The Writers' Strike
Okay, so I'm upset about the writers' strike, you know the Hollywood one? The one no one is talking about even though it means that we will be exposed to more shows like American Gladiator and Celebrity Rehab. I love TV so no new episodes of House M.D. or CSI irks me. This is especially so since Santa, battered by constant nagging and passive-aggressive comments, gave me a PVR for Christmas. A PVR! I can tape things while I am watching other recorded things, recording involves a process that my four-year-old can grasp, and I can pause live TV. But what is the point when all that is on the tube is garbage and repeats.
Of course, this is not all about me. The writers have the right to strike and they deserve a piece of the Internet pie they are looking for. All writers have to stand up and protect our right in the new digital age. But that doesn't make it any easier. And I'm confused about the side deals the Writers Guild of America is making. The union has made deals and have gone back to work at the David Letterman Show and just completed another side deal with Tom Cruise's production company. I find this odd because it means that certain companies or subsections of them can now make money without the whole strike being settled and certain union members can go back to work while the rest stay out on the lines. It's like if NAPE went on strike but certain hospitals and government departments made deals with their employees while the others had to stay on strike. Aren't unions about solidarity?
Then yesterday I hear what I feared most. The Golden Globes have been cancelled. I like awards shows but I love the Golden Globes. They are what all award shows should be. Celebs sit at tables and eat and, most importantly to the atmosphere of the ceremony, drink. They lubricate their voices and their demeanours so by the time they get up to accept their awards you don't know what will come out of their mouths. When Christine Lahti was in the bathroom while her name was called and Robin Williams filled the time as only he can until she came out, that was the Golden Globes. When Jack Nicholson bent over and talked out of his ass, that was the Golden Globes. They are fun and relaxed and the unboring alternative to award shows like The Academy Awards. But this year, because of the proposed picket line outside the awards, The Golden Globes will consist of a news conference where the winners are announced. This makes me sad. Not as sad as the people nominated for awards that won't get their thirty seconds in the sun, but sad nonetheless.
And speaking of sad, last night CBS aired The People Choice Awards. This is the worst award show anyway because winners are notified ahead of time so you can tell in the opening credits, when they announce who will be there, who has won and who has lost (the losers never go). But last night Queen Latifah "hosted". This meant her standing in a room that was empty except for her and some video screens where she announced winners and showed either taped acceptance speeches from them (such as Joaqin Phoenix) or showed old acceptance speeches from years gone by. I know this because, out of curiosity, I turned it on for a couple of minutes then chose watching my fingernails grow instead. I can only hope that the Golden Globes News Conference will not be quite as boring as that, although all hope is fading.