The day after the Emmys. What really goes on.

Monday morning.

No work gets done in the writing rooms of winning shows. Everyone basks in the afterglow. People are calling all day with congratulations. Muffin baskets and bottles of wine are being delivered faster than Lucy can wrap chocolates on the conveyor belt. Full-page ads in the trades already appear and will continue for the week. My favorites are the agency ads. They’ll salute their clients but their agency logo will take up a third of the page. The cast will stop complaining for 24 hours. On stage, the “greatest crews in history” will still take too long to set up a shot or forget to get the star’s coffee.

If one star from an ensemble show wins while the others lose, everyone – staff, crew, interns, I mean everyone – RUN!!!!

As for the shows that lost, or worse, were not even nominated. There’s not a writing staff in Hollywood (comedy or drama) that isn’t devoting the first two hours of the day to savagely ripping the Emmys. The only break is when they call their friends who’ve won and tell them how thrilled they are for them.

Here’s what I’m sure went down this year. At least a half-hour trashing the reality show hosts and that opening. Heidi will get the brunt of it. But the always reliable “Ryan is gay” jokes will also be flying.

You could play the drinking game for the number of times “talentless” gets uttered when referring to the hosts.

My Emmy review was a five-star rave compared to what’s said in these rooms.

A half hour minimum will be devoted to mercilessly savaging Mary Tyler Moore.

Steve Martin will take some aging/Botox/plastic surgery/no-longer-relevant shots.

Oprah fat jokes are a must.

As always, the room will be evenly divided on Kathy Griffin. But the ones that hate her will be louder.

Of course fashion will take a solid beating. And the women writers will be the most brutal.

The overwhelming consensus will be that no one who won deserved it. MAD MEN is slow and a piece of shit. 30 ROCK is not funny for a second. Tina Fey is over-rated. Jeff Probst is a joke. Glenn Close is a man. Alec Baldwin is insane. Everything is rigged. JOHN ADAMS only won because they wanted to get Tom Hanks to show up for the telecast. Everyone is a hack. The awards don’t mean anything anyway.

Then they’ll finally go back to work, silently praying that next year they’re Matthew Weiner or Tina Fey, or even Jeff Probst.