Writers' Strike May Go Too Far -- Say It Ain't So!

I've just learned something that has shaken me to my very core. This type of world-shattering news comes along only once in a lifetime, and I now believe I will never be the same again.


The writers' strike may have an adverse effect on...


Wait for it...


Awards shows? GASP!

I've started wearing a black armband now, just in case this actually happens. I'm trying to find a suitable-colored lapel ribbon, but all the good ones are already taken. Maybe I'll just use white, and have somebody print the Bic logo on it for me.


To think that, this year, I may have to go without surfing past Hollywood's annual parades of nobody-really-cares! It's horrible. I haven't eaten in over 12 hours. Wait... I had a peppermint candy a couple of minutes ago, but it's only 11:00a.m. and I don't eat breakfast. But I promise, right here and now, that I absolutely refuse to have an extra taco with my lunch. Solidarity is important to me, you know.

If there's no awards shows this year, how will we regular people ever find out about the goodie bags? Or who's drunk on stage? Or which rushed-to-production anti-Iraq-war movie is going to get the thumbs-up from the Hollywood paragons of hypocritic virtue? Oh the humanity!



On a related note, we here at CreTIN are working furiously (by which I mean doing virtually nothing) to see that this strike ends quickly. To show support for our fellow Knights-of-the-Word-Processor, we have been refusing to write anything. Anything at all.

As a matter of fact, I didn't even write this post.

I ain't no scab.