We interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast...

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

I went on strike today.

Really.

This is, of course, difficult to do, as I have no job. But those writers aren't like, say, the Teamsters, i.e. a big mega-union that can marshal thousands of sign-waving workers by giving a single order. No, the ranks of the Writer's Guild are thin, which is maybe why they were so grateful when I showed up to volunteer to join them in front of Universal Studios today. I held a dramatic sign with blood-colored ink...or maybe "held" is an exaggeration. For much of my (almost) two hours on the line I propped it on top of a WALK traffic pole. Universal's a good spot for this sort of thing, as not only is the company one of the chief Bad Guys, its entrance is at the junction of a freeway entrance/exit and one of the widest boulevards in the San Fernando Valley.

We strikers (unionize!) stood on opposite sides of the entrance boulevard to Universal "City", or complex, and pretty much just held the signs. Occasionally, a group would break off and march across to the other corner when the walk light turned green. The strike occasionally became noisy, but we weren't the ones getting loud; several signs asked the thousands of motorists to honk in support as they passed. An encouragingly high number did so, with some even giving us multiple blasts or whooping out the window in our general direction. A Teamster shirt-wearing guy in front of me, paraphrasing hyperactive agent Ari from the show "Entourage", had a sign reading, "Honk it out, bitch!"

There weren't many strikers when I got there (like I said, the ranks are thin). Things fattened up later; conveniently this occurred near 5 pm, which is when the second of the two-hour shifts scheduled by the union ended. Ha! Lightweights. Dedicated worker man, salt-of-God's-Earth Eric put in an entire hour and 45 minutes. Power to the People!

After which, of course, I drove to buy needed supplies like calf socks, laundry detergent and sunglasses. And, oh yeah, went to a Coffee Bean for a tea latte and some reading.

I have a feeling the union experience was vastly different in the 1930s.

Enough wordage. I'm on strike, and I'm a writer! Except, uh, I have no job and the only Evil Producer in my life at the moment is myself. But I'm gonna follow the example of my brother writers (heh, this union stuff is seeping into me) and starve Mr. Big Producer Man of fresh content for this blog. In a manner of speaking.

By the sheerest of coincidences, I've promised you, my faithful readership, details of my previous stops on the way to LA. So these re-runs will air in place of current episodes of The Life of Volkman, US Edition. Hope you find these entertaining. Of course, since they're on the Internet I won't be getting much in the way of residuals. Still, I hope you at least like the content.

Onward, workers. You have everything to lose, including your chains. Plus those large vanilla tea lattes at Coffee Bean.

MEANWHILE
My "For God's sake please give this blog a better name contest" is OVER. Naturally, we have a winner. One of you out there is going to take home the prize, and be the pride of his or her neighborhood. No, city. No, dammit...he/she/it will be the envy of his/her/its ENTIRE NATION, not to mention the Galaxy. Their family will be so proud. This huge victory will probably even find its way onto a tombstone somewhere, it's that momentous.

Okay, maybe not. But this person WILL win a nice baseball cap, colored the pleasant shade of Dodger Blue. One size fits all, so as to avoid any head trauma from an improper fit.

I'll announce the winner tomorrow (November 9). Clear your schedules and sit by the PC monitor for this oh-so-important announcement.



P.S. - Song tip - "I Want You So Hard', The Eagles of Death Metal. Funny video for the tune as well - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xe6p-5tUh3M