Sympathy for the Devil.

"Pleased to meet you... hope you guess my name, and what's troubling you is the nature of my game,"?-now that could be either a coo from Mick Jagger or an orientation line from reality television producer; for a few industry outsiders, its devilish intent is one in the same.?

Hollywood does not feel like a good place lately, and we're all hitting that "skip" button when P.Diddy plays. I guess it really was all about the Benjamins.

It seems like last year's strikes used up all of what little goodwill the industry had tucked under Burbank. I remember championing the WGA as it directly challenged the mighty goliath of studio greed. We were all collectively outraged when Universal trimmed the trees so the picket lines could roast in the valley sun. Although, in hindsight, you have to appreciate that GOT-style maneuver. But we loved the writers. They represented all that was good within television. This was a pure black &?white cause to follow. Good vs. Evil. Greed vs. Talent. Lovable nerds vs. "that guy who did a bunch of yay in Die Hard."

Then the actors jumped in on the cause. We gave them golf claps... they were raring to go... but they could be a little, well, dramatic. But their intentions were good and A.I. was an eleven fingered loser. The unions took on the monster, and they won! The good guys triumphed. We savored in those good feelings as we carved our Thanksgiving turkeys. Those credit cards would only have to melt through the holidays, then we can work on our FICO score. We all felt like a new horizon was upon us -the war was over, and only good times lay ahead.?

But then, somehow, by the dawn of 2024... all that virtue seemed to change.?

Almost overnight, Hollywood transformed into something that was unwanted ugly, tricky and grotesque. An unsavory bedfellow that will bamboozle you though a 65 inch plasma screen.

Some outside the industry -the ones who partake in unwavering political ideologies, compare us to black-hatted villains; twisting our pencil-thin mustaches as we prepare to run them over with the train of unpalatable content.?

Yet, ironically, many amongst us are experiencing a pain unlike they've ever felt before. Parents trying to put food on the table. Award winners terrified about keeping a roof over their head. Desperate job seekers who have their index fingers glued to the refresh button on job boards.

We were hurting, but that information was only shared amongst our most trusted colleagues. The unemployment crisis continued to worsen as winter thawed into spring. But the support for industry workers only remained internal. We could tell each other about the pain, but outside out little bubble of tinsel, the rest of the world just didn't seem to care.

Some relished in our industry demise: "Go sell your second home!" "You deserve what you get!" "Why don't you just get another job like the rest of us!" "Go Woke, Go Broke" (x1000 by the clone of some ruddy, Under Armour doughball). There are plenty of other highlights from the éclat-o-commentary. Some funny, most deranged, but I'll spare you the details. This vitriol was only mega-charged by the recent release of MAX's "Quiet on Set." As far as the outside world was concerned, Hollywood is was finally unmasked and its true evil identity revealed -like a Scooby Doo episode! The details of the perverted innerworkings of television were finally exposed... by a 4-part television show that just happened to be produced, written and edited by... us.?

I knew some wouldn't share our sympathy, but I didn't want it to be like this. I mean, one could even argue that devil was also once an angel who was just cast out of heaven. So voila, here we are, for some our colleagues, each of these days are a living hell.?

I even started to feel like I actually deserved the rebuke. ?Even though I had written the major news outlets daily, no one outside of LA was biting on the story. I tried to flag down the state, but not a peep from Sacramento. I've worked the room over and over, hat and hand, while the eyeballs glanced the other way. Maybe the juice of trying just wasn't worth the squeeze anymore.?

It was only last night when I realized I must've dozed off in the middle of a movie... but then I just happened to come to in the final moments of the film. I rubbed my eyes again, just in time for the credits to start rolling. I sat up and started reading the names, along with their titles. Set Medic, Scuba Team, Everyone in VFX, Editors, Gaffers, Grips, Best Boy, Best Girl... and, they had 3 Welders? Interesting. Assistants, Drivers, Accountants... these were all real people. Each one of them with a soul, a story, dreams and aspirations.

I wondered what they were all doing now and the troubles they all might be facing. These are good people just trying to make an honest living. There's honor in that. And even though there might not be sympathy for the devil... perhaps, maybe, we could muster up a little empathy for him.?