Short Thoughts On Strike!: Day Eight

Technically it's just the sixth day on the picket lines, but the strike was certainly continuing through the weekend (I sure as heck wasn't writing; hard to do that in a collapsed/horizontal state), so I'm counting today as Day Eight. When the numbers and days are finally tallied at the end of this thing, it'll be the days out that count, not the days standing and walking in a circle. So eight it is.
Today was "Bring Your Kid To The Strike Day", since schools were out for Veteran's Day. I brought my 7-year-old with me, and I've got to admit, we were pretty sure she wouldn't make it through the four-hour shift. She's got a strong attention span, but a weak constitution for endurance activities, and walking in circles on a street corner is certainly that. Yet she not only made it through the four hours with flying colors, but was easily the most energetic out of all of us.

She even made her own little signs, most of which either made little sense or overstated the point somewhat ("Boo Warner Brothers, Yaay My Dad", "Writers make the TV Shows, So Give Us The Green Stuff (but not green beans)!" and so forth). She did manage to turn one car away with a combination adorable pout/evil scowl that she turned on and off depending on the occasion. Quite the actress.
The Burbank PD said we could use musical instruments until the first non-studio noise complaint came in. One of the ER writer/producers had been to the music store over the weekend and purchased some fine instruments, including concert-level cowbells and woodblocks (now made out of resin, interestingly enough), and we went to town. My daughter was on a cowbell, I took a block, and along with four others we tramped up and down the studio wall along Pass Avenue, feet away from the executive offices. Fortunately, we had earplugs. Double fortunately, the executives did not.
An hour later, the first complaint came in, and the cops (very nicely) shut us down. From then on in, it was just our voices, but the damage was done. Three people leaving the lot told us their bosses had them go home for the day since they couldn't get any actual work done, anyway. See? We're liberators!
Met a fellow out on the line who had been responsible for designing the American version of Deal Or No Deal. When it came time to put it on NBC, he was cut out of the process. He basically made the show what it was, created the format that put NBC back on the map, then bye-bye.

Thing is, he didn't even seem all that bitter about it which is probably the harshest part of all. When you've come to expect getting screwed, it's somehow worse than the screwing itself.

For anyone still wondering if this "new media" thing can actually make the studios money, or if the writers are just babbling about invisible profits, check this out:

A little more vitriol from the passing cars today, I noticed. We're still getting a lot of honking and much support and love, but the incidents of jeers and shouts of "assholes!" has increased. Noticed five today, pretty much equaling the total from last week combined. I don't imagine that's going to get much better soon.
Last week, picket shifts were 9AM - 1PM and 1PM to 5PM. I took the early shift, mainly 'cause many of my friends were on it, too, and I'd rather be home when my daughter's home. This week, we're making an active attempt to stop Teamsters from crossing into work in the morning, should they so choose to honor the line, so the shifts have become 6AM - 10AM and 10AM to 2PM. But since I live a good 45 minutes from the studios... Yeah, I've taken the late shift. Better for everyone.

Writer rock-star sighting/meeting today: Phil Alden Robinson came around in his capacity as an Academy Board Member and shook everyone's hand. We built it, he came. Cool.
Tomorrow is Bring A Celebrity To The Strike Day. All of the showrunners will be trotting out their casts and walking along for much photo-op joy. I think someone else already pointed this out, but I agree: If I lived in Kansas and had any urge to see movie stars, I'd get my ass on a plane and pick up a picket sign. It's the place to be these days.

Are they going to keep up with these themes after this week? Kid Day, Star Day, and this Friday is I'm not kidding Battlestar Galactica Day. Seems there's a big BG convention in town, and there's nothing like angry fanboys/girls to get the blood going. They'll be marching in solidarity, at Universal, I believe. I expect much snarling and rending of latex.
Somewhere around noon, a gigantic Vitamin Water truck pulled up and started dispensing free Vitamin Water to the strikers. The way we descended upon this thing, you'd think we were in the middle of Africa on a UN food-drop location. The truck had gigantic speakers mounted to the top, and the driver, who could have sat in for Wolfman Jack back in the day, was exhorting us to keep going, to stand strong, to rehydrate ourselves, to stick it to the man, to fight the good fight, to keep upright with the power of vitamins and water in one tasty beverage, and so forth. Those who weren't already hooked on Vitamin Water were rapidly converted. Genius.
Finally, there's this:
As I put my daughter to bed tonight, she asked if she could come out and strike with me another day. I told her that I didn't think there'd be another day anytime soon when she'd be out of school and I'd be out on the picket lines.
"What about before Christmas?" she asked.
"That's possible," I said, "but hopefully this'll be over way before then. Maybe we can make a deal."
"That'd be good," she said. "Walking around out there is a lot harder than writing, huh?"
From the mouths of second graders...
More tomorrow.
emg