Sporting an intimidating beard meant to show the effects of his difficult, two-month-long, tragically scribe-deprived hibernation, David Letterman symbolically crossed a twirling line formed by his Eugene V. Debs Picket Dancers and returned to work, bolstered by the full services of his newly contracted Guild writers. We haven't seen Jay Leno's opening yet, but we're going to assume he won't be doing a self-effacing version of the picket-line bit, wary that the saboteurs who've previously feasted on a vulnerable Carson Daly might have infiltrated his dance troupe, ready to paddle him with "Shame on You, Jay!" signs for going back to work without his striking staff.

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