Ovitz, I dare you to sue me! ... Please? PLEASE?

Reading the story about the Cathy Schulman versus Michael Ovitz legal battle (“It’s One Ugly Feud,” by Rachel Abramowitz and Scott Collins, Aug. 16) brought back the horrid memories of nearly two years ago and how Ovitz ruined my life.

In 2002, I wrote and directed the 12-minute video “My Dinner With Ovitz,” which was produced by the lovely and talented Denise David.

When we decided to do the film, agents, producers and fellow writers said it would be my show biz death knell, that I would never work in this town again. What a risk. The people who hadn’t been hiring me wouldn’t hire me.

But the warnings were more ominous than unemployment. Nearly everyone I spoke with told me that Ovitz, even as the shell of a power broker that he had become, was no one to mess with. He still had the muscle and anger to leave me bloody and battered, in career, legally and ... he could easily find out where my kids went to school.

Still, as a Hollywood writer, for the opportunity to finally make it ... well, the kids would have to understand.

We decided to go ahead with the project, which took Hollywood power brokers to task. But it was mainly Ovitz for his now-legendary comments in a 2002 Vanity Fair magazine article where he laid much of the blame for his fall from power on the conspiratorial efforts of what he labeled a Hollywood “gay mafia.” The details of the piece were so silly that it begged a response, albeit ours was a satirical one.

Without going into the specifics, the video, rich with “Godfather” metaphor, made Ovitz out to be both antagonist and fool and ended with -- spoiler here -- entertainment mogul David Geffen whacking Ovitz. Pretty harsh and lots of swell Hollywood blood.

During editing, watching the final scene over and over, in slow motion, Ovitz being felled, it really hit me. As Schulman’s friend said, “The most terrifying moment of her life was deciding to take [Ovitz] on.” It was in that editing room that I felt as Schulman must have. Surely Ovitz would never allow me to get away with this. I was going to be sued and worse.

Then I had a thought: If little me was sued because of a video I put out, I would be gold. Other writers would write letters to the trade papers defending me. Producers would want to see the other scripts I couldn’t get anyone to look at. Agents would return my calls. Well, maybe not that, but all the rest of my dreams would come true. Think O’Reilly versus Franken. Ovitz versus Young. Please God, think that.

“My Dinner With Ovitz” was distributed throughout town and received terrific buzz. I readied the press release announcing my trepidation over the lawsuit but saying that even under this unrelenting pressure and expense, I would trudge on. I was just expressing my 1st Amendment rights to get publicity. How could that horrible, powerful monster try to quash my -- nay -- our rights to create?

Then I sat back and waited for the legal papers to arrive.

And I waited. And waited. And waited. But no lawsuit. No cease and desist order. Not even an angry phone call. Nothing. My kids came home from school every day ... unharmed. There was absolutely nothing for celebrated writers to defend me from. It was ungodly. No one was incensed. Worse: No one cared.

Damn you, Michael Ovitz. Damn your lack of personal indignity.

So when I hear Cathy Schulman and the like complain about a feud with Ovitz and all the high-profile coverage and pressure it brings, I say to her:

At least you had a feud. Remember “My Dinner With Ovitz” and its paucity of legal buzz, and thank your lucky stars that Ovitz objected enough to sue you. With all your problems, you are partnered with a billionaire and are still developing films.

Today I sell doors and windows.

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Steve Young is a TV writer, creator of National Lampoon’s MoveOnPlease.org and author of “Great Failures of the Extremely Successful” (Tallfellow Press) and “Winchell Mink ... The Misadventures Begin” (Harper-Collins). Ovitz attorneys may still reach him at steve@greatfailure.com.