Jerry O'Connell hosted an "alcohol-fueled" party to celebrate the
end of the long-ass writers' strike. Woot, woot — right? Five hundred people and $20,000 worth of neighborhood property damage later, O'Connell finds himself in deep shite for, like you know, just giving everyone a good time.
The writers are striking! The writers are striking! And it's becoming increasingly apparent that the only way to end the dispute is with a pair of magical penny scissors. So can we bibbidi-bobbidi-get on it already?
To support the Hollywood writers, all the
piano-playing felines,
skateboarding canines,
hand-holding otters, and
dramatic chipmunks across the net have quit their antics and gone on strike, too. They won't showcase their skillz, and even worse, they've cut the drama. All joy is on hold.
As
the strike drags on, we must ask: Without writers, will our beloved television programs be reduced to the "unscripted" reality we see on
The Hills? Will the exchange of single syllable sentences and long, awkward stares in pointless directions drive our favorite plot lines? Whatever.
Everyone's freaking out about the
Hollywood Writers' Strike and production on certain shows has come to a halt, but why can't the actors hold their own and improv a little? They're all supposed to be "in character" anyway. How much unscripted damage could they really do?
