This week the Writers Guild of America, liberal Hollywood's equivalent of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party, went on strike in defense of downtrodden Ferrari-driving, Brioni-wearing, apple martini-drinking screenwriters everywhere (but mostly in Hollywood).

In gratitude for their "enlightening" the American public with their "creative vision," one writer suggested, "What if all the consumers of television who support the writers began boycotting every single item manufactured by the corporations that own the studios?"  I am eager to see how many soccer moms and NASCAR dads in the rest of America will join this important national movement in defense of a group that gets paid an average of $200,000.00 per year for using their imagination.  I suggest that the Hollywood screenwriters not hold their breath waiting for the American public to come to their rescue.

In the interest of full disclosure, I confess that I am a working film and television writer and producer.  I have been in the entertainment business for 15 years, and I have earned a very comfortable life for myself, no thanks to the unions.  I am still technically a member of the Writer's Guild, although I don't know why since most of my work today is as a producer, not a writer.  I imagine I'll just let my membership expire or let the union Nazis kick me out for crossing the picket line (which I understand will have valet service).  For my own amusement, I did decide to take advantage of one benefit of membership in the WGA and attend last week's "emergency meeting" of 3000 writers voting on the strike.

The meeting described by a fellow writer as "somewhere between brothers and sisters in arms, and the coalition of the selfish" took place at the Los Angeles Convention Center, and I haven't seen so many Porsches and Bentleys since the Pitt-Aniston wedding.  Inside, the WGA politburo assailed the film and television companies for depriving the poor writers of an even larger piece of the studio's DVD and theoretical internet revenue.  When the union brass in an attempt at sympathy mentioned a few minor concessions they made to the studios in negotiation, an overzealous writer shouted, "Take those things back.  Don't give them anything!" to thunderous applause.   

The group touted a strike as "the only option left" and a chance to cripple the entertainment industry in revenge for decades of "abuse."  Having happily been on the receiving end of this "abuse" for many years, I can safely say that the average working stiff in America probably has a better idea of what it means to have a bad boss than we do.  Not having a limo to drive you to the set or a professional grade cappuccino machine in your studio-provided office does not count as a crime against humanity in my book.

Let's have a reality check for a moment.  As I previously stated, the average screenwriter earns $200,000 per year (many earn several million per year).  On top of their initial pay for their services, Hollywood writers receive rewrite fees, a lucrative cut of the box-office receipts on movies, residual payments every time a film or tv program is syndicated in rerun or on cable, a cut of DVD sales, and a host of perks like free office space and staff, expense accounts, and even a new luxury car on occasion.  By contrast, the median household income in the US last year was $48,201.00 (including two-income families).

One amusing moment in this socialist love-fest came when the union elite announced that the other Hollywood unions including the Directors Guild, the Screen Actors Guild, and IATSE support the screenwriter's "fight," but their contracts precluded their joining the writers on the picket line.  What they meant was "We're all for your 'struggle' to get another 4 cents per DVD, but some of us still have a mortgage on our beach house in Santa Barbara to pay."  However, in what I considered to be a generous move, the powerful Teamsters union offered to walk out in a sympathy strike with the writers if the writers in-turn would agree to support the Teamsters in a future strike of their own.  The room erupted with roars of dismissive laughter as if their illegal housekeeper had asked them to give her a ride back to the not-so-nice side of town euphemistically referred to as "Beverly Hills adjacent."

It's just as well though.  For their own personal safety, I don't think a bunch of tofu-eating, Chomsky-reading screenwriters want to spend months on a picket line whining about their "hard luck" to Teamster truck drivers or anyone else who lives in the real world.  On a bright note, the Screen Actors Guild later announced that it would allow its members to picket with the writers in their free time so at least the poor beleaguered writers have the prospect of picketing alongside some attractive Hollywood starlets (or at least would-be starlets).  It beats looking at a burly Teamster for 4 months, and maybe the studios can film it and fill all of that dead air time with another season of BEAUTY AND THE GEEK.  It's a hard life.

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