O Lucky Man

"What's there to smile about?"
— Malcolm McDowell, O Lucky Man!

Week Two of the big fucking Writers Strike. I trudge to the picket lines, expecting the numbers to thin, but they continue to be healthy. It was packed in front of the Disney Store on Wednesday. Instead of marching, they gave me flyers to hand out. I am the worst person to hand out flyers...

Thursday, I've got 8 hours of a refresher course to wade through. Don't ge'mmee wrong, I need the refresher—I've been away from the job for over a year—but 8 hours sounds diabolical... I'll probably have to do some things that I rarely had to do in the 6+ years I was there. Bubble graphs? Italian charts?

I won't be out there, but the NYC picket location for Thursday is outside the Viacom building. Times Square, MTV, the glut of tourists who can't see the musical theater they'd been waiting to see for months because of the stagehand strike: ought to be fun.

Everyone's going on strike. The CBS newswriters are next up, having gone without a contract for years.

Hell of a way to close out the year. I am a reluctant part of history.