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Ahaha. SAG is now calling for a strike authorization from the membership. You know, because making $200,000 per episode just isn't enough. And yes, I know that most actors don't earn that much, but those yeoman actors aren't going to be the public face of a SAG strike. In fact, they're going to be the first casualties, along with the BTLers who drag ass to the set at ass o'clock in the morning to make sure the actors look good. This is yet another case of the Haves not being satisfied with having more than their neighbors and standing on the heads of the less fortunate to get one more piece of a pie they cannot possibly eat.
The actors who only work once every year for five minutes aren't going to benefit from a strike. They'll muddle along as they always do, making ends meet by waiting tables and walking JLo's dogs down Rodeo Drive. The rich are going to get richer, and the poor are just going to take it up the ass again while someone tells them that the pain is for the best, the hallowed greater good.
Yeehaw.
I don't want to hear how hard it is to live the L.A. lifestyle on $200,000 an episode. Are you honestly telling me that you can't live safely and comfortably, a phrase which here means live with a roof over your head, food on the table, electricity, access to a doctor, and access to some form of transportation, for $200,000 a week for twenty-three weeks a year?
Really?
If you can't, then you're doing it wrong. Millions of people who make less than $40,000 a year manage to make a life for themselves. It's not a glamorous life, by any means, but they're not squatting on the sidewalk in front of Starbucks, emaciated and begging to turn tricks for a sip from the dregs of a passing stranger's coffee. I live well below the federal poverty line, and I still manage to eat and keep an apartment and get where I need to go. I have no health insurance beyond the joke that is Medicare, it's true, but that's because most insurance companies refuse folks with disabilities on the grounds that we might actually use the service they offer. Roomie and I make it on half of what the federal government mandates as the bare minimum for a two-person home.
So why should I weep for an entitled asshole who earns almost $4 million dollars a year and dares to call himself underpaid?
I shouldn't, and I won't, and I doubt that the millions of middle-class and lower-middle-class folks who've watched their life savings evaporate into the pitiless maw of Wall St. are going to shed many tears, either. Not when many of them are faced with losing everything they've worked for for ten, twenty, thirty years. Fifty.
I have zero sympathy for SAG leadership and only marginally more for the SAG rank and file. All of them are so grossly out of touch with reality as it exists in the rest of the country that it would be funny if it weren't so sad.
The best part of this strike authorization call is that it could take forty-five days for the call to go out and another three weeks for the votes to be counted. So, they're asking their membership to authorize a strike just before the holidays, when most folks are stretched to the limit emotionally and financially. And they're asking them to go on strike just as the Christmas bills come due. They're asking this in an economic climate one step removed from utter meltdown.
All while Alan Rosenberg sits pretty on his wife's handy nest egg of $6 million dollars from her gig on CSI.
Good luck getting the requisite seventy-five percent needed to call a strike, Mr. Marg.
The best I can hope for as a viewer about to get shafted for the second consecutive season is that a strike drowns the godawful DL arc in its infernal infancy. Then I can say that a meager iota of good dribbled out of this wretched, ill-fated dick joust like a cool drop of ambrosia from a pus-filled rectal boil.
Some consolation.
The actors who only work once every year for five minutes aren't going to benefit from a strike. They'll muddle along as they always do, making ends meet by waiting tables and walking JLo's dogs down Rodeo Drive. The rich are going to get richer, and the poor are just going to take it up the ass again while someone tells them that the pain is for the best, the hallowed greater good.
Yeehaw.
I don't want to hear how hard it is to live the L.A. lifestyle on $200,000 an episode. Are you honestly telling me that you can't live safely and comfortably, a phrase which here means live with a roof over your head, food on the table, electricity, access to a doctor, and access to some form of transportation, for $200,000 a week for twenty-three weeks a year?
Really?
If you can't, then you're doing it wrong. Millions of people who make less than $40,000 a year manage to make a life for themselves. It's not a glamorous life, by any means, but they're not squatting on the sidewalk in front of Starbucks, emaciated and begging to turn tricks for a sip from the dregs of a passing stranger's coffee. I live well below the federal poverty line, and I still manage to eat and keep an apartment and get where I need to go. I have no health insurance beyond the joke that is Medicare, it's true, but that's because most insurance companies refuse folks with disabilities on the grounds that we might actually use the service they offer. Roomie and I make it on half of what the federal government mandates as the bare minimum for a two-person home.
So why should I weep for an entitled asshole who earns almost $4 million dollars a year and dares to call himself underpaid?
I shouldn't, and I won't, and I doubt that the millions of middle-class and lower-middle-class folks who've watched their life savings evaporate into the pitiless maw of Wall St. are going to shed many tears, either. Not when many of them are faced with losing everything they've worked for for ten, twenty, thirty years. Fifty.
I have zero sympathy for SAG leadership and only marginally more for the SAG rank and file. All of them are so grossly out of touch with reality as it exists in the rest of the country that it would be funny if it weren't so sad.
The best part of this strike authorization call is that it could take forty-five days for the call to go out and another three weeks for the votes to be counted. So, they're asking their membership to authorize a strike just before the holidays, when most folks are stretched to the limit emotionally and financially. And they're asking them to go on strike just as the Christmas bills come due. They're asking this in an economic climate one step removed from utter meltdown.
All while Alan Rosenberg sits pretty on his wife's handy nest egg of $6 million dollars from her gig on CSI.
Good luck getting the requisite seventy-five percent needed to call a strike, Mr. Marg.
The best I can hope for as a viewer about to get shafted for the second consecutive season is that a strike drowns the godawful DL arc in its infernal infancy. Then I can say that a meager iota of good dribbled out of this wretched, ill-fated dick joust like a cool drop of ambrosia from a pus-filled rectal boil.
Some consolation.
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