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The Hollywood writers’ strike has meant that, in certain ways, the societal exchange of ideas has come to a complete standstill. Some of our nation’s best and brightest communicators have been hobbled, and we, the public, are denied the illuminating grace of their thoughts and words.
But the real casualty of this ordeal? Irrelevant masturbatory ceremonies of self-congratulations.

Boo freakin’ hoo.
Can we shitcan the Grammies next, please?
They announce that the Golden Globes are canceled, and within three hours United Artists reaches a deal with the WGA.
Strikes work.
"They announce that the Golden Globes are canceled, and within three hours United Artists reaches a deal with the WGA."
Of course, out here in reality, these two events were entirely unrelated.
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We pray only for the apocalypse and writer's strike to destroy all copyright media.