We interrupt this string of lazy, overly snarky columns to bring you some lazy, overly snarky news and commentary.
Yes, Hollyland’s writers are going on strike starting this week, in a move that has been long-anticipated and yet unprevented by the greedy bastards who control all the revenue. There are multiple points of dispute but one of the main ones is that the writers want royalties on “new media” money, meaning these new-fangled things like DVD sales and internet downloads. Oh, you silly writers! That money is earmarked for the Weinsteins to rub their crotches and light their cigars with! If you see any of it, it will be lining your cage while you crap out another six episode run of “Heroes.” And they’ll take it away so that fine actors like this guy can read lines like this one: “It’s my turn to be somebody now, Nathan!”
Yes, it is, Peter: it’s time for you to be a writer. Because nobody else is going to do it for you any time soon.
This is not a big deal for the movie industry, because 1. they have an enormous backlog of scripts, and 2. they can always have a gopher scribble a fourth remake of something on a spiral-bound notebook while they’re off power-lunching and rubbing their crotches with their writer’s annual earnings. It doesn’t take much creative energy to dream up a plot like “Halloween, except the first scene is much longer and the rest is much shorter.” In fact I’m pretty sure that was Rob Zombie’s shooting script for Halloween: Michael Myers is Going to Take Your $8.50 and Rub His Crotch With It.
But it does suck for the people who make television shows, and even more so for the people who watch them. Serialized, plot-heavy shows like Lost and 24 will be hit hard. Heroes is talking about running an alternate ending to their current mini-run of episodes and calling that the season.* An ominous message has been delivered to anybody with sensitive ears and a weak stomach: if this thing keeps up, that pack of barbarians coming over the horizon is a bunch of reality shows, gameshows hosted by former sitcom stars, and programs written by and starring the two Coreys. They’ll be ransacking your Tuesday and Thursday evenings while The Daily Show is shut down, twiddling their thumbs, and Lost‘s Doctor Jack is working on his stylin’ drunk-guy beard. Does this sound awesome to you? Does this sound like a good way to spend the long, cold Indiana winter? Because it sure does not to me.
So to the Weinsteins I say this: get that money out of your pants, put down the gold-plated lighter, and give a little back to the guys with the typewriters. Seriously. Do it today. I’d hate to have to come to your house and make you watch thousands of hours of reality shows starring Tila Tequila, but I sure fucking will, if you force me. This could get ugly, Diane.
* Damn! And we were just about to find out what was in the mystery pocket of Peter’s mystery jeans that he was wearing when he got amnesia! Insiders tell me it was his Blockbuster card.