Copyright

Robert E. Horseman, DDS

     This may be the last straw, the one that broke the camel's back, the absolute bleeding end!  Here you are, committing random acts of dentistry, some of it pro bono for all you know, doing your best to sooth the palpable fear in your patients. Suddenly there's a commotion in the reception room. A contingent of heavies wearing navy windbreakers with FBI emblazoned on the back, fills the room. Accompanied by uniforms from the local constabulary, they burst in, loudly insisting that you lie prone on the floor, fingers interlaced behind your neck. A mention is made of ventilating you with their AK-47s for non-compliance.

     What's happening here?  You really don't know, do you?  Well, ASCAP knows. So does BMI and SESAC.  Probably Jean Dixon, too. But you, you poor schmuck, thought you could play some FM music in your office, eh? Thought you could just bung a tape of the Lion King in your reception room VCR for the kids to keep them from playing tic-tac-toe with crayons on your embossed wallpaper, didn't you?  Now you're going to get it and your liability carrier won't even return your calls.  Duck your head to get in the back of the black and white, you white collar felon, the jig is up.

     Welcome to the wonderful world of copyrights and residuals, which, with the meringue sluiced off the boilerplate, simply states, "You play, you pay. You don't pay and we catch you, the only friend who'll have access to you will be your cellmate."

     This seems eminently fair to me.  You write a song, you should get paid each and every time it's played, performed, sung, whatever except a cappella in the soloist's shower. You're in a sitcom and it goes into syndication, nobody but a moron would sign a contract that deprives him of residuals. Same with authors of books, plays and standup comics' material.  So we’re not knocking this great custom that protects and benefits artists of every stripe, we just want to get in on it.

     Because we are artists, aren't we?  Creators of original one-of-a-kind works of art in precious metals, exotic ceramics and overpriced resins, we have foolishly relinquished our work for a mere pittance, a bagatelle, like a common laborer. Like a birth mother giving up her child for adoption, a child that could support her in her old age, our creations pass from our hands in what is clearly an outmoded concept called "fee for service."

     What a travesty!  Having bestowed on an edentulous patient the ability to smile, to eat, to maintain his dignity and his vertical dimension, are we not entitled to a modest fee each time he takes advantage of our talent?  Of course! Did the guy who wrote "The Hut Sut Song" just sell it like it was an MOD amalgam, never to receive another nickel?  Even if he is currently deceased, are not his heirs still receiving residuals from his memorable efforts? I'm not certain how we slipped up here, but with managed care and other forces of evil bearing down on us, it behooves us to make up for lost time.

    So here’s what you do: along with your next 6 unit bridge, issue your patient a license to use it for X number of months or years, specifying whether it is to be used in public exhibitions of smiling, promoting himself for certifiably legal means or in private such as eating without the possibility of personal gain, except in weight.

     People in all areas of the entertainment industry will understand and support us in this long overdue change in our way of doing business.  After all, you don't command a zillion dollar fee for your talent utilized in a single product and then get paid additional money each time that product is used without a sound knowledge of and appreciation for the laws of economics and usury.

      In time, I believe we can all do our thing for a few years, then sit back and watch the money roll in as the ADA collects from the people using our artistic creations and forwards the check to us each month.