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PJM – I’m on Strike! (Thank God, I’ve Got a Day Job), by Roger L. Simon

Entertainment journos like Nikki Finke – who is doing a great job covering the Writers’ Strike, by the way – love to call Los Angeles a “company town” for show biz the way Washington is for politics. It’s not, really. Vastly bigger than the DC metro area, LA, city and county, is a sprawling megalopolis of nearly ten million (not counting illegals) with more Koreans than any city but Seoul and more Iranians than anywhere but Tehran. Almost half that population is of Hispanic or Latino origin. Few of these people have anything even remotely to do with Hollywood. (Well, some of the Iranians do.)

Still, the last time there was a writers’ strike (1988, 22 weeks) lots of folks lost their jobs who weren’t writers – dry cleaners, restaurant workers, you name it – all the people who service the supposedly privileged of the entertainment industry. Businesses closed down that never opened again. A strike by the 12,000- member Writers’ Guild has its consequences, especially if it runs as long as the 1988 one did.