What I'll miss when the strike is over

Marching in the wind at 20th and being sprayed by the fountain along Pico for three hours a day.

Incessant honking. It was like driving in Mexico City.

That guy at 20th getting the cars to honk. I saw him at the Shrine and was surprised. I didn’t realize he was a writer. I just thought this was his job and that if Ralph’s markets go on strike he’ll be standing on Ventura Blvd. trying to get you to honk for that.

Reading Nikki Finke’s blog. Sure I could still read it, but now it’ll just be show biz news – Who got fired at New Line? Which agent is switching tenpercenteries? Who the fuck cares?

Those inspired videos from the LATE NIGHT writers. Why can’t LATE NIGHT be as funny?

Hanging out on line with my good buddy Elvis Costello. It was one of the greatest minutes of my life.

Getting into a fender bender with another writer. Exchanging insurance information and credits.

The actors’ support and show of solidarity, which is the only way any of us will ever get anything from these mega conglomerates.

Those idiots with the bullhorns trying to lead us in chants. They’d start out so enthusiastic. Then, after ten minutes of blank stares they’d say “fuck it” and go back to the car.

Being interviewed by the BBC. Disappointed that it was about the strike and not my views on the monarchy but still.

Seeing my neighbor for the first time in years. She had a pool put in? Really? Where was I?

Being asked by every person not in the business: “When is the strike going to end?” As if I knew.

I kept saying January. I was only off by a month (assuming we ratify the deal. If not, I was off by six months.).

Emailing members of the negotiating committee for updates and having them always promptly respond. Even if the news wasn’t good.

The plunge in TV ratings. AMERICAN GLADIATORS was not enough to save the entire industry.

Marching one day with each of my kids. Who needs to play catch with your son or treat your daughter to a Broadway show when you can stick picket signs in their hands and make them walk in circles with you for four hours?

Hosting a weekly radio show on KABC and knowing I was the highest paid writer in America.

Peeing at the Rancho Park clubhouse.

Free Alicia Keyes concerts.

Seeing people I hadn’t seen since the last strike. And aging better than at least two of them!

Having something to write about in my blog.

Members of the old guard. For four months these veterans of the industry --writers of many of your all-time favorite TV shows and movies and now unemployable – had a purpose. For four months they were just as important as Judd Apatow and Carlton Cuse. They marched in the rain and cold (and in New York – the snow) for benefits they’ll never see. I wish among all the standing ovations Saturday night at the Shrine there was one for these talented men and women to whom we owe so much.

It was fun to hear them tell stories. It was sort of like Radford Danny Rose.

Shutting down the Golden Globes.

And finally...

Marching with Richie, Katherine, Allan, Howard, Bob, Bobby, the Northwestern mafia, the staff of EARL, Andrea, Charlotte, the guys from FRASIER, Tom, Treva, David, David, David, David, David, and of course, Dave.