REASON #11507

LETTERS TO HOLLYWOOD

Dear Hollywood,

A few years back, a popular satirical newspaper (I think it was the "New York Post") made light of the fact that many of today's hobbies were yesterday's means of survival. Things like knitting, gardening, baking bread, canning food, etc, that may seem like a perfect lark to those of us who watch way too much "Martha," were once all that separated our forefathers/mothers from a little grave on the prairie.

In other words, they weren't puttin' up watermelon pickles a-cause it were such a hoot. They were doing it so they could eat in six months.

So today we do these sort of things, mostly because we have too much damn time on our hands. But maybe, just maybe, we also do them to prove to ourselves, "We can do this too. We're still Americans. We're still pioneers. We have that spirit in us."

We're mostly wrong about that, of course.

Today was the first day of picketing, Hollywood. I did my five hours and change for the cause, walking around in a circle, holding my sign aloft and chanting things like, "Hey hey, ho ho."

People shouted slogans through megaphones, leaflets were distributed, people who were trying to get in or away from their place of business were impeded, and...It was a strike, all right. Just like you see in the movies. Just like you see on the TV.

A strike like every strike in the history of strikes.

It all felt...Quaint? Old timey? Anachronistic? I'll take all three for the trifecta. I know why we're striking, but ultimately, I don't know why we're striking. Do these things work? Have these things ever worked?

Do they only work when the people striking perform an essential service, like waste removal or teaching our children? Or do they work when the people striking are alerting the world to their horrible working conditions?

We writers perform a service, but it's not essential. We aren't being treated fairly, but we're not losing limbs in the ol' industrial press.

Today on the picket line, a very earnest young woman approached our group, and chastised us for not blocking cars as long as we could. Each car could be legally stopped for 15 seconds, in order to drive our point home.

As I stood there with my sign, my red shirt, and my tired, slothful legs, being dressed down for not striking well enough, I had a genuine "WTF?" moment.

So we all march and chant this week. WTF happens next week? WTF happens the week after that? WTF happens next month, next year?

Do we all keep marching and chanting? Will it have the same impact? Or will it just become a thing that people acknowledge, adjust to, and then flat out ignore? And how long will that process take?

I remember the first time a homeless guy asked me for money. I was 17 or 18. I gave him money, chatted with him for a few minutes, and it stayed with me for the rest of the day. This happened a few more times, until I realized that I can't give every homeless dude money. But I would at least give them a nod. Then after a week, I stopped nodding.

The whole process maybe took two weeks.

Maybe I'm an inhuman monster, Hollywood. If so, then I'm in the right business. (Ba-Zing!)

Ultimately, I hope that what we're doing does some good. I hope we don't pull a fast fade from the collective conscious. I hope we're marching and chanting because marching and chanting does something. I hope we're not doing all of this just because the folks on the front lines think, "We can do this too. We're still Americans. We're still pioneers. We have that spirit in us."

I hope we're putting up watermelon pickles so we can eat in six months, Hollywood.

As Ever,

Josh A. Cagan