A toast to showbiz
(While this column more typically points out what’s amiss, in the spirit of the holiday season, here’s a warmer-hearted offering.)
Millennial greetings to you, my friends,
As the year, decade and century ends.
We wish to celebrate the festive season
With shaky rhyme but savvy reason.
While those on showbiz’s money side
In East Hampton, Aspen or Kahala hide,
Celebrating a year of unparalleled wealth
— We toast each and all’s fiscal health.
Given our bullish point of view,
We believe this old Earth will muddle through.
Thus all of us in the entertainment crowd
Should party in a style to make Swifty proud.
Hollywood’s old royalty has been sent away,
And mere stars and directors are now passe.
In their stead are the front-office boys,
Laden with stock options and high-tech toys.
Thus at our party, serenaded by guitars and lutes,
Are those people formerly dismissed as “suits.”
Yet lest you think this crowd melancholy,
Remember the Nasdaq has made them jolly.
Look over there, it’s Redstone and Malone,
Pitching their stocks to Jessica Reif Cohen.
And there by the hearth’s blazing fire
Are WB’s newly crowned Horn and Meyer.
David, Jeffrey and Steven — the Dream trio
Are clinking glasses with their accustomed brio.
Then we spot USA’s Barry Diller
Trying to hassle Chase’s John Miller.
Clustered around the hors d’oeuvres tray
Are Bob Shaye, Brad Grey and Sony wonder Idei.
Off on his own Ovitz appears forlorn,
But brightens when he sees semi-siblings Yorn.
Herbie Allen, the host of Sun Valley fame,
Proclaims to all he is glad he came.
As Berg, Wiatt, Berkus and Nicita
Bury hatchets over a salt-free margarita.
SPE’s Calley wittily converses with H. Stringer
As the barman pours them a vodka stinger,
While Jake Bloom, Bert Fields and Barry Hirsch
Quaff snifters of a gentler Leo Kirch.
Karmazin isn’t here — too much work,
But Sherry Lansing dances with Chris McGurk.
At the bar Disney’s Roth and Eisner offered
To pour some bubbly for Gordie Crawford.
Plotting strategy in a distant corner
Are Levin and Turner of TimeWarner.
And Rich Bressler expounds with digital ease
To Warren Lieberfarb, dressed down in his DVDs.
Watching the doings with journalistic concern
Are Variety’s Bart, Archerd and Byrne.
And Harvey and Bob — always minding the store
Push their Oscar nominees around the floor.
As midnight nears we sing Auld Lang Syne,
And banish all thoughts that aren’t benign…
We hope you’ve found our doggerel funny,
And will remember next year: It’s Only Money.
(With a deep bow and apologies to the New Yorker’s late Frank Sullivan.)