The Ghost of Media Christmas Parties Past

WE'RE JUST ABOUT ready to pull the plug here in Sticksville, pre-XMas, anyway. (You know the whole XMas thing? It's not crass like I thought it was. Apparently it's not 'X' in the sense of X at all -- it's Greek for "C" or something -- in the days of typesetting, they wanted one character to represent Christ. So, X.

I learned that from Bob Dylan today. Thank you, Bob, and your XM Theme Time Radio Hour.)

Anyhow, day after tomorrow I decamp to New York then Florida, but before I do -- I should shine a light on another good media biz blog I've been enjoying for a while.

Book of Don has been around. My favorite part of his blog is that he juxtaposes his copious early career journal entries with his thoughts today. That's perspective. Man, where was this kind of thing when I was thinking of getting into this ridiculous business?

Anyway, today Don posts about horrible Media Christmas parties. An excerpt:

It's that time of year again when Exec Producers describe newsrooms as "family", when unit managers drink too much cheap white wine and bore the crap out of everyone by driveling on and on about accounting software upgrades ... when freelancers scarf all the shrimps at the buffet table... and Shooters try to bed anyone they can.

Yep, it's Christmas party time. And TV parties are without doubt the worst.

Why ?

Because we spend WAY too much time crammed into dark little rooms with each other trying not to scream "YOUR STUPID IDEA IS GOING TO GET ME FIRED"...and now we're going to set all that repressed hostility aside and trade man-hugs ?

Right.

Not without copious amounts of Bushmills, we're not.

As you may have guessed I've seen my share of Good Will Gatherings. So, in the spirit of the season here are a few chestnuts-roasting type memories.


-- Christmas 1978. Calgary Sun party. Calgary.

Legendary columnist Fred Kennedy is about to retire so the publisher has a mock front page made with stories about Fred's career. The gift is blown up to 3 x 4 and we're all asked to sign it. Late in the evening someone scrawls in black marker..."I never liked you, you fat fuck. Ho Ho HACK !!".


-- Christmas 1980. SCTV party. Edmonton.

Too much Ouzo. Too much Rick Moranis. Too much Catherine O'Hara. Steal milk truck. Lose shirt. Wake up in bath tub

You can get the full post here. And hey -- you. Yeah, you, at the party. Hands off the P.A. Jesus!