Been forgetful for the past year and a half....

this is the only blog posting i've done of any note in the last year or so....and i didn't post it here because i couldn't remember my sign in or password.

Erica Sackin's opinion is right on the money (pun intended). I am also a gainfully employed 27-year-old. In fact I am gainfully employed twice over, working for both a marketing firm, and as a server in the evenings and on weekends. And I also have a hard time seeing how an extra $300 is going to significantly impact my life, or the economy for that matter. As soon as my check arrives it will be going right back out, to pay off money I already owe. In effect, its already been spent. The Bartlett administration tried this once, in an episode of "The West Wing". When Charlie told the President that he had used his rebate to pay off his visa bill, Jeb replied, "it would have killed you to buy a pair of khakis?" That seems to be the thinking of this administration. That if they give us this money we will spend it on goods and services, rather than to pay down our already enormous debt. But for any of us who have been burned by credit cards, student loans, or mortgages in the past, we know better. Rather than pumping more money into the economy, this rebate is in fact pulling it out, placing more money into the hands of our creditors. Instead of giving the $153-billion to the banks maybe the president can use it for something worthwhile...like fueling up every C130 he can find and bringing home the soldiers in Iraq.

Crazy like a FOX

Some things for you guys to think about and look at.

-Michael Eisner said that the strike is "stupid" because the writers should take the money that's there now and not some money that might come about with the strike...how stupid does he think these people are? the point of investing is that you assume that the investment you are making might hurt a little now, but in the future will pay off well. Even I know that, and I barely passed Econ in school.

-More people are talking about the chants. Really, is this the best thing you can come up with? Joel Stein said something about it in his column, which if I have finally learned how to translate his columns from neurotic to english, is essentially in support of the strike. And is complaining about them too. I guess she was too busy coming up with clever little bon mots to actually read the script for South Of The Border (that's the talking dog/mexican roadtrip/dogfighting movie she's just getting ready to wrap. I think it's supposed to be the Michael Vick bio-pic)

-The writers are going to be out picketing en masse at Fox today. If you're in the area stop by, honk when you drive by, if you can wear red to show support.

-Variety has a story that is mostly speculation that the studios and networks might turn to British writers to fill the void created by the strike. I guess the founding fathers fought the revolution for nothing!

Also, just in case you're interested in where I'm getting this stuff check out:
Ken Levine's Blog A hilarious blog from one of the writers who is out on the picket line.
Deadline Hollywood Daily Very informative and pretty evenly balanced in reporting.

Strike While the Iron is HOT

I've spent the last couple days talking about this strike with just about everyone I know. So far I have basically heard two critiques.
The first is a general indictment of unions and strikes in general. If someone is anti-union then there really isn't much that I can write in here to convince them, as I've learned with my own parents.
The second one really pisses me off though. The second is mocking their picket line chants. Really? That's the best you can come up with? The reason you think they don't deserve to be compensated for their work is because they don't write a great CHANT.
Never mind that you watch their shows every week, and get completely wrapped up in the story.
Nevermind that they don't get a cent when you download the show they created, and get less than a dime for every DVD you buy, they make up a bad chant on the line, so they got what they deserved.
If that is the best critique that you can come up with, then I will offer a defense of the writers that befits such a statement:
They're on strike so they aren't allowed to write anything including chants.
Ridiculous? You're right. So is saying that a chant isn't good. If you don't believe in the strike that's fine. It's your right to have your own opinion and if we disagree thats ok. But if you are going to speak out against (or for that matter in favor of) the strike say something of substance.

Guilding the Lily

To begin, let me tell you something I once did that should make my bleeding liberal heart wilt with shame. In the grocery workers’ strike of 2003 I was a scab. I crossed the line and served people their lattes from the friendly confines of the Starbucks in a local Vons. In defense of this supposedly heinous act, however, let me offer a few points so you know the whole story.
1. A friend had just been hired as the Starbucks department manager at said Vons, and when a strike became imminant he was told that unless he could find a staff willing to cross the line he would have to be let go. I could help a friend, and get paid nearly twice what the Starbucks I already worked at was paying me. What would you do?
2. The traditional definition of a union is a group of skilled laborers who gather together to collectively bargain. It took me less than an hour to learn how to run a cash register. How much skilled labor really goes into this? And if there’s no skill to the labor, can they really be called a union?
3. If it’s not a union, am I really crossing a picket line?

Now that we’ve uncovered this terrible embarrassment from my past, lets look at the present. As I’m sure you may have guessed, today we’re going to be discussing the writers’ strike currently going on in Hollywood.

….I started this blog yesterday. I had about a thousand words. I scrapped all of it but the intro you just read, because I read a few new things last night and this morning. The brief gist of what I wrote originally is this:

-Unlike a grocery union, The Guild is a real union because what they do requires skill.
-The Guild wants to get more money from DVDs and to get any money from shows and content downloaded from iTunes, nbc.com, and other sites.
-DVDs now create the lion’s share of income for both films and television.
-Writers currently make about five cents per DVD. That’s less than 5% of 5% of the income from DVDs.

The first thing that I discovered (I found it here: http://www.deadlinehollywooddaily.com, thanks to loyal reader Max for sending it to me), is that through backchannel discussions, the Guild and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers agreed to an 11th hour negotiation Sunday. The Guild was going to agree to forego ANY income from DVDs, in exchange for the Alliance coming up with a working plan to pay for internet programming and downloads. As the meeting was getting set to begin the Guild, as had been agreed, expressed a willingness to take the DVD issue off the table. The Alliance trashed what they had promised and said there would be no negotiation on the internet issue. At that point the Guild negotiators walked out and the potential strike became an imminant strike. Although this sort of tactic isn’t to be entirely unexpected from EITHER side, it stinks to high heaven. Up until this story was revealed yesterday, it seemed that the Guild had fired the first shot in the war. Now it appears that the Alliance set off a firecracker in order to draw the Guild out.

Next I read in the Los Angeles Times (www.latimes.com) that all the major networks and studios, with the exception of Sony Pictures have begun sending out suspension notices, stating that there will be no more funding given to production companies is going to cease. In essence this means that now even the people who AREN’T striking (the assistants, secretaries, etc) are being locked out. People who aren’t even members of the Guild are now losing their source of income, even if they were going to continue working.

In addition, the studios are telling the show-runners (basically the head writer for a show, who in addition to writing the show also has an executive producer credit) that if they do not continue their duties as producer that there will be legal ramifications. This is forcing the show runners to either defy their guild, which could lead to future issues with the Guild when this is all settled, or face a potential law suit.

Finally, also in the Times I read an opinion piece by Marshall Herskovitz, one of the creators of Thirtysomething and My So-called Life, detailing a tangential issue that I hadn’t even known about. It’s what’s called Finsyn (Financial Independence and Syndication), a ruling issued by the FCC in 1995 that took control of the shows out of the hands of independent production companies, and handed them over to the networks. This ruling took control of shows away from the creators, and handed it over to the networks that broadcast them. This laid the groundwork for the issues that have become so divisive in these negotiations…way to go FCC!

These issues have far reaching ramifications. First and most importantly, if this strike goes on much longer just what the hell am I going to watch Tuesdays at 9 (House), Wednesdays at 8 and 10 (Pushing Daisies, Dirty Sexy Money respectively)? I can’t very well watch Dancing With The Stars every night! Second, how am I going to get a job when I finish school in six weeks if the writers are on strike? And finally, and this looks out for you my readers, as well as myself, how much worse are we going to let the programming we watch get? If we let the studios and networks dictate everything, pretty soon every show is going be a cheap derivitive of Heroes, Lost, ER, or Law & Order.

I encourage all of my readers (all 6 of you!) to support this strike. Write letters to the networks and studios letting them know that you support the strike and you want fair compensation for the people who sweat and toil to create your entertainment. When you drive past the studios honk in support of the picketers. If you’ve got time go down there and walk with them.

Whenever possible I will be updating you daily on what’s going on with the strike, and letting you know how you can help. Get these guys back to work so I can get to work and move out of my parent’s house.

Slacker Chic

What is it about L.A. that turns people into slackers?

When I was a freshman in college my roommate and I would get dressed up in suits and aviator shades, (or as we called them, Asshole Glasses.) every Thursday and act like assholes. We weren’t trying to be dicks to people, but there was just something about dressing well that made us feel superior to the frat boys in their Abercrombie faux vintage tees and distressed cargo pants. Those Thursdays were, of course, just a college version of playing dress up, when you used to put on dad’s shoes and suit coat and pretend like you were a grown up, but it was something that carried over to the rest of my week, and the rest of my wardrobe. I was broke 90% of the time, but I still managed to look nice. I actually IRONED my shirts every morning. My general uniform was a button down shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of beat up old dress shoes, but I took the time to shine them once a week so they stayed nice. I spent some time getting ready every morning, whether I had a job interview, class, or was just going to the caf for a cup of coffee and a bagel. Not to be conceited, but I looked GOOD.

Since I’ve moved back to L.A. I’ve seemed to find the height of fashion to be a wrinkled black t-shirt and the same pair of dirty cargo shorts that I’ve been wearing all week. And it’s not just me. In L.A. people don’t dress like they do elsewhere. Here if you want to look good, you’re supposed to look like you’re trying not to look good. The dirtier your jeans look, the cooler you are. The more wrinkled your shirt is, the less you care, and hence the hipper you are.

All of this is coming from Saturday when I had to put on a suit to go to a wedding. I got my hair cut, my suit pressed, bought a new tie, and even ironed my shirt. And good goddamn if I didn’t look better than I’ve looked in a long time.

Maybe this slacker chic comes from living in a city that is so obssessed with image. A reaction to the fact that we live in the same place as people who have personal shoppers, who get tuxedos and dresses for free, simply because they are going to a place where they might be on TV, or will get photographed for a magazine. We want to seem aloof, because we don’t want people to think we’re affected by where we are.

It also doesn’t help that the paparazzi show us pictures of Brad Pitt doing yardwork in a dirty pair of workman’s pants and a sweaty old t-shirt. But let’s be honest about a few things. First, you can put Brad Pitt in a fat woman’s mumu, and he’s still gonna look like a stud. Second, Brad looks better when he’s in his Oscar De La Renta tux. Finally, YOU aren’t Brad Pitt.

I’m not saying there isn’t a place for your ratty shorts, your favorite college tee, your jeans with holes so big they’re more space than substance. But lets use them like Brad does. Wear them when you’re working in the yard, on your car, whatever. My favorite shorts are a hideous red, yellow and blue plaid. They’re comfortable, lightweight, and bright enough to light Vegas for a week. But I vow, starting today, to wear them only when golfing, or when I plan not to leave the house. I vow to start shaving everyday...ok that's not true, I really hate shaving, but I vow not to let it get beyond a 5 o'clock shadow. I vow to start wearing clean clothes EVERY day, not just MONday.

September 12th

I think it's really morbid when people post about what they were doing on 9/11/01 on 9/11/07. So I waited until today to do it. It's been 6 years now since it happened, and I still remember everything with incredible detail and clarity. It was our generation's Kennedy Assassination.

Six years ago I was waiting for classes to start, which wasn't until late late September at Columbia. So I was still working my summer job clerking for a personal injury attorney in downtown Chicago. Although I'd had other office jobs, this was the first job I had where I felt like it was important. Like what I did on this job mattered. I was appearing before the bench, arguing motions (granted, they were only continuance requests, but still. The court reporter was writing down what I said.) I was typing up briefs. They gave me a pager, and paid my cell bill. For the first time I had a job that depended on my wits and brains and ability to make people like me, something that couldn't be done by a trained monkey.

So on Tuesday morning, I was on the train on my way to Daley Plaza (the county court building in Chicago, a 36 story behemoth in the middle of the loop. Third tallest building in the city. And this is a city with two of the tallest buildings in the country, just to give you a sense of scale. You've probably seen it. It's the one with the giant Picasso statue out front.) I had a brief that I'd been working on at home the night before that needed to be turned into a judge first thing in the morning. The el stop was right outside the courthouse, so when I had things to drop off I just went there before i even went to the office. So i go upstairs drop off the file, flirt with the chubby girl who was the judge's clerk, so she'd take care of my shit quickly. I'm going back downstairs, and I step off the elevator and there's a sherrif's deputy posted at either end of the elevator bank herding everyone out, saying there's an emergency, and the building is being evacuated. So I head to the door, thinking, that's weird, but not particularly worried or scared.

I leave the court building and head to the deli that's on the first floor of my office's building. I go inside and get a muffin and a cup of coffee, and I'm sitting there listening to some god awful easy listening station. I hear the DJ come on and say something about an explosion at the pentagon. Then they go back to playing Michael Bolton or something ridiculous like that. I ask the counter girl if she knew what they were talking about, and she says, "I dunno, some explosion or something" thank you. very helpful.

Anyways, I go up to my office, and the secretary says, "CJ, your mom called like 5 times. She needs to talk to you." So I go back to my desk and call my mom and she's FREAKING out. "OH MY GOD!! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK" I'm saying mom, calm down. There was an explosion at the pentagon, but i'm sure it was an accident. A mistake of some kind. And she's shouting about how they blew up New York and they're going to Chicago and LA next. I get her somewhat calmed down and go into my boss's office to turn on the TV.

Holy Shit...we ARE under attack. As I stare at the towers pouring geysers of smoke and fire into the air I'm thinking jesus christ. What the hell is going on? and tom brokaw is talking but at this point we still don't know who or what did this or how it happened. and then i'm think oh shit. THIS is the next biggest city in the country and they've already got DC and NY and whats next is chicago cuz they're going to head west and hit chicago and then LA and oh shit my whole family is in LA and fuck everyone else i care about in the world is in chicago and jesus christ i'm downtown right now and i'm close to all three of the tallest buildings in the city and fuck i have to get out of the loop

....deep breath...

first things first. Call the boss and make sure he knows what's going on. Deb can you call David? David, look you know what's going on? ... OK, good, so, we're all kinda freaked out here, and we want to leave. We're not too comfortable being downtown with everything that's happened? ... So I'll call the clients and tell them not to come in. ... Well are you coming in? ... Then why the hell should we stay. ... No I'm calling the clients and telling them we're not going to be here. ... Call me later today and let me know if we're going to open the office tomorrow morning.

Hi, is this Mrs. Thompson? ... Hi ma'am this is Charles in David K's office, we spoke last week? ...yes ma'am, well I was calling to let you know that we are closing down the office today in response to the tragedy in New York. ... Yes ma'am it's incredible. I have the TV in the office on it. ... Yes ma'am we'll call you later this week to reschedule your appointment with Mr. K. ... You too, ma'am.

Hi, Mrs. Washington? ... Yes, ma'am, it's Charles from Mr. K.'s office. ... Well I'm actually calling to reschedule ma'am. Yes, in response to the tragedy...the one in New York? ... Turn on any of the big channels ma'am. ... yes it's terrible. ... Yes, ma'am we're actually leaving the office to get out of the downtown area for the rest of the day. ... Yes ma'am God bless you too, and you be careful as well.

As I'm hanging up the phone one of the building security guys with his vaguely military looking jacket busts into our office shouting about an evacuation, everybody out of the building. At this point we're calm in my office and we leave in an orderly manner.

Twenty-five minutes later I'm finally on a train, and it's insane. Except for the el platforms, the whole loop was empty. You only saw people if they were headed to the trains. I later found out that the city had evacuated the whole loop in case there was an attack on chicago.

I'd never been on an el train that quiet. small pockets of people asking what other people knew. I had my headphones on and a Johnny Cash album in my discman, which was just surreal, hearing that gravelly voice, while looking at these people on a morning of nationwide mourning.

After that I made my way back to my apartment where I found Nick and Riley and a few cases of beer. We spent the rest of the day on the couch drinking beer, occassionally commenting on the fact that we'd feel much safer if Peter Jennings was the President, and Riley calling friends and family every half hour trying to find out any news about his old high school friend who worked in the north tower.

I can't remember what I did last friday, but this day is permanently burned in.

My thoughts and prayers are still with the loved ones who lost or were lost, and with the country.

amen.

Rules of The Road

I spend a lot of my time here in LA on the road, and as such I have observed a few things that seem to be common truths with most of the people on the roads. If you just follow these simple rules, you won't find me yelling at you when I finally get to somewhere I can pass your dumb, slow-drivin ass.

IF YOU ARE IN THE FUCKING FAST LANE, YOU HAVE TO DRIVE FASTER THAN 65!!!! You stupid asshole, if you want to only drive the speed limit, thats fine, and kudos to you for having the forsight and planning ability to leave on time. However, please understand that some of us may be be running a little late, traffic might be worse than expected, or for whatever reason, we HAVE TO MOVE FASTER THAN YOU!!!!!!!!!! And, in many cases, the slow traffic is YOUR FAULT anyways!!! So, if you refuse to drive in the 75-80 range, get the fuck over to the right.

Also, if you are at a light with an unprotected left, PULL INTO THE FUCKING INTERSECTION!! If you just pull forward ten feet, you not only will still be safe, but you will also allow TWO more people to go. So don't be an asshole, just pull forward. Its not that hard. Just tap the tall skinny pedal on the right. You can do it. Come on.

When it's raining, you don't have to slow down to 35 mph. You can keep going a relatively decent speed. It's not 1967 when the roads were made of tar and all the oil would float to the surface. The roads are concrete...and you know those little grooves in the road? they're there to sluice away the excess water so you don't hydroplane. you can keep driving at a good clip, and if you feel yourself start to hydroplane, just take your foot off the gas. you'll get your car under control and make it.

Don't pace the cars next to you. if you're in the fast lane go slightly faster than the car to your right. same if you're in the middle. if you pace people, others can't pass you, and sometimes they need to.

Pay attention to whats going on around you. Check your review and side mirrors often, at least a few times a minute. If you see someone coming up behind you fast, or riding your ass, move over to the right so they can pass. They're not supposed to pass on the right, so you need to move over for them to pass.

I have had many different cars in the 10 years since I got my license. Some of them were little gutless wonder 4 bangers, and some were 8 cylinder beasts. In not a single one of them have I EVER had trouble getting up to 65 on the on-ramp to the freeway. The point of an on-ramp is to allow you to get your speed about equal to that of the flow of traffic. Next time you are going 45 when you are getting into the flow of traffic, I'm going to throw a shake on your windshield.

If you too obey these simple rules of the road, the whole world will be a happier, more harmonious place.