It's much more fun to blog in a state of anxiety, where your fingers start to fly over the keyboard in unison with the beating of your heart and the close proximity to a stroke that dealing with the MPTF can cause.
I'm in a totally apoplectic state over Thursday's firings and layoffs at the Motion Picture Home -- a scant few weeks before Christmas.
While Katzenberg and the rest of the MPTF board enjoy their private jets to warmer climes, bounties of electronic gadgets under the tree and menorah, and studio holiday parties where fat bonus checks are passed out -- those 13 will have to explain to their kids why Christmas and Hanukkah sucks this year.
I guess this couldn't have waited at least a few weeks. Callous acts abound at the Motion Picture Home, so don't be surprised. We hear about them almost on a daily basis.
The little birdies that report back to us on the 'goings-on' at the Motion Picture Home may appear cute when they twitter and tweet away, but I assure you -- they carry an emotional armament that would make an F-14 Tomcat green with envy. We're not a violent sort, so we keep the safety on at all times -- and being gentle hippies we mean nobody any physical harm. However in the case of what happened today, the pen may not be mightier than the sword, but it will have to do in a pinch.
Of the almost dozen Motion Picture Home workers that were shown the door Thursday, one of them, a male caregiver that is responsible for my mother's well-being and daily care, along with others -- is out on the balls of his ass. Fortunately for him, he's a skilled and committed caregiver who will find employment elsewhere. Unfortunately for us, we've lost a dozen dedicated hallmarks to motion picture and television health care.
Unnecessary, futile, careless.
I can hear it now -- "we simply don't have the money to keep these people employed." That lament is stale and past its sell-by date, especially when you consider the important fiscal outlays of late:
1. The hiring of a phalanx of private goons that accompany Dr. Tillman around like MIBs at a Roswell press conference. These are highly paid security agents who offer protection to a person who soon will be lancing hemorrhoids in a free clinic off the 118 Fwy.
2. The construction of a security perimeter that turns the Motion Picture Home into a veritable military Green Zone. I know things can get pretty dicey out on Mulholland, especially after a lunch of kreplach and corned beef at Labels Table. However, I've never known anyone to launch a SCUD from Kinko's or a Calabasas soccer mom to plow through the meridian in her Hummer yelling JIHAD! at the top of her lungs.
3. Let's not forget Tillman's exorbitant salary, and the money Seth Ellis spends on making mockumentaries about the nurses and patients.
