This was post on whedonesque.com. It's by Joss Whedon (my Buffy, Angel, Firefly creator boyfriend.) So pretty sure it's still on and will be for awhile. (Deb and I were just discussing...) Stupid freakin studio bigwigs... I want my shows back!
We're a week away from Mutant Enemy Picket day! Since the AMPTP have generously offered us a thimble of sputum in exchange for everything written ever, I think it's fair to say it won't be a picnic.
And in two weeks, I'll be in Boston, speechifying (look for some long, fancy words, yo) and rallying shoulder to shoulder with, among other people, my dad, who somehow lived through both the '88 strike and my adolescence. Word. (Long fancy.)
And after that? Well, we might take this to the streets of some other cities. Get the word out, remind everyone that corporate greed (it's nothing but) is hurting everyone in this country. Not just because they're robbing people of entertainment (and, on occasion, art) and strangling an entire (non-writing) community, but because they're sending a message to every union in the country: you're next. The actors know that in their case, it's literally true, but it's also true for the concept of a unionized workforce. We get a lot of flack for being well-fed, glamorous, rich and powerful. We've worked hard to dispel that stereotype but in fact, a select few of us are wealthy and influential. And we have the support of some of the most famous and beloved (and wealthy and influential) people in the country: TV and movie stars! So the fact that the studios feel perfectly comfortable SPITTING IN OUR FACES in front of the whole world cannot bode well for any other union that works under them -- or under anyone who sees how easy it is to deny the basic rights of workers even so public as we. This is bad for writers, bad for actors, teamsters, teachers, nurses, dockworkers... the shape of this country is changing. The middle class is being squeezed out. We're trundling back to the middle ages, people, and all we can do is lie there and take it.
But of course, that's not what's going to happen. The studios mean to starve us out. They can't. We know what's at stake. We take care of our own, and those around us who aren't our own. We dig in. And eventually, if after months of deadlock we still can't make an equitable deal, you will start to see real change. Change in the way we entertain you, change in the essential structure of America's most popular export. (Unless it's corn. Is it corn?) The fact is, the studios have been robbing us for twenty years. (Actually, it's been much longer, but the statute of limitations says I should let 'em off easy.) This grotesque insult of a negotiation is the end of an era. It will be remembered as the stupidest move the conglomotainment empires ever made. WE ASKED FOR PRACTICALLY NOTHING. And they...
Something snaps. Something changes. Chaos, meet opportunity. Let them try to starve us out. We won't just survive. We will THRIVE. We're known as a creative community, and those numb f#$%ing frost-giants are about to find out we're a lot more of both than they knew.
If they come back to the table this very Tuesday next with the deal we need (and they won't), the change will still have come. The snap. The thing that broke, that can't be fixed. The eye, still wincing from the light, but finally wide open.
Good going, guys! Way to think it through.
A long while ago, I remember logging on with the intention of making jokes and spreading joy. Apparently, the thing that's broken is me. Apologies. I even forgot to complain about my cold.
Thanks for being here. See you soon.
We're a week away from Mutant Enemy Picket day! Since the AMPTP have generously offered us a thimble of sputum in exchange for everything written ever, I think it's fair to say it won't be a picnic.
And in two weeks, I'll be in Boston, speechifying (look for some long, fancy words, yo) and rallying shoulder to shoulder with, among other people, my dad, who somehow lived through both the '88 strike and my adolescence. Word. (Long fancy.)
And after that? Well, we might take this to the streets of some other cities. Get the word out, remind everyone that corporate greed (it's nothing but) is hurting everyone in this country. Not just because they're robbing people of entertainment (and, on occasion, art) and strangling an entire (non-writing) community, but because they're sending a message to every union in the country: you're next. The actors know that in their case, it's literally true, but it's also true for the concept of a unionized workforce. We get a lot of flack for being well-fed, glamorous, rich and powerful. We've worked hard to dispel that stereotype but in fact, a select few of us are wealthy and influential. And we have the support of some of the most famous and beloved (and wealthy and influential) people in the country: TV and movie stars! So the fact that the studios feel perfectly comfortable SPITTING IN OUR FACES in front of the whole world cannot bode well for any other union that works under them -- or under anyone who sees how easy it is to deny the basic rights of workers even so public as we. This is bad for writers, bad for actors, teamsters, teachers, nurses, dockworkers... the shape of this country is changing. The middle class is being squeezed out. We're trundling back to the middle ages, people, and all we can do is lie there and take it.
But of course, that's not what's going to happen. The studios mean to starve us out. They can't. We know what's at stake. We take care of our own, and those around us who aren't our own. We dig in. And eventually, if after months of deadlock we still can't make an equitable deal, you will start to see real change. Change in the way we entertain you, change in the essential structure of America's most popular export. (Unless it's corn. Is it corn?) The fact is, the studios have been robbing us for twenty years. (Actually, it's been much longer, but the statute of limitations says I should let 'em off easy.) This grotesque insult of a negotiation is the end of an era. It will be remembered as the stupidest move the conglomotainment empires ever made. WE ASKED FOR PRACTICALLY NOTHING. And they...
Something snaps. Something changes. Chaos, meet opportunity. Let them try to starve us out. We won't just survive. We will THRIVE. We're known as a creative community, and those numb f#$%ing frost-giants are about to find out we're a lot more of both than they knew.
If they come back to the table this very Tuesday next with the deal we need (and they won't), the change will still have come. The snap. The thing that broke, that can't be fixed. The eye, still wincing from the light, but finally wide open.
Good going, guys! Way to think it through.
A long while ago, I remember logging on with the intention of making jokes and spreading joy. Apparently, the thing that's broken is me. Apologies. I even forgot to complain about my cold.
Thanks for being here. See you soon.
2 comments:
ugh! get this over with, we cannot fill the TV with only reality TV! although I do love me some reality TV- but I also enjoy writing. thanks for keeping me in the loop.
Good year to catch up on my reading. Wish I had a union. I'd definitely have better benefits.
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