Ting-ting-ting. Every day, news stories about Philadelphia's WiFi arrive in my inbox. Mayor Street's 2004 vow to bring broadband to everyone continues to echo around the world. From Singapore to Sydney, it's been two years of good publicity unparalleled in the city's recent history—sports teams included.

But if Street and council don't get busy, this city's WiFi publicity boom will go bust. The mayor's declaration of digital independence is beginning to ring hollow as the clock ticks on.

The contracts have been signed, and neighborhoods could be going online, were it not for a few dim bulbs in City Hall. What's left is for City Council to give permission to EarthLink to hang transmitters on city streetlights. If they do it now, we'll enjoy the fruits of being first; keep stalling and Philadelphia will move from innovator to also-ran.

Late last year, council cross-examined Dianah Neff, the architect of the city's plans. "Who's going to pay for this? Would taxpayers have to pay the bill if it fails?" they asked, exhuming again the objections that Frank Rizzo broadcast last year in newspapers from Texas to Chicago.

So here it is, one more time, straight from Neff: The WiFi project will not even appear on the city's books, except for rent that the city will receive from EarthLink to use our light poles. And if Philly's WiFi fails financially, taxpayers will owe nothing.

According to news sources, council was going to authorize WiFi in late January. But Council President Anna Verna's office says there's nothing about WiFi on their agenda. No hearings. No votes. Nothing. So where is the WiFi bill now? Verna's spokesperson says the legislation is languishing in the mayor's office. What it's doing there is open to speculation. A side deal with naysayers, perhaps? The mayor's office—quelle surprise!—was unable to comment before deadline.

Meantime, though Rizzo's reputation as a corporate toady remains intact, the councilman's standing as Internet visionary has failed to impress other cities. Because as Philly dithers, big cities like Houston, Boston and Chicago have announced plans to build their own WiFi systems. Ting-ting-ting come the e-mails announcing that other cities are moving ahead, while Philly's dreams languish.

Black Hate Radio: Blame Sponsors, Stockholders

Power 99's top-rated Star & Buc Wild morning show continues to pour out the hate—despite Damon Roberts and his group's efforts to stem this abuse of black people. When East Indians protested last year being called "rat-eaters" on air, the program's host, Troi Torain, backed off bashing Indians. A contrite Power 99 even pulled the show for a day. But the nigger-ho-bitch, gun-toting, self-loathing of this modern minstrel show continues still.

Though Roberts says that he and his group of black professionals are taking a suggestion I offered in my column. On March 1 from 7:30 to 9 a.m., Roberts is inviting adults and students at a nearby school to show up at the station armed with protest signs that blast the show's advertisers for sponsoring hate.

And if the media has any guts they'll cover Roberts' protest that bashes name-brand corporations like Pier One, Burger King and Toys R Us.

It's a start. But protests alone won't work.

Torain will continue to spew bile until Power 99's owner, Clear Channel, gets wounded in the pocketbook. Not just by shaming advertisers, but by slamming Clear Channel's stock.

In New York City, groups like Roberts' are asking their city council to condemn black hate radio. Philadelphia should do even better. When South Africa practiced apartheid, Philadelphia and its various pension funds divested themselves of corporations that exploited blacks there. We should do no less in defense of our own people now.

Troi Torain is worse than a shock jock with a hard-on for hate. His advice "to get a gun" to neighborhoods already drenched in murder is in some ways even more destructive than screaming fire in a crowded theater. Torain's hate is an incitement to violence.

Clear Channel stock is so widely held that chances are it's in your personal retirement account. If Philadelphia—if we all—pulled Clear Channel from our portfolios, the hate would stop. It worked in South Africa. It could work here.