Crucial Update on my Bodily Functions

I have, physically, had worse and better 2:30 AMs than this. I haven’t seen that recent Planet of the Apes movie but based on the descriptions I’ve heard, its third act is unfolding in my abdomen. I feel like I accidentally swallowed an entire very put-upon chimp with zero tolerance for captivity and a vindictive determination to make some points known on the way out.

Fiv just rubbed her nose on my phone and posted the above paragraph as its own tumblr entry. It was supposed to be an opener. So I deleted and am restarting. If you want less of my fat obnoxious personal life and more talking about you and Community, skim down a bit. If you find this entry long and pointless, YOUR REFUND IS IN THE MAIL, fuck off, it’s my internet, too. Sorry I snapped at you.

Too be graphic, I am shitting water and regurgitating, well, there’s no adorable way to say it, foam, right now, BUT, I am smiling between violent wretches for several reasons:

one of our writers has been suffering from colitis/crones the entire time I’ve known him and had to have his colon removed so I know I have nothing to complain about. I think Steve’s reaction to me describing my symptoms right now would be “ah, those were the days.”

I am uncontrollably pukin’ and poopin’ in the first house I’ve ever owned, on my first night in it. That’s why I was in a hotel the last two days. My assistant, Daniella (I know, right?) who I am convinced is an actual angel, oversaw my move via this fancy service while I “wrote” episode 315, and by “wrote” I mean surfed porn and drank. All I had to do was go pick up Fiv from the old place, drive her over to the new place, call Daniella to tell her I had taken the wrong keys, wait 20 minutes, apologize to Daniella, and walk into my new place. This is an obnoxious thing to be able to do and I am keenly aware that when you moved, there were milk crates, warm six packs, hernias and strained friendships involved, and I have been there, and that is why I am smiling. I have a good life. This time of year in Milwaukee I would have been duct taping sheets of plastic across the windows to keep the snow out of the living room. I also would have then hit a bong made from a maple syrup bottle and played Resident Evil for 7 hours. My life was good then, too.

I am very optimistic about this situation with Community. Not in a naive, let’s-think-positive-because-we-may-as-well way. I am optimistic in a shrewd, practical, look at the situation and place the bet you’d place if you were betting your life way. I think the most thorough, informed and incidentally optimistic analysis of our situation was in the AV Club article to which I am too lazy to link here, but you can find it by googling, it’s called “eight reasons community might come back” or something. If it’s self deluded bullshit, it’s the type that really goes the distance to suspend your disbelief. It worked on me.

Here’s a slightly less scientific but immediately present factor that makes me see very clearly that Community’s story is not over: you guys are fucking nuts, in the best way possible. And you are beautiful and kind and honest. And there is a magic emanating from you. You are in lockstep with a universal rhythm, here. You put our show on the cover of TV Guide BEFORE any of this was going down. It looks from a distance like we got yanked and THEN there was this pity party of clicking on that poll to make some point, but that is not what happened, I was there the whole time watching. First, you won us that cover. And TV Guide swore us to secrecy. Then, NBC rescheduled us. Then TV Guide came to the set and took the photos of the cast and swore them to secrecy. We were half wondering if the network would pull strings to kill the cover because, well, you know, awkward much? My point is that when I look at the timeline, I don’t see a boring cause-effect chain. I see a weird, ironic, poetic blossom of mythology. I see story points. I see the folds in the universal cootie catcher, I see an absurdly happy ending.

Here’s what’s going to happen in the short term. The Christmas episode is going to be very well received, because it’s pointless to punch a man on a stretcher but more importantly, the Christmas episode rules. We’re going to have dramatically higher ratings because more people promote and watch holiday episodes, and it’s our unintentional finale and the Pittsburgh and St. Louis affiliates, two of our biggest viewerships, aren’t going to air their news anchors playing Pictionary, they’re going to give Gillian Jacobs, the PRIDE OF PITTSBURGH, the holiday party she deserves. And we’re going to break a 2 (I can’t believe that’s become a dream, but, fuck it). And the mushroom cloud is going to turn into the word “WHY,” and it’s going to stay there until the obvious choice is to bring this little scrapper back.

And, by the way, I agree with the AV Club that the answer to “why” is not a sinister one. It’s time to give Up All Night the same shot every new show at NBC gets. They can’t air everything at the same time. They have to move stuff around and try to find the magic combination. It has equal potential to be exactly what we need. We were the obvious player to bench for a few. Yes, I’d love to be on the court forever but I’d also love to be taller and I’m not. It’s not exactly what I’d call stupid coaching.

So what should we do during the hiatus? Well, I’ll be working. Doing my part, which is to make the show, should it come back, come back strong. I will fail and I will succeed. You guys seem better able than I at figuring out things to do. Here’s something I wouldn’t do: don’t send jaded tweets to shows or personalities you perceive as somehow competing with us. If you’re over thirteen, you know Whitney Cummings doesn’t choose her time slot, and that we’re no more entitled to it than any other show. If creatives were running things, we would try to create a situation in which everybody got to see everything they wanted to see. And that is the landscape that is emerging, and it’s a less profitable one for the previous generation’s conglomerates, and it is those companies that prefer you to think your selection of one show over defines you as a person and is a matter of life and death. The truth is, people that make you want to laugh are on your side, and people that want to make money off you laughing kind of aren’t, but they own everything and they get us connected to you.

Holy shit, my thumbs are tired. It’s 4:30 now? Ironically, my literary diarrhea seems to have abated the real thing. I might be able to sleep, now. I’ll post as-is, I think editing this entry for content would be like pouring spot remover on a dog.

You guys are the best. That ratings hike was all you.