Dear WGA,

How are you? I hope you are well. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written (and even though I may have used a few nasty words in those letters I sent about that awful haircut you gave Felicity, you know I didn’t really mean them). I’m very sorry about your troubles with the greedy evil studios. You TOTALLY deserve more money for internet shows and whatever else it is you’re pissed about. I know it’s really tough living in Brentwood and your kids’ private school isn’t cheap and lord knows alimony is a bitch. But, um, are you really going to stop writing TV shows? Because I sort of need you. Let’s get serious, my life pretty much sucks. I need Dr. House’s cynical witticisms, CSI Grissom’s charming pragmatism, and Ugly Betty’s cheery optimism to keep me going. And even though Heidi has a gigantic chin and I want to punch Spencer in the throat, I neeeeeeeeeeed them. Don’t even get me started on McSteamy and McDreamy.

So what I’m saying is, please don’t punish us, the innocent, during this time of duress. Please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’ll do without you. I wrote you a poem which I put under your windshield wiper in Lot 7 in the Fox lot. I hope you like it.

P.S Do you always leave your house for the picket line at 9:17 am?