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My Hollywood Gratitude Journal, Still Going
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Richard Rushfield

My Hollywood Gratitude Journal, Still Going

A Thanksgiving homily about where we are and this industry

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Richard Rushfield
Nov 26, 2024
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My Hollywood Gratitude Journal, Still Going
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UNDER PRESSURE Working in Hollywood right now can feel like being Steve Martin’s character in Planes Trains & Automobiles but it doesn’t have to. (Everett Collection)

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A break today from my recent obsession, reporting on the curious happenings over at local monopoly shop Penske Media Corp. Those include another hidden Golden Globes event in a problematic Middle Eastern country, as well as my bombshell news about the California Attorney General reopening its look at the proposed ownership of the Golden Globes (nope, deal still not closed) — and CBS’ out clause from airing the show in January if “controversy” emerges again.

Here are last week’s columns to read aloud to your family over the holidays:

SCOOP: Attorney General Reassessing Golden Globes Deal

SCOOP: Attorney General Reassessing Golden Globes Deal

Richard Rushfield
·
November 21, 2024
Read full story
I Found Another Golden Globes Fest in a Middle East Locale No One Knows About

I Found Another Golden Globes Fest in a Middle East Locale No One Knows About

Richard Rushfield
·
November 19, 2024
Read full story

Anyway!

I don’t spend a lot of time on gratitude here. It might be the most important sentiment, but it’s also often the least interesting — and the line between gratitude and self-satisfaction can be thin. As a commentator, my job is to point fingers, not hand out participation trophies.

All the same, if you’re gainfully employed anywhere near the entertainment industry and most (if not, all) of the words that come out of your mouth are complaints or gripes, then the world might have a point when they say, “Maybe this crank has some bigger problems.”

My own complaints are a function of wanting for this industry to prosper. If people would just read the instruction manual and learn how to operate this industry properly, I’d be happy as a high school theater class going to sing along at a packed showing of Wicked.

If ever there were a moment to dig deep and remind ourselves that we’ve got a thing or two to feel grateful for, let it be this Thanksgiving week.

The rending of garments may have quieted a bit post-election, post-streaming, post-fill in the blank, but the town continues to stumble in a dulled shock/acceptance, instinctively reaching for a smoothie and McCarthy salad to remind us of our place in the world.

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