The Empire Strikes Back. . .

This whole Hollywood writer's strike has me at a loss for words.

Actually, no it doesn't. I can sum it up quite simply.

WHO GIVES A FLYING SACK OF MONKEY BALLS??

I watched last night for the first time, the "Caveman" show or whatever it's called. Dunno, don't care.




It was absolutely terrible. Worse than bad. ¡Es un disastre, carapicha!

The situation is so bad in Hollywood, I think I could fart in a bottle, seal it, put it in a time capsule, shoot it to Mars for our future explorers to find, who then uncap it and laugh at the noise harder than people do at today's television shows.

Oh wait, there is NO noise in a vacuum. Therefore, we can predict that Hollywood is JUST like space. Empty.

And just how many cops can David Whatshisname play before it becomes unbelievable?

David? David?

Dave f'n Caruso!

Maybe these "writers" NEED some time off. Their work is obviously suffering.

Let's do like the Democrats do: throw some money at the situation.

Obviously it's time for governmental assistance in the form of another fine, well imagined, government handout, er, program. Equal time for the television. Fairness Doctrine. We must have equal amounts of funny and unfunny on the talking box.

And it's 'bout damn time.

Now leave me alone, Sanford and Son reruns are coming on the tube.