A Dickens of a Christmas Carol

The annual Holiday Column . . . .

We begin this time with a previously unpublished tract recently discovered among the papers of Charles Dickens, and one that is remarkably similar to his classic “A Christmas Carol.” The setting is a darkened mansion where Ebenezer Scourge, master of all TV, is awakened by loud clanking sounds. Cowering behind his covers, a terrified Scourge is confronted by a ghost.

Scourge: Who are you?

Ghost: The Ghost of TV Past.

Scourge: What do you want of me at this hour, ghost?

Ghost: I’m here to show you the errors of your ways.

Scourge: Where are you taking me?

Ghost: To the television set.

Scourge: What are those?

Ghost: Old sitcoms.

Scourge: I hate reruns.

Ghost: These are different.

Scourge: Why, look! It’s Archie Bunker, “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “MASH,” “Barney Miller,” “Taxi.”

Ghost: Compare them with TV comedies of today.

Scourge: No, ghost, I can’t bear it.

TV set: Hey, I’ll pick my nose if I want to!

Scourge: What now, ghost?

Ghost: Remember the “family viewing hour,” when you set aside 8 p.m. to 9 p.m. for programs without sex or violence?

Scourge: It was years ago. I’d almost forgotten.

Ghost: Well, look what you give viewers now, Scourge.

TV set: What’s two plus two, little Johnny?

Forget that, Teach. Let’s you and me get it on.

Scourge: TV has indeed changed.

Ghost: Just a bit.

TV set: Your place or mine, little Johnny?

Ghost: And do you remember when the networks ran real documentaries, Scourge?

TV set: Good night, for “CBS Reports.”

Scourge: We still run documentaries.

Ghost: You call these documentaries?

TV set: This is Jane Pauley. . . .

Scourge: Maybe if she wasn’t grinning.

A second ghost: Look upon me, now, Scourge, for I am the Ghost of TV Present.

Scourge: Who lives in that house you’re showing me?

Ghost: The Bob Cratchits, including Tiny Tim.

Scourge: What is that program Tiny Tim is watching?

Ghost: Do you not recognize “Geraldo,” Scourge?

Scourge: Sweet Tiny Tim, watching “Geraldo”? Why do you torture me so?

Ghost: It gets worse. The Cratchits are a Nielsen family.

A third ghost: Come with me, Scourge.

Scourge: Who are you?

Ghost: The Ghost of TV’s Future.

Scourge: Why are we in this graveyard?

Ghost: Behold!

Tombstone: Here lies TV, a swell idea murdered by greed.

Scourge: I beseech you, ghost. Show me no more. I promise to reform. TV will improve.

Ghost: Beautiful. Listen, babe, have I got a series concept for you !

And now, please join us all in singing these traditional carols:

(To the tune of “God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen”)

God rest you merry, stockholders, let nothing you dismay,

Remember Dave our savior may be here any day;

To save CBS from Jay’s power, ‘cause late night’s gone astray. O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;

O tidings of comfort and joy!

From NBC our enemy, savior Dave may come:

And also kick around for us Arsenio that bum; And so at eleven-thirty we’ll build our profits some. O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;

O tidings of comfort and joy!

“Fear not, then,” said savior Dave, “Let nothing you affright ;

“For soon may come a Letterman of awesome ratings might, “To rescue those awaiting me from horrid late-night blight.”

O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;

O tidings of comfort and joy!

Now to NBC give thanks, all you within this place. And with true love and brotherhood each other now embrace;

This CBS outlay of bucks may bring redeeming grace. O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy;

O tidings comfort and joy!

(To the tune of “Deck the Halls”)

Deck the screens with Amy Fisher,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

She shot her gun at someone’s kisser,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

Don we now our crime apparel,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

Troll the networks’ violent carol, Fa la la la la la la la la!

See her blazing gun before us, Fa la la la la la la la la!

Not one or two, but three networks’ chorus,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

Follow me in ratings measure,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

While I tell of yuletide treasure,

Fa la la la la la la la la!

(To the tune of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”)

Rosie, the blue-prosed Arnold. Had a very poison pen,

And if you ever saw it,

You’d never want to see it again. Many a TV critic Used to laugh and call her names; They didn’t like poor Rosie

Warbling at baseball games. Then one foggy Christmas Eve,

Tommie came to say:

Rosie, with your prose so blue,

Won’t you fax some notes a few?

Then how the critics loved her

And they shouted out with glee:

“Rosie, the blue-prosed Arnold,

Babe, we’re making history.”