Crap.

OK, new plan. If I get somebody like an agent or manager to take me on (e.g., on the strength of this aforementioned thing, which I actually finished, and which one of my more trusted readers says is my best concept yet), I'm going to insist that I work from the farm and Skype into the writers' room. Because I think it's arguable that it's irresponsible to ask someone today to abandon their means of food production for the family. Unless they paid me enough to buy a house in SoCal with a 1.5 acre backyard. And the requisite water.

Meanwhile Moviewood is banking on sure-fire-international-splashes like this because things are so scary. (As it happens my pilot is something reality-bending like this.) But if at some point in the near future it takes a global village to make a film like this, and if every single country in the world is heading into a depression/food shortage/pick-your-disaster, who knows if Hollywood will be able to make things like this (or anything else) anymore? Uprising of hyper-local cinema on the horizon? As in homemade shows in the barn?

Eat, drink and go to blockbusters. For tomorrow we work our fingers to the bone to survive.