I’m not sure which is worse: the smell of stinky armpits or the odor of caged animals. Ugh, every three years, the writers and producers who occupy the same pen known as Hollywood act like monkeys flinging their feces against the walls. Both sides make menacing noises to indicate they’re going to bite the hands that feed them.

They don’t care that the last WGA strike, in 1988, dragged on for 22 weeks and dragged down the Industry by a half-billion bucks. If that happens again, then I say drag everyone away from the bargaining table and put them in the same padded cell.