Exclusivity is a shifting, ephemeral thing — especially when it comes to labels. For example, thanks to the aggressive use of the term by various interest parties, it seems that anybody can be a pirate. That guy in the mail room? Potential pirate. The lady in front of you at the check-out at the Tom Thumb? Hmm, could be a pirate. Anyone under the age of 50 with ear-buds jammed into their skulls? Definitely a pirate. The term has completely lost all of the romantic cachet it might have once had. Think of that golden era, now lost in the misty wasteland of history. Ah yes, the 1980′s…

What? Of course the 1980′s was the golden age of piracy! Others might be attracted by the Hollywood whitewashing of the 18th century, and its carefree depictions of high-seas adventure and the illicit allure of Port Royale, but not us. And if the RIAA can whip the word “pirate” back and forth hard enough to break its neck, well, so can we! The 1980′s stands as the pinnacle of piracy — of a very specific, very important kind. We’re talking about broadcast buccaneers, microwave marauders; we’re talking about signal pirates. There was Captain Midnight, of course. But that was nothing — nothing — compared to the infamous, mysterious, and utterly inexplicable Max Headroom pirate.

Oh, you have got to see the video of this one. It’s grainy, it’s got terrible audio, and it’s about the most nonsensical thing broadcast since they invented Larry King Live. An excerpt from Wikipedia:

The Max Headroom pirating incident was a television signal hijacking in Chicago, Illinois on the evening of November 22, 1987; it is an example of what is known in the television business as broadcast signal intrusion. The hijacker was successful in interrupting two television stations within three hours. Neither the hijacker nor his accomplices have ever been found or identified.

So what’s the big deal about some freak with a Max Headroom mask breaking on to the airwaves? Again, from Wikipedia: “There has not been a verified broadcast intrusion incident of this kind in America since [...]” For sheer novelty alone, this has to rank pretty high in the pantheon of weird television moments. (We mean, forget staged garbage like that fight-sketch on Friday’s, or the occasional bout of live-TV profanity — this thing knocks all of that into cocked hat.)

We really can’t believe that this guy or his pals haven’t owned up yet. Aside from the fact that, though we weren’t able to verify this, the statute of limitations must have run out by now, this is possibly the greatest prank ever pulled. At the very least, it’s a technical achievement, how ever dubious its execution might have been. You’d think that whomever was responsible would want a little credit for his work.

There isn’t much we can deduce about this pirate from his broadcast. We know that he was probably white, probably male, and either possessed or knew somebody with a great deal of knowledge with regard to the television broadcasting technology of his day. We know that the broadcast was not live, as there was an obvious “cut”, when the video transitions from his monologue to the infamous fly-swatter-spanking scene. (If you haven’t watched the video yet, really, go do it now. And please agree with us a that this is the scariest transition ever committed to video tape.) We know that the person — or persons — involved had access to some pretty expensive, sophisticated equipment. One wonders if at least some of the people involved were actually employed by a local broadcaster.

We can also deduce a few things from the actual videotaped antics of the faux-Max Headroom. For example, although the clip was obviously pre-recorded, it doesn’t seem that any kind of script had been prepared. Much of the incoherence might be due to the poor audio quality, but what commentary that is understandable is pretty non-sensical. It seems almost unimaginable that someone could go to all the trouble to hijack a signal and then say practically nothing. In spite of all the anti-WGN rhetoric, it seems that the main motivation behind the prank was simply to cause a little chaos.

So what have we got? A broadcast-industry drone with at least one friend, a juvenile sense of humor, anarchist sensibilities, and brass fucking balls. Maybe.

We know who Deep Throat and the Mona Lisa are — it’s crazy that we don’t know the real story behind the Max Headroom pirate. Please, if you’re out there and you have any as-yet unrevealed information about the greatest prank ever, please contact a reputable journalist near you.