Working in a strike enviroment, three friends on a beach.

"How do you do it" they ask -- the papparatzo as they comb the set of my already filming epic in the streets of San Carlo. "How do you do it, monsieur?" says a french journalist smoking a cig. I look to the crowd of street urchins, flickering their flashes and smile "I do it for the people".

Like any good man, I stand up when need by, yo. Listen, I told my writing staff that I would pay them to continue to re-write my lines. The initial script is terrible, and I don't feel it sounds 'like me'. So, if I could choose -- I would say an embargo on 're-writers' is necessary.

How would this work? Not unlike a deal struck by David Letterman and his World Wide Pants consortium, I would negotiate directly with the WGA to find a way to secure a deal that would allow this epic to finish, to proceed and blossom like sex on a beach covered with salt and sand. Hollywood NEEDS this, they need Troy. How can anyone argue? I recently sat down with some of my favorite people Actress Hillary Swank and comedian Dave Coulier. We sat down, sipping mimosas and looking at the beauty that is mothers nature. I told Dave that he should join me in my fight, join my fight...he looked at me and said (in the voice of fictional cartoon sailor, Popeyes) "Argh, Matey, ak ak ak ak ah" it was so funny -- Swank laughed and a stream of mimosa/mucus burst forth from her nose, causing me to vomit my mimosa and laugh. Dave LOVES doing that.

We sat down some more, and looked at what mothers nature had created -- the skys, the clouds, I looked at my pants : I thought, 'every fiber of this was created by her, mothers nature'. I said it out loud...I didn't even realize, but I said it out loud. At first, Swank looked at me and she kind of gave me a dirty eye, I felt naked and raw. I felt so bad about myself. I looked to Dave, and he had his shirt off and was punching himself in the tit extremely hard -- his cheast was red. He was making a joke, a joke in light of me. Swank looked me in the eye with a trinkle of sorrow, and she said 'mother nautre is in all of us' . We kind of wept, and cried, and Dave and me kissed for the first time -- he kissed me in the voice of Bullwinkle, and then the Jackalope made a visit.

That night, the three of us wound up in bed together....a bed made of wood, and sheets made of cotton; Mothers Nature would be proud.

Signed, 'Troy'