Anybody Gots 4 Cents for a Churro?

I am a writer. The profile on the right says so.

And I am a writer who was royally screwed by a producer a while back. While I currently don't have a dog in the hunt, I just as easily could tomorrow. Heck, it was only two months we pitched two projects to TBS.

These are all the reasons why I attended yesterday's big Writers Guild rally in front of Fox Headquarters. I'm not getting any dough from them at the moment, but you never know. And I was thinking about all the coins (albeit pennies) somebody else got for something my partner and I wrote. I had just as much right to be there as the unemployed writer next to me.

Besides, it was all within walking distance from my home. And I did have the requested attire: a "striking" red shirt. Indeed, as I approached the staging area, I was noticing quite a few Red Sox and Cardinals jerseys on the strikers. I guess that, if you're on the picket line every day, you can run out of red wardrobe pretty damn fast.

The WGA has about 12,000 members, and I believe only half of them actually get work. Nevertheless, I would figure that there were about 3,500 folks standing outside of Fox Plaza, which doubled as Nakatome Plaza in the first Die Hard movie. This was probably the biggest crowd there since Bruce Willis threw an office chair full of explosives down an elevator shaft. And, of course, I wondered to myself whether the writer of that movie has seen any residuals from the Special Edition DVD set. Probably not.

From what I quickly gathered, these folks are not looking for tons of jack. Essentially, they want 4 cents on every dollar the studios make from the so-called "new media." That's downloads, DVDs, Ipods, etc.. The studios contend that all those forums are unproven, so there is no real business model. But, coming from an arena where satellite radio and radio station streaming are emerging big time, I can tell you they are included in a business model. Over and over and over again. There are measurements out there designed to quantify how big an audience there is. Advertising dollars to follow. The writer, who is invariably getting screwed, can light a post-coital cigarette one more time. Just from our tenure as molested writers, my partner and I could see how those added extra dollars can make a difference. I remember when our representative was negotiating our deal with the n'eer-do-well producer we were working with. When your characters start to show up on videos and the internet and in books, the coins can pile up. Just not on your side of the desk.

With my red shirt, I instantly belong. Others would pump their fists at me. My immediate reaction was that I can once cut them off on the 101. But, no, it was solidarity indeed. When I got there, the first thing I noticed was a sidebar group of about 25 Asians. I assumed that animators were there to show their support. As was the Screen Actors Guild, evidenced by the sight of Kelsey Grammer breezing past me on his way for a complimentary muffin. The Chinese kid from Heroes was wielding his picket sign like a samurai sword. I had to duck twice.

As I waited for the speeches to begin, I noticed that the crowd was populated with some young people who were walking around with trays of churros, which are apparently the official snack food of the WGA. I later learned that this wait staff were really agents' assistants from CAA. I smell another strike coming. It's bad enough they have to retrieve coffee in the morning. Now, they are acting as a catering staff for a bunch of people who probably don't even have representation.

For a writers' strike, the picket sign slogans were lacking in creativity. "Repeats Suck." "Four Cents More." "Honk for Us, You Bitch." That last one was being held by a woman.

The first speaker was Reverend Jesse Jackson, who appears anywhere when somebody is holding a sign on a stick. I realized that his speech was really a boiler plate demonstration talk, which he has probably used over and over. He simply leaves the striking occupation blank. Transit unions, garbagemen, milk carriers, writers. To Jesse, they're all the same. His presence at a writer's strike is ironic, given that the only thing he could probably compose on a piece of paper is his name. Jesse walked past me on his way out and he, of course, was traveling with the requisite entourage---several bald and fat Black guys, each with a single diamond studded earring. If any of these writers actually wrote that description on a page, they would be instantly accused of drawing on an inaccurate stereotype.

One of the other speakers talked about the fact that several studios had earlier unceremoniously laid off support staffs. He urged those writers who could afford to do so pay their personal assistants out of their own pockets. This was the first note of discord I heard. Murmur, murmur, murmur. One guy standing next to me actually told his friend, "she gets paid well enough as it is."

As I looked around the crowd, I noticed that this rally was a bit of a family affair for some. Writers brought their kids along. Some walked around with tots in strollers. I figured this means that, along with studio support staffs, there will also be a lot of nannies, au peres, and housekeepers unemployed in the next several weeks. After all, now that the striking writers are home during the day...

It was cited that three Presidential candidates have come out in favor of the WGA. That would be Hillary, Barack, and John Edwards. Nothing yet from Rudy, as he is trying to figure how to work 9/11 into such a statement.

Along with the Screen Actors Guild, there was visible support also from teamsters. Now, while Letterman, Leno et. al. have stayed off the job, Ellen Degeneres has gone back to work. It's amazing that she can cry for several days on the air about a dog, but can't honor a union that she belongs to.

Norman Lear was propped up on the podium. He's still wearing that signature hat. He must have about two dozen of the same hat at home, all in different colors. He mentioned that he was around when the writers first conducted a strike against the Pharoah. About half of the audience didn't realize he was making a joke.

Throughout it all, the speakers referenced the previous WGA strikes which were all about getting residuals for video tapes and cables. The writers had caved then, but, this time, they won't. Now, the strike 20 years ago lasted almost three months. And they didn't even win? Obviously, in hindsight, it's being viewed now as a failure.

And I wondered about the outcome of this strike. Film studios won't suffer. They'll just keep producing scripts that have been stashed in their files for years. Only 15% of the movies released today are watchable. Nobody will notice. And, given that this TV season has been considered lackluster at best, where is the leverage? For every Desperate Housewives, there are five pieces of garbage like Cavemen. We already know that the networks have a whole passel of reality and game shows ready to roll. For Pete's sake, they are bringing back Password with Regis Philbin as a host. Will the completely dumbed down American TV audience notice? Will they care? Just how many toes can they shoot off the same foot? Would this be one more WGA walkout amounting to naught?

One of the CAA assistants walked by and I finally took a churro. I thought back to how badly I was treated with that project some years back. I suddenly felt entitled to that hunk of cinnamon coated dough. I walked away. A churro in one hand. A reality washing over my head. A hope still prevailing in my heart.

Good luck, folks.

Dinner last night: Baked ham sandwich at the Apple Pan.