Tuesday, October 16, 2007


Crazy time in Hollywood now. So much fear and panic. That's what happens when people feel out of control. In a town that's based on development and filling the pipeline, "not knowing" is the worst kind of boogieman. I'm not a very political cat. Don't go to WGA functions, never marched a picket line. I do however support my union, pay a shitload of dues and vote. I voted for the strike as did most of the writers I know. Truth is, we've been posturing so much this last month, waving the walkout flag in management's face, if we don't strike we'll look like a bunch of fucking pussies. Today the studios took the residual revamp off the table in a "show of good faith". This is such a jerkoff. The revamp was an absurd and obvious powerplay -- a big "fuck you, now who's a bitch?" We all knew what the game was and the studios played it exactly as planned -- taking it off the table a couple weeks before the contract deadline so they would look like the fair and equitable ones. Not very creative. But I guess that's not their job. Look, I don't think the studios are demons. They're businessmen protecting their bottomline. In this economic climate, that's a brutal and unforgiving process. The working man always takes the hit. The biggest stumbling block for writers and studios is history. We're like a bitter divorced couple, every time we sit down to talk about today, we can't help dipping into the past. We both feel abused and misunderstood. The writers are desperately negotiating to make up for the deficits of the past by trying to predict the windfalls of the future. This, my friends, is tricky voodoo. Often ending in a headless chicken and a pool of blood. Hopefully we will make some headway in the next two weeks. This gesture today, albeit bogus, may at least get us talking. Or not.