And that is that the stupid writer’s strike might go on for stupid four more months.

What to think about that strike? It’s tough. And the insides of me are dueling like one of those famous New York black and white cookies. Mmmm. I really could go for one of those right now.

There are two sides of me vis a vis the writer’s strike. Side one is in sympathy with the Writer’s Guild. This is the side that moved to New York City eight months ago expecting to “make it.” This is the one who self-righteously stays home Friday nights to perfect her “art” and ends up watching Bring It On Again on ABC Family.

Then there’s the rabid Lost fan side. The rabid Lost fan side just wants new episodes of Lost. And she doesn’t care if they’re written by a thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters. She just wants to know who the Oceanic Six are (Yes, that was a Lost reference. Feel free to look it up).

The strike is tough on all of us. It’s tough that Celebrity Apprentice exists. It’s tough to see the People’s Choice Awards become more of a travesty than it already is. It’s tough that Tila Tequila chose Bobby. That has nothing to do with the writer’s strike, but it sucks.

So, yeah, maybe I just wrote this rather contentless article to fill the void of no television. But at least I’m not reading it.