Turducken Nation

You know what time it is.

Fucking Turducken Time, bitches.

A de-boned chicken stuffed into a de-boned duck, stuffed into a de-boned turkey. Sounds like a Clive Barker monstrosity. A Hellraiser Thanksgiving Special. A tryptophan IED, ready to decimate entire families. And one day, I'm determined to try it...

What a strange time to go back to the day job grind. The week of Thanksgiving. Hope it's less intense, but I've got no idea what to expect. I'm gonna be focused on getting to work on time. Pen & paper, books, magazines, assuming I won't have internet access. (Not expecting email access either, btw.) Steering clear of breaks and probably gonna stick with abbreviated lunches, too. Low profile is how I want to try to keep this. Just doing what I need to do here.

Negotiations are finally going to resume between the AMPTP and the WGA next week. I'd like to keep positive about it, but I'm not expecting any swift resolution. As far as I've read and heard, the other side hasn't seriously negotiated up to now...

Saturday Night Live staff has apparently been fired. There's going to be a lot of that, in TV Land. Hopefully, it'll all be short-lived.

My biggest concern remains getting my career back on its legs once the strike blows over. Writing's been tough-going, but I'm keeping at this thing.

"Maybe you should try not watching every fucking thing on television," suggested the Average Frustrated Raccoon. "I mean, really..."

Monday mourning. We meet again.