Seaton: Writers’ Strike, The Conclusion

Note: I hope you’ve enjoyed this little deviation from my normal work into the realm of the absurd as we all deal with the fallout of entitled dipshit Hollywood writers wanting more money to keep ChatGPT from writing first drafts for network sitcoms. This is the last time I try this shit.—CLS

ONE. A final letter never sent.

SHG:

As I sit here in Los Angeles, amidst the chaotic cacophony of the 2023 Writers’ Strike, I can’t help but think of simpler times. You know, those halcyon days of yore when my only source of anxiety was meeting Friday deadlines and enduring your pointed, cantankerous critiques.

Oh, how I long for those sweet, sweet memories now. I thought I was escaping a dungeon of myopic self-reflection and commentary tyranny when I ventured into the land of palm trees and perpetual sunshine, but alas, I’ve found myself in the ninth circle of screenwriter hell. You see, it turns out this strike is far more frustrating than even your most withering remarks.

Every day, I bear witness to a parade of picket signs and megaphones, a sea of flannel shirts and artisanal coffee cups. The streets are filled with writers who, in their quest for a better deal, have left their keyboards and taken up arms, or Sharpies, as the case may be. And while their cause may be just, their ceaseless chanting is driving me to the brink of madness.

“What do we want?” “Residuals for Social Justice Streaming Platforms!” “When do we want it?” “Yesterday, but only in the ESG-friendly manner in which we seek it!”

Fuck all of these people. Their food sucks, the town is a shithole, no one understands humor, and BBQ is nonexistent out here. I’m going home.

So, in a bid for sanity and salvation, I’m returning to SJ World Headquarters to take up my duties as the blawg’s resident humorist. My pride and interest in throwing soup cans at people while high on designer drugs swallowed, I’ve packed up and am crawling back to your relentless demands in order to bask in the glow of your mean-ass aura.

But before I do, I have one small request. If I may be so bold, I humbly ask that you grant me a single boon as a token of your boundless generosity and magnanimity. You see, in my time away, I’ve grown rather fond of a particular shade of artisanal coffee, a rich, velvety blend of beans sourced from the farthest reaches of the globe.

I don’t know where these fuckers get this stuff, but I do have a name. One of the writers I refer to as “Mr. Sanctimonious” calls this stuff “Folgairs.”

So, if it’s not too much trouble, might I ask that you keep a fresh pot of this ambrosial elixir brewing in our humble office? I promise that in exchange, I will pour my heart and soul into every word I write, doing my utmost to live up to your exacting standards and surpass even your wildest expectations.

With that, I bid you adieu, SHG. I’ll see you soon, back in the loving embrace of your mean-ass editorship.

Best,
—CLS

We’ll be back with a new Sheriff Roy story next week, dear readers. In the meantime, enjoy this teaser trailer for “Antifa Friends,” a new children’s series debuting soon.
FADE IN:

EXT. CITY STREETS – DAY

We see a group of diverse and colorful puppet characters walking down the busy streets of a city. They’re wearing black clothes and carrying signs with various slogans, such as “No justice, no peace” and “Fascism has no place here.” As they walk, they sing a catchy song about fighting for justice and equality.

ANTIFA FRIENDS (singing):
We’re the Antifa friends, and we’re here to say
We won’t let hate and oppression have their way
We’re fighting for justice, we’re fighting for all
We won’t stop until every wall falls

As they continue walking, they come across a group of fascist puppets who are holding a rally. The Antifa friends decide to confront them and engage in a peaceful counter-protest.

ANTIFA FRIENDS:
Hey, hey, ho, ho
Fascism has got to go!

The fascist puppets start hurling insults and threatening violence, but the Antifa friends remain calm and use their witty humor to defuse the situation.

ANTIFA FRIENDS:
We won’t be intimidated by your hate
We’ll stand strong and we’ll never take the bait
We’re here to show that love will always win
So let’s dance and let the good times begin!

The Antifa friends start dancing and singing, and soon the fascist puppets join in too. As they dance together, they realize that they have more in common than they thought, and they start to see each other as fellow puppets rather than enemies.

ANTIFA FRIENDS (singing):
We may have different views and different ways
But we’re all just puppets in this big old play
Let’s put our differences aside and unite
For a future that is bright and full of light

FADE OUT.

End of teaser.

Cue canned applause.

This Writer’s Strike post has been brought to you by Tremfaya. Tremfaya: it’s a drug name I made up that for some reason sounds really legitimate.

Tremfaya: when you want to confuse your doctor by asking if you need to be on a medication that’s totally made up but sounds important!

Tune in next week for a brand new Sheriff Roy. In the meantime and in between time, have a great weekend!

3 thoughts on “Seaton: Writers’ Strike, The Conclusion

  1. LY

    Umm, Tremfya is a thing used for psoriasis…. Not exactly what you said but so close that most will not catch the difference. Have to dig a little deeper to come up with nonsense words for drugs that haven’t been used yet – they’re running out.

  2. Mike V.

    I have long suspected there was something in the air in California that altered brain activity in people. It sadly seems to have happened to you. A few weeks back in the Greene hills of East Tennessee should reverse the effect get you back to a sense of normal and desiring Maxwell House over those flavored coffee drinks they serve “out there.”

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