Meanwhile, the broader savaging of Imus seems disproportionate to the crime. There is in the air the unmistakable scent of schadenfreude -- pleasure in someone else's misery -- as some in the media have turned on the radio jock like pack wolves on a wounded puppy.

Otherwise, his takedown feels like hecklers gone wild. When the star is down, the heckler gets to be the star. Celebrity comes to the one with the loudest voice, the meanest jibe or, in this case, the pithiest piety.

In such an environment, punishment doesn't have to be equal to the sin; it has to be equal to the sinner. Because Imus is rich and powerful, the only appropriate punishment is death by a million apologies.

Followed by forced retirement.

Context has been ignored, meanwhile, by all but Imus' oldest friends. Imus has said a few dumb things in a decades-long career -- as have we all -- but he also has raised many millions for charities.

Otherwise, his show is entertaining and informative, thanks to the many national politicians who show up. Yes, it's a little clubby at times, mutually admiring and self-absorbed, but those characteristics also create a sense of relaxed intimacy that is part of the show's attraction.

Whatever his flaws -- and however careless his recent blurt -- Imus deserves a shot at resurrection.

He has promised to make a better show and to become an even better person. If that means no more racist jokes, the world will be better. It would be a waste, however, to banish a reformed Imus from the airwaves -- especially if an example of redemption and rehabilitation is what we seek.

But sainthood -- please -- is not required. In fact, a St. Imus would be a suicide bomb for sure.