We're now ten weeks in, and I have to say that I don't think things look very good for the writer's strike. The late night shows are back on the air and beardier than ever. The country is contemplating a canceled Oscar season, and is not happy about it. We had an understanding: citizens will be subjected to Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg and jokes written by Bruce Vilanch for one (1) six hour period per annum. It's like tossing a virgin into the volcano — a nasty business to be sure, but better than the alternative. With the telecast canceled, who knows where that banality will erupt?
I suspect--a presidential debate. Possibly the one I watched last night.
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