities are hella good tax dodges when you work in the media and make millions.
Imus was a howling, hateful bag of irascible shit, poured through a cheap trucker hat and cut with trucker speed found in a bottle of urine. His outsized political influence gave corrupt Republicans a platform that they used to advance their soul-sucking agenda. He employed racists and nincompoops interchangeably. He used every ounce of influence he had to advance his own interests to the detriment of everyone else so, as far as 20th Century shock jocks go, he was just south of Glenn Beck and well north of whatever dickhead terrorized your mid-sized city until someone figured out how to make money off of a satellite program. He was unemployable for much of his career, and lived in the shadow of better broadcasters. He made people appreciate Howard Stern, for God's sake.
The legacy of Don Imus is this: he made one of a slew of racist jokes that punched down at the Rutgers University women's basketball team and ended up giving us Morning Joe with Joe Scarborough. For that, the devil himself has taken Imus into his bosom and given him a pitchfork and a flaming butt plug.
This is a better world now. Fuck him, fuck his anti-vaccine advocating wife, fuck his legacy. He traded on the need to punch down and kiss ass and tried to make it look like he was doing the opposite.