Star & Buc Wild: Racist on the Radio

Moorish Girl posts to this item from Turbanhead. Apparently, the wakeup crew at Philadelphia’s Power 99 radio think that it’s absolutely hilarious to call a customer service line outsourced to India and berate an employee with sexist and racist banter.

The MP3 has been removed from the Power 99 site, but, in the event that Turbanhead‘s servers get overloaded on this, I’ve mirrored the file here and I urge anyone who cares to host the file too. For those who can’t play audio at work, here’s a transcript:

NARRATOR INTRO: Wakeup with Star and Buc Wild in the mornings of Power 99 FM.

STAR: I’m going to play this call from earlier before we get out of here. This is the, uh, call that I made to — I thought it was a company here locally. Not that I was surprised.


STAR: I saw this infomercial about, uh, what are these things called again? Oh, the, uh…

FEMALE VOICE: Bead? Oh shoot.

STAR: Anyway, let — let’s just play the call. I was surprised when I got somebody on the line in East India. These little beads that I saw. Little white kids, uh, a little machine that puts them in their hair.


STAR: Play it.

(tape begins)

STEENA: This is Steena. How may I help you?

STAR: Hi, Stain-a, you say?


STAR: (in fake Indian accent) Yeah, I called and I just got hung up on. I’m calling from America about the quick beads for my daughter’s, uh, hair. Quick beads.

STEEA: Okay. May I have your ZIP code please?

STAR: 10274.

STEENA: 10274?

STAR: Yes. Get it right. Now are you in India? Because I just spoke to someone in India who hung up on me.

STEENA: Thank you. I am from India, ma’am.

STAR: Okay. So my call is being outsourced to India.

STEENA: That’s right.

STAR: In… in regards to my six year old, white American daughter who wants to get the quick beads like Serena and Venus Williams.

STEENA: Now. I’ll definitely place an order for that. See…

STAR: What’s that?

STEENA: …in the ad, she called to place a quick bead of counier. To ensure proper handling…

STAR: Ma’am, I don’t know what the hell you’re saying. Hang on a second. Let me try and get something straight here. The quick beads, like Venus and Serena Williams, that to advertise to — to the white kids on television. This call has been outsourced to India?

STEENA: That’s right.

STAR: Well, ma’am, what the eff would you know about an American white girl’s — uh, uh — hair? And quick beads.

STEENA: Just to inform you, ma’am, we’re a national chain services company. And we’re just taking calls on the opposite…

STAR: Listen, bitch! Don’t get slick with the mouth! Don’t you get slick with me, bitch!

STEENA: Now if you continue to speak this language, I will disconnect the call.

STAR: Listen to me, you dirty rat eater. I’ll come out there and choke the eff out of you.


STAR: You’re a filthy rat eater. I’m calling about my American six year old white girl. How dare you outsource my call? Get off the line, bitch!

(laughter; end of tape)

STAR: Pull it up.


STAR: Heard they listen well out there.

* * *

The call letters of Power 99 are WUSL. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise to learn that the station is owned by Clear Channel. In light of the station’s Stop the Violence and Increase the Peace campaign, it might be worth addressing this verbal violence to the WUSL manager and to Clear Channel Corporate. Letters written on actual paper or faxes are the best way to deal with this. Emails can be overlooked, but paper is a physical presence. You can find addresses and fax numbers right here:

Power99 WUSL-FM
440 Domino Lane
Philadelphia, PA 19128
General Business Line: 215-483-8900
Fax: 215-483-5930
Director of Urban Programming/Program Director: Thea Mitchem
Operations Manager: Todd Shannon
General Manager: Dave Allan

Clear Channel Communications
200 Basse Road
San Antonio, TX 78209
Phone: 210-822-2828

Ron has pointed out that DJs Star and Buc Wild have been added to WWPR-FM (Power 105.1) in New York (also a Clear Channel radio station). Clear Channel has apparently invested $17 million to sign Star and Buc Wild to the morning lineup. In addition to WUSL, Star can currently be found on Hartford’s WPHH station.

Star apparently has a history of savage radio behavior. In fact, he prides himself on being “the Hater” and his website notes that “he has the audacity to be unconstrained by neo-conservative intellectual influence.” The exclusive Star interview further notes, “Hate is one of the truest natures of mankind. We’ll always have Hate, even when we branch into outer space and set up new civilizations. To eradicate hate would mean becoming desensitized or emotionless” and then qualifies this statement with a followup, “Does a fat bitch love cheeseburgers? Absolutely.”

When he worked at WQHT, he played plane-crash sound effects when Aaliyah died, complete with a woman screaming, causing his former co-host Miss Jones to walk out. Star has promised to “bury his old station” when he gets to New York (the first show is set for January 17, 2005.

Of course, listeners aren’t really the people who matter in corporate radio. Advertisers do. It might be fruitful for watchdogs in Philadelphia and New York to keep a list of loca and national advertisers that air commercials during Star’s broadcasts on Hartford’s WPHH and Philadelphia’s WUSL. And when Star moves to New York on January 17, maintain the list of advertisers on WWPR.

If we hope to win the war against hate radio, then the time has come to mobilize with diligence and action. And that means paying attention to who pays the bill.

(UPDATE: It’s also worth noting that Star’s real name is Troi Torain. He’s also made anti-Semitic comments. Funny how he’s sensitive when J-Lo uses similar language. Apparently, Torain’s former New York employer Emmis has been trying to block his WWPR gig. Torain was suspended after the Aaliyah incident. The clause in his Emmis contract has kept him off New York radio until this year. That didn’t stop him from ripping about 20 award plagues from WQHT and storming off the office. And there’s more, even a book deal.]

[FURTHER UPDATE: The outcry has resulted in Star & Buc Wild being suspended for a day. Thanks in part to your efforts, Power 99 FM received more email and phone calls in the entire station’s history.

But this is only the beginning of the fight. Since the two DJs have been repeatedly hateful and since the one day suspension amounts to a consolation prize (Star & Buc Wild were moving out of Philly anyway), the DJs will quite possibly settle into the new routine at 105.1 FM in New York. If there are any able listeners in New York willing to keep track of advertisers, now would be the time to mobilize for a future campaign. Because in light of their history of abusive radio, these two will try again. ]

[THIRD UPDATE: Because of the abusive comments (despite my repeated requests), I have closed the comments. I’m appalled by the behavior from some people here. Hate is not the way to respond with hate. I can understand anger, but by drawing generalizations about Africans or Americans, you are giving into the same spiteful tone voiced by Star. And I don’t enjoy my mailbox being pummeled with hatred.]

Afternoon Tea

  • Dean Koontz’s dog has written a book: a chapbook-sized ode to lapping toilet water.
  • An inmate has sued Stephen King for The Green Mile, claiming that there are, in fact, no magical black men inside prison.
  • It’s been reported elsewhere, but Cynthia Ozick’s book tour diary dishes fun dirt.
  • Amber Frey is set to release a memoir this week. Sample chapter titles include “Oh My God! Laci’s baby is due on my birthday!” and “You know, Scott, this murder might affect our relationship.”
  • The Rutles 2 is coming to DVD. Believe it or not, Salman Rushdie is in it.
  • A number of prominent Canadians highlight their top reads for 2004 (including Neil Peart, who champions John Barth’s The Book of Ten Nights and a Night!).
  • The Age does an admirable job trying to account for The Da Vinci Code‘s success.

Someone Needs to Tell Charles Taylor That the Real Enemies Are in Washington, Not Those Who Were Humbled By Pauline Kael

Slate Movie Club: “If we must address the Paulette issue, let me say this about those who make that particular charge: Fuck ’em. Not one of the writers who have done their ‘I Was a Paulette for the FBI’ routine have ever done it without relying on gossip, insinuation, and outright lies to make their case. I never had to pass any test for loyalty to remain her friend. Was never discouraged from saying what I thought, never feared disagreeing with her, which we did often. Doesn’t anybody notice that the anti-Paulettes all claim the alleged Paulettes have no independence but every single one of them talks about how they couldn’t bring themselves to disagree with Pauline? Let me get this straight — I’m supposed to be a camp follower because you didn’t have the stones to stand up for Kramer vs. Kramer? Your therapists get paid to listen to this, boys. Spare the rest of us.”

(via Greencine Daily)

The Erotomaniac

Somewhere between Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past and Fanny Hill is My Secret Life, an eleven volume, one million word memoir written by “Walter.” The entire text has been placed online and is searchable. Other interesting facts: The books were owned by Aleister Crowley, Harold Lloyd, and Josef von Sternberg. “Walter” was, in all likelihood, Henry Spencer Ashbee, who collected thousands of books in a London bachelor pad and left 1,600 volumes of erotica to the British Museum. On the sex and reading front, Ashbee seems to have found the best of both worlds. From Vol. 9, Chapter XIII:

We used at times to lay in bed reading baudy books. Then I would gamahuche her, and she liked the lingual exercise continued almost directly after her spend. A few minutes’ repose only and I’d fuck her, then we’d go on reading. Sometimes she’d read until suddenly she’d frig herself, laying back, grasping my prick hard with one hand, even hurting it sometimes, with eyes closed, more frequently looking me full in the face eyes wide open, with a wonderful voluptuous expression, till her breath shortened, her lovely thighs and belly quivered, then her eye lids drooped till her body was quite tranquil. � Then with the remark, � “We are beasts,” � our reading was resumed.

Related: Odd Books, “a home for the oddball and offbeat in literature,” which includes pages devoted to Frank Harris (another womanizer whose five-volume MY Life and Loves was published with several photographs), forgotten romantic writer Amanda McKittrick Ros (acclaimed by the likes of Twain, Lawrence, Huxley and Powell) and big-time crank Webster Edgerly, whose strange notions on health may have inspired to T.C. Boyle. Edgerly went by the psuedonym of “Dr. Everett Ralston.” By a twist of fate, today (January 4) is Ralston Day!

Hemon Revisited

In arrears with hot potatoes, we had a number of things to say about last year’s Aleksandar Hemon/Operation Homecoming contretemps that had begun at Lizzie’s and GalleyCat’s. But our damn browser crashed and a 1,000 word post was lost into the ether. We’ll only say that, having finally gotten around to reading Hemon, The Question of Bruno is a fantastic achievement and that the NEA’s history of censorship pressured by reactionary forces does back up Hemon’s claims to some extent, even if it fails to account for the strange machinations of government in general. Our basic point was this: The difference between Crouch and Hemon is that the former is a pugilist looking for a fight, while the latter remains an idealist pining for a certain faith in honest government. Is this such a bad thing to argue for in these corrupt times?

Back to the salt mines, where trout are being fished out of agua with stunning alacrity.

Irvine Welsh’s Pride and Prejudice

That Darcy bloke won’t give me a fag. Crusty polite little bugger. Hangs out with Bingley sometimes, but the man needs a drink. Several, in fact. I’d like to see Darcy loosen up a bit, maybe light under the foil and inhale Great God’s fine smoke.

The odd thing is that Darcy’s so polite. He should be some cunt hosting a late night teevee show or cringing at the thought of using a public restroom. I’d like to see that uptight bugger fetch for his suppository.

What kills me is that one of Bingley’s sisters actually fancies him. Wouldn’t stop going on about his penmanship. The prim cunt ignored her.

– You fuckin shite, I said, – how many fuckin birds care enough to fuckin pay attention to your fuckin handwriting? For fuck sake, she gets enough fuckin hell from Elizabeth. Are you fuckin listening?

Darcy said nothing, though he took a liking to Elizabeth. The poor fuck was badly in need of a shagging and could only do so through legitimate marriage.

See, that’s the kind of sad case Darcy was. I’d hoped he’d piss off and find a proper place in the suburbs where he wouldn’t plug a finger up our miserable Scottish arseholes.


Heather Harvrilesky has the perfect response to a passive long-distance relationship:

This is how you find the man/woman of your dreams, stupids: You refuse to waste time on the man/woman of your loneliness-fueled spreadsheets. And if you can’t get worked up over anyone… well, Jesus, what is wrong with you? Can you get worked up over anything at all? Here in LA, lots of people wax romantic about movies, but when it comes to their real lives, they’re fucking numb and alienated and don’t see the raw thrill, the breathtaking drama of every little minute. Blahblahblah boringcakes, motherfuckers! The girl who made you your coffee this morning has beautiful green eyes, and she paints weird portraits of her customers and keeps chocolate and rope stashed in her nightstand and she reads books about gardening and she knows what she wants. You could spend the next two months in bed, honkwinders, getting tied up and eating chocolate and watching old movies in the middle of the night. You could be swooning and sighing and feeling like the world is opening up like a flower. So why are you watching “Survivor” with that guy who bores the shit out of you, and pisses you off, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about how you feel, ever, and mostly just wants you to get to the point and stop crying? Why are you heating up canned soup and wondering about the long-term viability of negotiating a reasonably satisfying coexistence with someone 3,000 miles away?

Guantanamo Bay — An Internment Camp in the Making

It’s bad enough that FBI agents willfully witnessed prisoners being abused at Guantanamo Bay. Because we all know that when you see a human being getting a lit cigarette stuck into his ear, the immediate thing to do is to stand and do nothing while the vultures continue to beat the guy down further. Horrible enough that the suspected “terrorists” held at Guantanamo Bay have little to no evidence and that these people are being denied due process. But even Richard Lugar is against the latest scam to leave suspects there for life, even when there’s nothing to back up the government’s claims. Funny how it comes down to chump changehelping out Sri Lanka while the Defense Department sees no problem blowing $25 million for Camp 6, a prison designed for “more comfort and freedom than they have now.” Spokesman Bryan Whitman said, “This has been evolutionary.” On the contrary. It’s downright recidivist, if you ask me.

Here are some of the highlights:

  • A British detainee was tortured using “strappado.” Strappado was commonly used in Latin American dictatorships and involves hanging a prisoner from the bars by his handcuffs until they cut deeply into his wrists. What was his offense? He was caught reciting the Koran while talking was banned.
  • David Hicks, an Australian citizen was beaten before, during and after interrogations, threatened with firearms and other weapons, and was hit in the face, head, feet, and torso with hands, fists, various objects and rifle butts. Over one eight-hour session, the man was handcuffed and blindfolded and hit randomly with a group of other detainees. Hicks was also offered the services of a prostitute if he agreed to spy on other detainees.
  • Another detainee is on the verge of madness. His physical condition is deteriorating and his father is concerned that he will turn into a cabbage before his appeal goes before the U.S. Supreme Court.
  • Between October and December 2003, FBI reports document that detainees were subjected to sleep deprivation, humiliation, and forced nudity.
  • The FBI memos have been provided by the ACLU.

Beta Testers Wanted

Ladies and gentlemen, our research is done. The writing has begun. Very soon, the beta testing will begin on the next play (tenatively entitled Four Square). This one’s quite different from the last one, inspired very much by Chekhov’s underrated play, Ivanov. If you’re interested in completely decimating theatrical narrative with the most brutal of constructive criticism, feel free to email me at ed @ with your qualifications. I anticipate a release of Version 1.0 around the beginning of February.