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December 24, 2008

'Twas The Night... Hollywood 2008

'TWAS THE INDICTMENT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
As Told To Inclement Bernie Madoff

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the town
Not a creature was comfy, even Will Smith was down;
The movies were sold with the studios’ care,
In hopes that more money soon would be there;
The execs were nestled all smug in their beds,
While visions of internets danced in their heads;
And The Dark Knight in Blu-ray, and Mamma Mia!’s sap,
Had just been released to end DVD’s nap,
From defaulting loans there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the sleep to see what was the matter.

Away to the iPhone they flew like a flash,
Tore open the 3G and threw up the apps.

The bankruptcy pleas of the new-fallen co-s
Brought the fear of more red to business below,
When, wondering how much of life was a wager,
With a miniature role, for eight tiny majors,
With no new money driver, no cash flowing track,
They knew in a moment… they needed St. Jack.

More rapid than eagles, Valenti he came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Sony! now, News Corp! now, P-Mount and GE!
On, Warners! on Disney! on, MGM/ UA!
To the top of the summer! To the top of the fall!
Now make money! Make money! Make money all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the savior, he flew,
With the promise of cash, and pay-TV too.

But soon, in a twinkling, they’d hear what they feared
The slicing and shredding of each new idea.

As they drew in their hands, and were turning around,
Into the boardroom St. Jack came with a bound.

He was dressed in black tie, from his head to his foot,
And his diction was perfect, his deep drawl still put;
A bundle of goodwill he’d flung on his back,
But he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his glower was scary!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair of his head was as white as the snow;
The plight of the biz made him grind all his teeth,
And hot smoke encircled his head like a wreath;
He swore with a rage and he’d quote LBJ,
He shook, when he talked about “back in my day.”

“Costs are chubby and plump… be ashamed of yourself,”
And they laughed as he said it, in spite of themselves;
A lack of a quote and a twist of his head,
Soon let them all know they had so much to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And crunched all the numbers; then turned with a jerk,
And laying that finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, from the big chair he rose;
He sprang to his feet, ready to give a smack,
But away he did walk, like Winona at Saks.
Then they heard him exclaim, ere their egos he bucked,
"Happy Christmas to all, you morons, you’re fucked."

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'Twas The Nights...
1998
1999
2003
2004
2005
2007

Posted by dpoland at December 24, 2008 12:28 PM

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Posted by: mysteryperfecta at December 24, 2008 02:49 PM

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