I know.  We’re all a little jumpy these days.  But think about it.  For anyone to mistake this rather opaque publicity stunt as an act of terrorism. . . in comparison to previous events, doesn’t this one (at best) appear uncharacteristically whimsical? Do we really think the bad guys are spending time developing maddeningly clever graphics? 

None of us can predict the next event or what form it will take, but if it’s any help, here is Richard Reid, the hapless airline shoe bomber.  And this is Bill Murray as the bank robber in “Quick Change.”     

As one major player in television tries to force a rival not to distribute clips of copyrighted material, I’m reminded of many other such battles in media history. 

We’ve been here before.  In the 1920s, recording companies wrote contracts with their artists demanding they not perform on the radio, fearing that the rival medium would cut into record sales.  In August of 1942, musicians through their union (the AFM) officially stopped recording music because it was thought to reduce live performance employment. 

I worked in the record business years ago when “home taping” became the enemy.   I remember vividly the meeting where – quoting all available research showing home tapers were also the heaviest consumers of commercial LPs and tapes – I suggested that we provide discount incentives through an alliance with a blank tape company that would encourage tape buyers to sample new artists.  I came thisclose to getting fired.

More recently came the music companies refusing to allow their videos on the fledgling MTV (“we can’t give our music away for free”), and later fighting almost to their death the proliferation of music downloaded via internet as MP3s.

While royalty agreements solved some of those earlier disputes, it was the belief that corporations could control consumer behavior through prohibitions and barriers that was so misguided.  In fact, competition is frequently a boon for both industries.  In the radio vs. records battle back in the 1920s, for instance, radio’s popularity forced recording companies to improve technology and issue better records.  

Consumers don’t care about your financial model.  They want what they want, and they usually get it, one way or another.  When half the world watched the fake-news host trounce the bow-tied ninny on the internet, that fact in itself became news.  And how many people became hooked on fake news as a result?  Without YouTube, the clip would have found its way somewhere else and the traffic would have gone there.  And then the network’s lawyers could have hollered, “Cease and desist” to them. 

We don’t hear much about illegal music downloading anymore.  People tell me it was hard to do.  It took a long time.  The results were spotty.  Yes, it was free.  But iTunes is just too damn easy.  And by fighting MP3s for so long, what the record companies did was force that business and its profits into the outstretched fists of entrepreneurs. 

A casual inspection of the upload site owned by one of the mega media companies claiming harm from video downloads reveals tons of material owned by others.  Are they negotiating contractual agreements with all those rights holders and trading pennies with each other for downloads and views?

Watching the content wars play out between traditional media and new media will be fascinating sport in the months to come.  Stop fighting.  Learn from the traffic and harness it.  And always, always, always bet on consumer demand.  You can’t lose. 

Here is a related article by blogger Jeff Jarvis. 

Why do years flood by unnoticed, and moments linger forever?  On a beautiful morning in New York back in autumn, 1979, I walked up Sixth Avenue to my music business copywriting job.  On my belt was my new Sony Walkman, the silver and blue one — model TPS-L2 — that introduced the line to the world. I was one of the first to own it. 

Music was everything to me.  I was struck by the feeling of being immersed in the city’s overwhelming pulse, and isolated from it at the same time.  And as I crossed 51st Street, sensing only the power and clarity of the music, suddenly I felt a pat on my shoulder.  I looked around.  She was young.  Blonde.  Beautiful.  And she was smiling at me.  She pointed at the headphones on her ears, and her own Walkman swinging by the strap slung over her shoulder.  We nodded at each other, knowing in this city of eight million, we enjoyed an uncommon bond. 

We were a community.  We shared just that moment.  (Couldn’t have heard each other even if we spoke).  Two New Yorkers on their way to work.  But right then, I learned the value of investing in The New.  If nothing else, it can get you smiles.

What plaesant moment in time remains indelible to you?

We usually end the summer with an ice cream social at Herb’s and Sarah’s house, friends who love great food and enjoy the challenge of coming up with new and novel flavors.  There are four or five of us in the group who annually spend days pouring over recipes, mixing, freezing and packaging our newest creations. 

I don’t think I did very well this year – the Ouzo Sorbet didn’t set (too much alcohol), and the Lemon Garlic Sorbet would have been nicer between the appetizer and the main course than it was for dessert.  The Caramel Ice Cream tasted great, but there was nothing terribly inventive about it.  The Raspberry was a little sweet.  Only my Champagne with Roses was particularly subtle and truly refreshing.  And there was some stiff competition — Green Pepper Ice Cream was surprisingly delicious.   

But in previous years, I walked away confident I had won with such flavors as Pomegranate Sorbet and Tibetan Goji Berry.  Sarah pointed out to me this year, as she does each year, that our friendly ice cream social isn’t a competition.  I snorted quietly, then answered: “You know who thinks this isn’t a competition?  Losers!”

How often I’ve sat in meetings with clients, marveling as they detail their plans for new products or services as though no one else exists in their segment.  As though they own their customers’ attentions and loyalty as a birthright.  As though we all sit home waiting at the edge of our seats for announcements so we can rush out and buy.  In life and in business there is always competition.  I am already thinking about flavors for next summer.

Satirist Allan Sherman’s “Twelve Gifts of Christmas” came on the car radio just before the holiday.  Strange, but even though I’m familiar with his “Camp Grenada” song (“Hello Muddah, hello Fadda”) and “God Rest Ye Jerry Mendelbaum,” I had never heard his send up of the familiar Christmas classic. 

If you don’t know it, you can probably imagine.  The gifts his true love gave to him included a simulated alligator wallet, a calendar with the name of his insurance man, green polka dot pajamas, and a Japanese transistor radio.  (Everything gets returned on day twelve).  

When I got home, I bought the track on iTunes, slotted it with my holiday playlist on the ipod and played it for the kids.  They laughed and laughed.  Then my son asked, “Dad, what’s transistor?”  What answer could I give him?  That it’s a device that controls current and voltage in appliances?  That it’s the fundamental building block for all modern electronics, including computers?  That as a small, mass-produced device, it made portable radios affordable and ubiquitous, creating lifestyle changes for an entire generation?  “Look it up in Wikipedia,” I told him.  They’d know.

What entertainment device changed your life?

I was thinking of Frank Capra over the holidays, because of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  I remembered a remark of his related to movie making, and how often I’ve quoted it to advertising and promotion clients – usually when someone tells me how many times the product name needs to be mentioned in a radio script, or what should be stated first, near the top, because that’s where the important stuff goes. 

There are a lot of rules in some book somewhere that in 25 years no one has been able to produce for me.  (I have my own rulebooks but that’s a post for another day.). 

I have developed dozens of media brands over the years and never has one presentation resembled another.  When I write for broadcast, I try to imagine the listeners and viewers doing something else that is incredibly absorbing, so that I am forced into choices that grab them away from it.  Never are my choices the same.