Hi. I'm Dougie, the writer on John and Dave's Pop Culture America. John let me use his blog account so I could clear up a few things. That's right, I have to use someone else's account because those two jerks won't let me have my own. When I asked them for my own blog, Dave mumbled something about "security" and "maybe when you're older" and then wandered back to that room where he takes his medicine. Then John said I didn't need my own account because I could use his and when he was my age he .... And he said some more but I turned up my iPod so I wouldn't have to hear any of it.
Whatever. I wanted to address some misconceptions that have cropped up on the show since I went on strike. First of all, I'm not seven. I'm so sick of that. I'm seven and three-quarters. If you don't think that's a big deal, try telling the third graders.
Secondly, you might think we use up-to-date, cutting-edge equipment around here. Nuh-uh. They make me write everything on a typewriter. Can you believe that? It's practically 2008 and I have to write everything on a manual Underwood that Yvette got a deal on. When I asked for something from this millenium to compose on, John started telling me all about how using this hunk of outdated slag would build my character. Then he said something else, but I managed to get away. Dave said something about "Obama," then drove off to the store where he buys his medicine.
And third, I didn't want to go on strike. I didn't want to join the WGA. But I didn't have a choice. John and Dave's Pop Culture America is a closed shop: if you're not union, you don't work. I'm not entirely sure what the WGA does for me, other than lighten my paycheck every week. But when they went on strike, I did too. I even picketed right outside the viewing window of the main studio. I shouted angry slogans while John waved and grinned and Dave slept. It all felt a little pointless.
When David Letterman negotiated a dispensation for his writers to come back to work, John made sure that there was a clause in the agreement covering my situation. Well, actually, he just waited until everyone had left the room, then snuck in, wrote "Dougie too" on a Post-It note and stuck it on the contract, but he assures me that's legally binding.
So as of this morning's show, I'm back. I'm sure you noticed the upturn in the level of quality. Right now, as we plan next week's show, John is talking to no one in particular about one of his theories while Dave rocks back and forth in the corner, smelling of medicine. Yvette is nowhere to be found and I'm banging away at this archaic machine, hoping the ink ribbon doesn't run out because I have no idea where to get a replacement.
Business as usual.