Blueprint No Longer Considered ‘Blueprint For Success’
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Blueprint nine that day;
The circ numbers were low, dwindling somewhere in the realm of 350K
And then when October’s ad sales came and went, and November’s did the same
An incensed publisher intervened, looking for someone to blame.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, ‘If only Martha would wait ’till after the New Year
To deprive us of our health insurance, our dental and holiday cheer.’
But investors were getting squirmy, advertisers disinclined,
Staffers mopped their brows and fretted, ‘Would mighty Martha change her mind?’
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of resolution to their spat.
But management called a meeting, to the wonderment of all,
And the beleaguered Blueprint nine promptly responded to the call
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred
They beheld smiling senior staffers, both improbable and absurd!
Then from a half-dozen or so throats there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the shore,
For Martha, mighty Martha, was advancing to the floor.
There was ease in Martha’s manner as she stepped into her place;
There was pride in Martha’s bearing and a smile lit Martha’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, she waved, resplendent in her poncho,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Martha, the head honcho.
With a smile of cruel indifference great Martha’s Botoxy visage shone;
She stilled the rising tumult; she bade the staffers silence their phones;
She paused to contemplate the magnitude of all that was at stake
And then she wet her lips, cleared her throat and finally, Martha spake.
She ignored the quivering lips, the hopeful stares and misty eyes
She overlooked the pleas for mercy, the emotional goodbyes
And chose to couch her bad news in boring, business-speak instead
Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia had “misjudged the market,” she said.
“Fraud!” cried the maddened staffers, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Martha and the audience was awed.
They saw here face grow stern and cold, her muscles tense with hate
The final issue, she informed them, would be January/February 2008.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Omnimedia ??? mighty Blueprint has bottomed out.
–Semi-original poetry composed by Debbie Newman
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