obsession.

I have created a machine that eats pain and craps joy.
— Daniel Day Harmon

I have a problem. I love Community. No, like I love Community. My love is not like the way you love pizza, but the way you love oxygen; my love is needy and dysfunctional. There's no work in any medium that has me this emotionally invested me (except maybe Breaking Bad (rock rock on, Gilligan)). Everything about it from the jokes to the genre-bending to the themes to the characters to the attractiveness of Gillian Jacobs all add up to create an interesting 22 minutes of entertainment.

I recall an episode of Family Guy in which Peter writes his own cartoon and tries to pitch it to television networks (a little meta, eh Seth?).  He crafts a dumb, stupid and idiotic show, but then suggests that while you're laughing and you're having a good time, suddenly BAM! You fall in love with his characters and feel their pain and their joy. Hilar-bear. That all said to say that I find that true only for a few shows. It's in the shows that feel real, the ones that make people happy, the ones that people don't fool around with the power to affect millions of people's lives that I feel like sticking around for, shouting six seasons and a movie at non-believers, buying a shirt and making my life mission to high five each and every person who makes that show possible.

In my overabundance of love gushing around, I really feel for the show's creator who, it seems, has made his goal to hug me through a television screen, pat me on the back and tell me everything's going to be okay. To describe the man to those unaware, he's a self-proclaimed self-loathing genius, the kind of guy cool/crazy enough to host a show with his name in the title, a narcissist with an honesty complex, please welcome to this blog post, your mayor, Mister Dan Harmon!!!

[crowd erupts into applause] 

"You're applauding yourselves; you're applauding yourselves!" Harmontown the podcast has made my joy complete. A sloppy mess of a human drunkenly shooting the shit about anything and everything somehow makes me feel comfortable about being the man I am, a like-minded sloppy mess. It's really quite wonderful. Give it a listen, why don't you?

Here's to you, Dan Harmon, for making this sun of a gon a happier man.