Deal

So the Directors Guild has cut a deal with the AMPTP in what seemed to take about twenty minutes at the nearest Starbucks. This is an innately good thing. The Strike has accomplished what it set out to achieve -- it prevented us from having to watch the Golden Globes -- and now we can all move on to make scads of money with movie options and the forthcoming spec script bonanaza. If the WGA is willing to use the DGA's contract as boilerplate -- which basically everybody with a brain and a Final Draft CD is hoping it will -- then America's dream factory can get back to work sooner rather than later, drinking coffee and producing diluted but lucrative turds o' genius.

Meanwhile I continue to consult on scriptwork and frankly, there's no way that any kind of lingering left-coast standstill can be good for anybody. So, before I dive back into my own little project at hand, let us raise our glasses to David (ALIEN 3) Fincher and the rest of America's fine, fine directors and hope that their clear-minded fairness and sense of balance will extend itself over to the alcohol-sodden self-loathing masses of writers everywhere.

Cheers.