So TV writers are all on strike. Does this mean nobody's getting their pizzas delivered in L.A. or that car windshields aren't being cleaned in N.Y.? The suffering is almost too much to bear.

We need to be cautious though because the last time writers went on strike, I think it ultimately led to reality TV. God only knows what's coming out of the dark hole of the television entertainment industry this time.

Yet this is no time to sit around with our thumbs up our butts, watching reruns and really bad replacements programs.

The strike can't go on forever. Once those bloated money-hoarding conglomerates kick back some green to those no-good commie unionists, TV will be back to the way we know and love. Until then, here are some tips to help you get by.

The strike is hitting late-night TV and spur-of-the moment programs the hardest. The dramas and comedies have plenty of shows in the can and won't feel the strike until much later. So what I am doing to fill my late-night void is counting the times I rock back and forth chanting “Conan, Conan” while shaking with withdrawal. Once I reach 100, I break down and cry for a while. Then I wander around the house a bit, as if I am looking for something, until my wife yells at me to stop being melodramatic. So I eat a sandwich and try to force myself to watch reality TV. This is the method I have used most since the strike hit.

Another coping mechanism is the wonderful combination of syndicated TV and prescription sleep medication. But you have to be careful or you could end up in a mild coma. A coma where you're stuck in an episode of “Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.” for days, and when you finally come around you have an urgent need to bone Frank Sutton.

I've also tried bugging my wife for sex, but she's nine months pregnant. So at this point I would have better romantic chances with my best friend Ben. Spanker vision could be an option, but I'm not allowed. Something about eternal hell and setting an example for the baby or something. I wasn't really paying attention.

Like I'm going to sit there and watch “Busty Cops 2” with the lad. Come on! Give a dad some credit. 

Anyway, documentaries help. Documentaries are the cough drops of TV writers' strikes. They sooth for a while but after about four hours, it is just a bunch of dusty old dead people and re-enactors with awful costumes.

One night this past week I am ashamed to say that I watched “Waterworld” until 1:30 in the morning. A wet Kevin Costner with gills, webfeet and bad acting was the closest thing I could find to Bill Maher, so I went with it. We cope and do what we have to, to get through the strike.