Facebook How The Media Hid the Recovery
Parody by Ric Edelman (with apologies to Dr. Seuss)December 2010
Every Who Down in Who-ville
Wanted Economic Recovery a lot...
But the Media, you see, actually did NOT!
The Media hated recovery! The whole recovery thing!
They thought recession had a much nicer ring.
The Media knows that bad news sells
And recessions are bad news with bells.
So for that very reason, the Media like a Grinch
Decided that selling bad news would really be a cinch.
But the recession was over, the Media really knew
So they had to work really hard to keep hot the recession stew.
This isn’t easy anymore, the Media well know
For economic recovery is coming, wrapped in a bow.
No matter how hard the Media has tried
They can’t hide the fact
That the economy is again growing
And we’re on the right track.
And the Media is annoyed
For they like to sing the blues
After all, they know well how to sell
Really bad news.
The Media’s mission is not merely a lark
Keep the Whos in Whoville completely in the dark
Truly that is the Media’s agenda
If the Whos knew the truth
their subscriptions they’ll suspenda
That exactly is the worry
of the Media elite
They don’t want the Whos to know
That the recession for them
has been so sweet, so complete.
With bailouts and foreclosures, and tax debates all around
It’s noise has produced a terrible sound
Indeed, the Media has had lots to blare
They’ve attracted a huge audience
Beyond history, beyond compare.
But from the Whos in Whoville
the Media cannot forever withhold the story
for year-end statements will reveal the facts
in all their unvarnished glory.
“They’ll tally their holdings!” the Media now fret with a sneer.
“Year-End statements are coming! They’re practically here!”
So the Media, with their fingers nervously drumming,
Say “We MUST find some way to stop recovery from coming!”
Yes, this holiday season, the Media say
All the Who girls and boys will wake bright and early from their bed.
They’ll rush for their paper, and turn on the TV.
They’ll go online and download their accounts and then they’ll see
Yes the Whos, young and old, will sit down with their statements.
And they’ll scan! And they’ll score!
And they’ll tally! examine! and review it all once more!
They will read of gains and growth and dividend distributions
All were things the Media hated with complete resolution!
And THEN
They’ll do something
The Media likes least of all!
Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small
Will stand close together, and listen for the market bell ringing.
They’ll stand hand-in-hand. And the Whos will start singing!
They’ll sing! And they’d sing!
AND they’ll SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Media has thought of this Who-Investor Song,
The more the Media thinks, “We cannot take this for long!
“Why, since May of 09 the market has gained a big amount!
“we MUST stop this recovery – it must no longer count!”
So the Media has a new idea!
An awful idea!
THE MEDIA
HAS A TERRIBLE, AWFUL IDEA!
“We know just what to do!” is the Media’s tag
We’ll hire some anchors, dress them up like Saint Nick!
And give them some bags
And assign them a neat trick.
And so here my friends is the story
Of Christmas two thousand and ten
I’ll tell it to you as though it already happened back then.
Into Who-ville Christmas Eve the anchors quietly strode
And found the Whos all in quiet sleep mode.
All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.
The Whos were all dreaming of recovery without care
When the first anchor came to the first house on the square.
“This is stop number one,” that first Media anchor hissed
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch.
But, if Santa could do it, for the anchor it’s a cinch.
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue
And saw the account statements on a desk at the side.
“These statements,” he grinned, “are the first things I will hide!”
In each Who house, the anchors all went
To gather the statements on a mission they were sent.
They slithered and slunk, with smiles of craving,
Around every room, they took every saving!
Bank accounts! And checking! Passbook savings, too!
EE bonds! T-bills! Muni’s! And ETFs – boo hoo hoo!
The anchors stuffed every certificate in bags. Then they, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Each slunk to the computers. They took the Whos’ data!
They took the Who statements! And smirked “See ya lata!”
They cleaned out the computers – there was nothing left to see
Why, the Media even took away the photos of Ben Bernanke!
And each stuffed all those investments up the chimneys with glee.
“And NOW!” they grinned, “We will make them watch CNBC!”
And they grabbed the TVs, and tuned them all to Jim Cramer
Who shouted through the speaker with nary a disclaimer.
But one small Who heard all the noise
Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.
The Media had been caught off guard by this little Who girl
She who had eyelashes so long and hair in a curl.
She’d got out of bed and stared at the Media and said, “why,
“Why do you feel our recovery must die?”
But, you know, the Media was so smart and so slick
They thought up a lie, and they thought it up quick!
“Why, my sweet little tot,” the Media lied,
“The recovery won’t last” – what a nasty reply.
No evidence they offered, not a single fact or truth
Only supposition and rumor, so completely uncouth.
And the Media’s fib fooled the child. Then they patted her head
And let her see Cramer’s tirade before sending her to bed.
And when Cindy-Lou Who went to bed all curled up,
The Media went to the chimney and stuffed the sacks up!
Then the last thing they took
Was some out-of-date tax book.
And the one speck of hope
That they left in the house
Was of such little value it was even too small for a mouse.
And the Media did the same thing
To all the Whos’ houses
Leaving crumbs
Much too small
For all the Whos’ mouses!
It was quarter past dawn ...
All the Whos, still a-bed,
All the Whos, still a-snooze
When the Media packed up their sled,
Packed it up with Who assets!
The statements! The records! The packets!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Crumpit,
They rode to their tower
“Pooh-Pooh to the Whos!” the Media was humming.
“They’re finding out now that no recovery is coming!"
“They’re just waking up! We know just what they’ll do!"
“They’ll listen to us and all will all cry BOO-HOO!"
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Media, “that will sell lots of papers”
So proud of themselves about their cool capers.
And so the Media paused. And they checked their email.
The messages were few at first like just a single flake of snow.
But then, fairly soon, they started to grow ...
But the messages weren’t sad!
Why, they actually were merry!
It couldn’t be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!
The Media stared down at Who-ville!
And despite all their lies
what the Media got
was a shocking surprise!
Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small,
Was happy! Without any good news at all!
The Media HADN’T stopped the recovery from coming!
It CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Media, with its grimace ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?
“The recovery came without faxes! Without any breaking alerts!
“Maybe,” the Media thought, “recovery can come despite all of us jerks!”
And what happened then ... ?
Well ... in Who-ville they say
the Media’s small brains
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute their brains didn’t feel as small as a pin,
They changed all their programs to present the truth without spin.
And then ...
... the Media themselves
Seeing happiness in great amount
The Media themselves
All opened an account!
Merry Christmas!!!
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