There are a lot of people who deserve our thanks. And the best way to thank them is to support our SAG/Aftra brothers and sisters!  

Men of Harlech, march to glory,
Victory is hov'ring o'er ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye,
Hear ye not her call?
At your sloth she seems to wonder;
Rend the sluggish bonds asunder,
Let the war-cry's deaf'ning thunder
Every foe appall.
Echoes loudly waking,
Hill and valley shaking;
'Till the sound spreads wide around,
The Saxon's courage breaking;
Your foes on every side assailing,
Forward press with heart unfailing,
'Till invaders learn with quailing,
Cambria ne'er can yield!
Thou, who noble Cambria wrongest,
Know that freedom's cause is strongest,
Freedom's courage lasts the longest,
Ending but with death!
Freedom countless hosts can scatter,
Freedom stoutest mail can shatter,
Freedom thickest walls can batter,
Fate is in her breath.
See, they now are flying!
Dead are heap'd with dying!
Over might hath triumph'd right,
Our land to foes denying;
Upon their soil we never sought them,
Love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson we have taught them,
"Cambria ne'er can yield!"

​I’m not sure. If it is, the battle between the WGA and the AMPTP has been extended, and everyone, and I mean everyone, is ready to get back to work. Now, let’s get the actors back to work with a deal that works for both parties.
 
If you are a writer, I hope you’ve used this time to do some writing. I know I have. Fool’s Gold is in the final editing stages. And you know what? I am excited. Of course, it all depends on what you all have to say, but I can’t help but feel optimistic. 
 
I do know this: AI could not have done any better!
 
This whole another novel thing was my manager’s idea. I resisted, not ready to commit to at least a  year for writing a novel. Ultimately, the answer to his question was easy. It all came down to, what else do I have going on during this strike? .
 
It’s all a matter of commitment. That’s the hard part. Putting it all on the line with a promise to yourself  that you will buckle down and do the work. Once you do, the rest of it is easy.
 
The story was already a  fully developed screenplay, so at least I had an outline. Then, it all came down to investing the time. Was I willing to dedicate what was required in order  to hammer out a first draft? Well, I was, and in the words of George Bush, “Mission Accomplished!”
 
The plan is to have it ready for preorder by the beginning of November, with sales starting just in time for the holidays in December. 
 
Anyway, I will keep you all posted. 

As of today, three of the four I mentioned in my last blog, have decided not to go forward with their shows until the strikes have been reverted. They have paid their debt and their pictures have been removed from the site. 
 
Bill, Drew and the cast of The Talk, thank you! 

A VERY SPECIAL BLOG POST
 
In lieu of my usual commentary, I present a very special blog post. I hope you enjoy.
 
THE SCABS

​Isn’t this the movie featuring stars George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez locked in a trunk? Nope. It’s the 4-month long catastrophe known as the WGA strike. Although, at this point, it is an inspirational idea. Perhaps we will get some kind of resolution if we lock the two sides in the back of a Honda Civic.
 
In the words of Kirk Douglas from In Harm’s Way, “we got ourselves a real gut-bustin,’ ever-lovin’ Union War.” 
 
I recently attended a mixer of WGA and pre-WGA writers, assistants, and actors.   Where I attempted to break the ice with my Lord of the Rings/picketing analogy. Writers are like the no-nonsense, brooding elves, while the singing/dancing and enthusiastic actors are like the elves (the AMPTP being the Sauron and their offices being the land or Mordor). This writer looked me dead in the eye and said, “You try this shit for over a hundred days and see how you like it.” She then walked away and avoided me for the rest of the night.
 
People are angry and scared. I don’t blame them. My little joke at a mixer and the following quote doesn’t help:
 
“(Writers) kind of believe that you’re owed a living as a writer, and you’re not. This is Show business. This is make-or-miss league.”
 
Exactly the words I expect to hear from an old man, standing in his front yard while children attempt to get their ball back.”
 
I think people on both sides are getting touchy. And with good reason. A person’s livelihood is no joking matter. Like every other problem surrounding us as a nation, this is not a clear-cut black-and-white issue. There’s a hell of a lot of gray in here. People on both sides just have to be smart enough to see it.

It’s Labor Day Weekend. A time for union picnics, politicking, and reminiscing about the one-time national spokesman for the holiday, a man who needs no further introduction, Mister Telethon himself, Jerry Lewis!  
 
This master of mirth, considered a genius in France, had no shortage of opinions. Too bad, most were sexist, racist, and downright distasteful.
 
So, let’s take a fond look back at some of his more memorable quotes, realizing full well that he was a child abuser (he beat his boys once with a toy snake), a serial fondler (many women in his 60s films have confirmed it, and a cruel miser who left nothing to a longsuffering wife and children.
 
                                                     On His Kids:
 
“What did he get for breakfast? A little Ritalin never hurt any kid.”
 
“Pity? You don’t want to be pitied because you’re a cripple in a wheelchair? Stay in your house!”
 
“My kids cannot go into the workplace. There’s nothing they can do.”
 
                                                On J.F.K.
 
“One of the great cuntmen of all time.”
 
                                           On Women Comedians:
 
“Women doing comedy bothers me.”
 
                                         On Stereotypes:
 
“How do Chinese people pick out their names? They hold a silver platter and throw spoons up into the air. When they land – “Ching Chong Ding Dong!!!”
 
                                         On Miami:
 
“Miami sucks. The people here know from nothing. They know shit, and they know fuck, and anything else is out of their league.”
 
                                     And one more for his “kids.”
 
“If you do anything to hurt my kids, I’ll have you killed. Do you understand?”
 
                                 Jerry Lewis: As funny in hell as he was on Earth.

 Hey, it's easy getting down in the dumps. Often times, after perusing the news, the fires, the current political scene, and the AMPTP’s current offer, I feel so bad I feel I need to visit my local McDonald’s to purchase an exclusive end times On the Beach Happy Meal. Each box, decorated in a startling black and white, and featuring a meal of Chicken McNuggets, fries or carrot sticks, fruit juice, and your choice between an Ava Gardner, Gregory Peck, Anthony Perkins, or Fred Astaire Action Figure. If so inclined, I'd purchase the small, child’s meal solely for the little white pill they include for when things become too much. Don’t freak out, I just want to get all the pills because I am a serious collector.

And I never would because:

     There is always something to live for! Happiness and joy can be found all around. And here's a little something that has given me great joy.

Having just spoken to the troops on the front lines and the mixer at a local brew pub, I can tell you that overall morale is good. The WGA and their partners at SAG/AFTA will win this battle. And I can tell you why:
 
They are right!
 
I arrived at Disney Studios in Burbank about an hour early and forded the first Rubicon quickly: Finding a place to park. 
 
Buoyed by my success, I promptly signed in at the table and had a quick chat with Jake.  100-plus days, and Jake’s mood remained friendly yet determined. Waiting for others, I grabbed a sign and stationed myself at one end of the entrance. Several supportive honks later, I received my first drive-by heckle. 
 
“Get back to work!”
 
I only wish it was that easy but appreciated the support. At five minutes till nine, I began my vigil, cocking my sign over my shoulder for my first trip around the studio. Like Joshua bringing down the walls of Jericho, I was going to bring the entire Mouse House down to its knees. 
 
Fifteen-plus minutes later, I had completed my first trip. I celebrated with some hydration and found that reinforcements had arrived. Now, I was part of something, and we headed around for a second time. 
 
Precisely halfway through the second trip, SAG/AFTRA had arrived at the south entrance, the LOTR elves to the WGA dwarves. Happy, singing, chanting, they it was like temporarily stepping into a fleeting Lothlorien that lasted less than a block. Still, the captains shouted their encouragement and showered me with gifts of boxes of water and candy. 
 
Completing my second trip, I hydrated again, stopping briefly in the shade to enjoy the antics of the skateboarding Mandalorian and the actor who voices Donald Duck before taking my third trip. 
 
Kids had arrived, along with dogs and bicyclists with sound systems. It was Ace in the Hole without a guy dying in the cave, and the overall atmosphere had risen along with the temperature. 
 
Team Captains from both unions urged hydration, and with the temperature rising above eighty degrees, I gladly took them up on the offer. Each half-lap was celebrated by more and more water, and as quickly it was consumed, seep out of my skin. 
 
“Pizza has arrived.” 
 
Like orange slices handed out to runners at a marathon, “za” was handed out to strikers. The other free goodies deployed soft-serve ice cream, iced coffee, and shaved ice.  
 
Before 11:30, I had closed all three rings on my Apple watch and had the pulsating sore feet to prove it. Thank goodness for orthopedic shoes. 
 
But seriously, folks:
 
Kudos to the men and women from both unions who do their part daily, weekly, and even monthly. We owe them a debt. These people all know what is at stake and are more than willing to do their part to ensure a fair agreement. 
 
A decent livelihood is at stake here. Both Unions know this and need you to know it as well.

​I will be gone this weekend, stopping in Los Angeles long enough to stick it to the man, I mean mouse, at the Walt Disney Studios. Rest assured, I will be whistling while I strike, and I swear I will give you a complete account upon my return.