“The best improv in the show’s history was [Chris] Pratt’s, and it was in “Flu Season,” when Ben is walking Leslie out the door to go to the doctor, and Andy is just taking over as Ron’s assistant. As they’re walking by, Pratt says, “Hey Leslie, I typed your symptoms into the thing up here, and it says you could have network connectivity problems.” If I could write a joke that good, I would be a happy man.”— Michael Schur via The AV Club (via fuckyeahparksandrec)
I’ve said this before, but I think that most people who create TV shows, and I won’t speak for Greg Daniels, obviously, who created the show with me, but I think that most people split their own personalities and put different parts of their personalities into different characters. And for me, mine is split pretty evenly between Ron and Leslie. I sometimes feel as though the modern government and the modern country that we live in is impossible, and there’s no point to any of it. It’s like, why bother trying to navigate any of this? Society is completely unreasonable. People want everything and want to pay for nothing. They panic if they think about their taxes being raised, but if their garbage collection is a day late they scream and yell.
People don’t seem to make the connection between their tax money and the benefits that they get from their tax money, like free education, and the fire department, and police protection, and everything else. It drives me bonkers, because it’s pretty straightforward to me. People think of taxes as money just being robbed from you. They don’t consider the benefits of paying taxes. The benefits that they get and also the benefit of just being a part of a large group of people: a town, or a city, or a country, or a society that allegedly should stand together and all try to help each other. So my cynical, angry side I gave to Ron. And we have him voice the idea that there’s no point, that governments can’t function, that society is unreasonable, that everyone should just leave everybody else alone.
The other half of my personality is this incredibly, wildly optimistic, rah-rah, patriotic, America is the best place on earth. Every time I read about anything that’s going on in any other country about how other countries treat women, or, you know, if you’re gay in the Middle East you’ll just be instantly murdered, I think, “Okay, we’re not perfect, but dammit, we’re way better than they are.” And I want to put an American flag on my front porch and salute it, and sing the national anthem really loudly. So that side of it is kind of with Leslie.
“We were in Japan actually, when it was released. And uhm, the Japanese version hadn’t come out, but the English version was out there. So I got it, and cuz I was on Holiday, I turned my phone off so nobody could tell me. I blitzed through it in like two days. I couldn’t put it down. I remember I was on the bullet train, and the part what happens to Fred, and I was like, (makes a distressed sound). And literally at that second, the ticket guy came around, asking for my ticket, and I was like, “I just died, mate, leave me alone!””—James Phelps, on reading the last book. (via pants-are-irrelevant)
Annes and Harrys – and their intended readers – are people with whole lives of possibility before them. They do not have cars and mortgages and 401(k)s. If they are acquainted with certain grim facts of life – are orphans – the promise of more disappointment, or even just of the status quo, does not yet seem the only thing that life could hold. Annes and Harrys belong to a time in one’s life when living is a glass you’ve yet to fill. When you can be a writer if you just want it badly enough.
Perhaps most importantly: when it is still dimly possible that on any given afternoon a giant will sweep you away from your ugly little life and inform you that you are the savior of all Wizardkind.