Bah, Humbug

12/20/1996

‘Tis the season to be…so let’s.  Everybody’s singing…it’s Christmas time.  Christmas is my favorite time of year.  Memories of Christmas are as deep as the snow in North Dakota…the state, not the movie.  Who can’t smile when thinking of Christmas holidays past?  My favorites?

A freezing sleigh ride in Tahoe when the idiot driver pulled under a tree to quote Elizabeth Barrett Browning.  My response to his reading wasn’t quite a poetic.

The San Francisco hot tubs with a secret Santa who I can’t talk about.  Bruce Hix would have details.  So would Bob Galiani, except he passed out and smashed his head on the floor.

But my favorite would be 1985 in New York City.  Big, wet snowflakes fell on Christmas Eve.  With Harry Nelson behind the wheel, we drove to Rockefeller Center.  I hung out of the window, yelling Merry Christmas greetings to all we passed on the sidewalk.  This greeting sent most diving into doorways.  People don’t make eye contact on the streets of New York, much less shout out Christmas cheer.  After the third pass around the ice rink, I saw a shadowy figure run toward the car.  Without warning, a snowball hit me right between the eyes.

“Merry Christmas, motherfucker! The not-so-secret Santa wished.

It was the best  Christmas I ever had!

My trip down memory lane done, let me pretend to wish some of you a happy holiday.

To Andrea Ganis: poached salmon, the Pacific Ocean on her right and two of the most beautiful blue eyes.  Let Danny Buch have a one-track mind.  Okay, if that’s asking for too much, how about a three-track mind?  Burt Baumgartner needs a lake closer to home, so he could use that new boat more.  Of course, that would mean we would have to share it with more people in the business, so better leave things as they are.  Bring Justin Fontaine a crying towel.  Make it a big one, Santa.

No moving vans for Lori Anderson, Santa.  She likes it fine just where she is.  Richard Palmese needs someone to move into his house in Palm Springs.  Network 40 could make a deal and use it as a “theme park” for the industry, but deciding on the “theme” might get us all in trouble.  Ken Lane needs nothing now that he has the perfect job.  Jim Elliot is comfortable where he is.

What about Phil Costello?  A nice hat would be the trick.  And Ritch Bloom?  Another nickname besides “Kong.”  Jeffery Blalock needs some NFL experience.  Ric Lippincott needs a LeAnn Rimes for Top 40.

How about giving Jerry Blair a new house?  Also maybe more quality time with Kiki.  And give Charlie Walk anything he wants because he’s such a saint, he looks up to everybody.  Let Lee Leipsner get out of the office more.  Season’s tickets for the Rangers to Jim Burruss.  And don’t forget Jerry Lembo just because he always forgets me.  Give Greg Thompson more golf time this year.  No one deserves it more.  MMM (More Minutes in Maui) for Bill Pfordresher.  Coddington?  A scale so he’ll know he isn’t heavy.  And for Mike Whited, a suite at the Hard Rock in Vegas.  We’re going to be there a lot in 1997!

Peter Napoliello could sure use another album like The Artist.  Ditto Michael Steele.  Craig Lambert needs bigger house upstate.  As for John Boulos, how about a map of Epic’s offices and a book matching pictures with promotion department’s names?  Let Dale Connone spend more time with Charlie Walk, Santa.  It makes him look bigger.

For Bob Catania, a bigger budget.  He’s going to need it.  For Steve Leavitt, a better haircut.  Craig Coburn needs to be called “C.C.”  Give John Fagot hit records, Santa.  No one deserves it more.  And Tim Burris? A Chauffeur. The man can’t drive, Santa.

Don’t bring Brenda Romano a damned thing, Santa.  She had such a great year, what more could she ask for?  Ditto Paula Tuggey.  Let’s concentrate on the more needy.  Joe Riccitelli wants people to stop calling him Joey.  Vicki Leben wants people to stop calling her Vic.  And Linda Murdock wants people to stop calling her.

Give Jack Satter more respect, Santa.  99% of the industry knows he deserves it.  Bankrupt the other 1%.  Skip Bishop needs a clone to attend the meetings he’s been in.  Mark Gorlick needs a tattoo and a naval ring.

Steve Ellis needs to be able to forge David Leach’s signature.  Chris Lopes got the best girl in the world…what else could he need?  Marc Benesch needs to get his Priorities straight.  Ditto Sean Lynch.

How about Butch Waugh, Santa?  Well, how about him?  Bonnie Goldner gets whatever she wants.  Let Rich Fitzgerald shoot consistently in the low 80s, Santa.  We know he won’t be satisfied, but that’s okay.  And Steve Tipp?  Let his entire family be perfectly healthy.  Give Marc Ratner two good years in a row.  It would be justice.  And give Bob Weil a personality.

Cancel Mike Becce’s Hits subscription.  What?  He already did it himself?  Then give him two Network 40s.  Steve Leeds needs less tension and more Universal happiness.  Monte Lipman wants a weekend bartender’s job.  Michael Plen needs a little spice in his life.  For Jeffery Naumann, an introduction to all the Top 40 PDs.  (Never mind, it wouldn’t matter.)  Santa, convince Al Moinet that he’s pronouncing Kilgore and Easterling’s names wrong.  And for Mike Easterling?  A little class.  Never mind, Santa, no one would notice.

Stu Cohen wants a string of hits.  And Barney Kilpatrick needs four kings.  Don’t give him aces, Santa.  Save those for me.  End the craving for Rick Bisceglia.  For Lisa Wolfe, a staff and more trips to the West Coast.

Give Val DeLong more Enclavage.  And for Bruce Schoen, Mark Kargol and Ron Geslin, good jobs.

Let Nancy Levin have a year of biting ants who spoil everyone else’s picnics.  Debby Peterson already got her wish by leaving Network 40.

And me?  How about that dream I’ve been working on?

Merry Christmas to all a good night!