I'll Cross That Picket Line
In a heartbeat. I've got no problem seizing opportunity in a cut-throat industry. I'll cross that picket line and I'll be smiling. I'll carry a basket and catch all of the eggs and produce thrown at me by those striking and when I get inside I'll sit down with Leno and we'll make a salad. If there is any left I'll take it back outside and the guys with the signs can toss it. Sure, why not?
Unions are for communists. Sure, the Hollywood writers should get a healthier cut and they should get a percentage of any revenue made from their work regardless of the platform on which it is sold. I agree with it, but striking? Strikes are for people with blue collars fighting for healthcare not people in BMW's that will spend half their day off in a coffee shop.
That's why it always pisses me, and most of the free world, off when professional athletes strike. This is entertainment, people. You've got dream jobs that make you more money than the majority of people out there working nightmare gigs. You're doing alright.
This isn't a Ralph Ellison novel, this is life and you've got a job to do. You don't like it, tough, why don't you show it by building a better bridge? The crap on TV lately makes it really hard to feel sorry for anyone. How many shows are on television? Thousands? How many are worth watching? Ten? Maybe.
I'll cross that line and take your six-digit salary. I'll eat your salad and sit in your coffee shop. I'll do your job, but I'll do it better.
This is the cold war of Hollywood, and you can bang your fancy, expensive shoes on the set and scream promises of who you'll bury, but the bottom line is that your wall will come down, your bridge blown away, and while you may have a few extra dollars in your pocket you will have only shown America what they already suspected, that you are replaceable.