There are many options in encoding a DVD.
The most evil path to take is to slap a bunch of unskippable crap in front of the menu. Disney’s not the only company who’s done this. If you could follow the paper trail of memos and meetings, I’m sure you could finally find someone, somewhere, who bears the final responsibility for giving the go-ahead to inflict this on people. At the end of all, I like to think that that person will stand before the Pearly Gates.
Saint Peter will look up from his ledger patiently after waving through a very nice atheist couple, who look pleasantly surprised. Smiling, Mr. Unskippable steps up, fully confident, faith unwavering in his worthiness. His church has named a scholarship to their private school after him, things like that.
Saint Peter jerks a thumb to the left, where a singed firepole plunges straight down through a hole in the clouds. All the way down. He looks a little annoyed when Mr. Unskippable just gapes. “Don’t look at me like that! Two minutes of previews, one billion times over in your life, that’s two billion minutes, that’s…Three thousand eight hundred and five years before you even get considered for probationary release out of Purgatory and into Limbo for observation.”
“All right! Let’s make it four thousand years! You wanna go for five?”
“Five it is! Come on, let’s go for ten! Give me an excuse, just give me an excuse, please.”
Mr. Unskippable shuffles, head hanging, to the Purgatory Pole. The small child behind him in line, she’d died too early from very stubborn leukemia, looks at St. Peter with a smile. “Unskippable previews make Baby Jesus cry,” she says solemnly.
The gatekeeper of Heaven nods. “Yes they do, Virginia. Yes they do. But I’m afraid that you said some very hurtful things to your nurses. That would give you a couple years of Purgatory…”
Her eyes widen, but Peter smiles at her, and shouts after Mr. Unskippable’s dwindling scream, “…but she gets to skip it!”