Day Zero: Hollywood C.E.O.s have had enough. The Writers Guild of America refused to leave the bargaining table even when we very clearly indicated that we didn’t want to be there anymore. That’s not just bad table manners—because we are C.E.O.s, this threatens the livelihood of our families, and also the livelihood of our second, secret families. In a unanimous vote of twelve for, zero against, the C.E.O.s have authorized a strike.
Day One: The work stoppage begins immediately. All C.E.O.s have changed their e-mail auto-responses from “I am vacationing in Moldova and will be slow to respond” to “I am vacationing in Moldova and also I’m on strike.” The people who work for us will obviously be expected to continue performing their jobs, and also we will obviously keep getting paid. Other than that, the industry will grind to a halt until our demands are met.
Day Five: No one seems to have noticed our work stoppage. We remind the public that, as long as the C.E.O. strike continues, they’ll be deprived of our exciting and original ideas, like “a subscription tier where it costs money to rewind” and “a streaming service you pay for in years off your life.”
Day Ten: C.E.O.s across the nation are honoring our work stoppage, and we didn’t even let them know that we were on strike! The police union has also shown up for us, in a heartwarming display of solidarity. The writers might be able to push around just the cops or just the C.E.O.s, but together? We might stand a chance!
Day Thirty-five: The Writers Guild continues to deploy underhanded strikebreaking tactics, such as asking us to come back to the bargaining table. They wouldn’t even know how to spend the money they’re asking for. We do. We spend it on blood transfusions that make us look three crucial months younger.
Day Sixty: The picket line that our assistants have been walking for us was unfortunately broken up after we asked too many of them to run out and grab more coconut water for the office simultaneously. But don’t worry—we quickly rallied, hiring all of our nephews as assistants.
Day Seventy-three: We have a scab in our midst. One among us violated the work stoppage by performing the critical C.E.O. duty of responding to a quarterly earnings report with his trademark “
.” He’ll be harshly disciplined when we force him to extend his Moldova vacation by another six months.
Day Ninety-nine: Our most recent quarterly earnings report is not quite as “” as the last one. Turns out people don’t like our short-term solution for TV (airing only public-domain footage of the Hindenburg disaster) or film (hypnotizing audiences into thinking that they watched a Marvel movie that doesn’t exist yet).
Day One Hundred: Our shareholders fired all twelve of us and replaced us with A.I. that’s really good at responding to e-mails with “.” Just like the coal miners at the Battle of Blair Mountain, we’re left with nothing but our pride and our seven-figure severance packages. Hey, maybe with all this new free time on our hands, we’ll finally write the Great American Novel! We just need to find someone who’s good at writing things for people and make it worth their while. 
The Time Has Come for Hollywood C.E.O.s to Strike
Source: News Flash Trending
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