December 23, 2005

TWAS THE FRIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
As Told To Inclement Cash Flow Moore

Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the town
You could hear the nerves twitching, who next would go down?
Some studios hung, others hung by a hair,
In hopes a new business model soon would be there.

The film chiefs once nestled all smug in their beds,
While visions of synergy danced in their heads.
Now jobs decommissioned, and faces now slapped,
They'd not figured out how to sell all their crap.

When out in the press there arose such a clatter,
We sprang up to hear from the class that did chatter.
Away to the Windows we flew like a flash,
On each newsy outlet, they were counting the cash.

The moon on the crest of the new-fallen Dream
Was alleged proof that we needed new schemes.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a two inch iPod, and a home the-a-teer.

With a brand new young driver, so lively and quick,
You knew Disney's Iger would fall for this schtick.
More rapid than eagles his initiatives came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now iPod! now, Tivo! now, Theater Sell-Thru!
On, De-mand! P-S-P!, We'll market once to you!
To the top of the charts! To the top of the mall!
Now sell your shit! Sell your shit! Sell your shit all!"

As dry leaves that fly in wild hurricanes high,
When they meet with an obstacle, ideas they will fly.
So over the deep end the industry flew,
With the box office sliding, and DVD too.

And then, in the paper, I saw the new truth
All parsing and clawing, no asking for proof.
As I shook my old head, and was turning around,
Down the industry thudded and clanked with a bound.

They were shortening windows, give an inch, take a foot,
And the opening weekend nearly doubled the loot.
A big pile of cash signaled movies were back,
And the theater peddlers, sold D-V-Ds like crack.

The eyes-how they twinkled! The dimples how merry!
They thrived on these numbers, like young actress cherry!
Their mouths were all drooling, "We could sell Clara Bow,"
And the avarice blossomed, but that you must know.

For two years they held numbers tight in their teeth,
And the smoke from their butts floated round like a wreath.
Then the numbers stalled out more like jam than like jelly,
As the novelty cracked, those great numbers, they fell-y!

They were chubby and plump, a right happy old group,
And they shrugged when you mentioned, they were still selling poop!
A wink of their eye and a twist of their head,
Soon gave me to know there was lots more to dread.

They spoke not a word, when fired from work,
The theaters shut down, had to find a new quirk.
And selling DVDs on the side of the road,
For 20 a dozen, the cash didn't flow!

I suddenly woke up, when Santa did whistle,
He was as real to me as this dreamed day/date epistle.
And I heard him explain, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, seein' a movie tonight!"

E-ME.