Dan Harmon

From Quotes
There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?
George Borrow
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Dan Harmon is an American television/film writer. He is most famous for creating Channel 101 with Rob Schrab.


From his blog

  • Yeah, but what should you have done? What should you be doing? What will you find you should have done tomorrow? You're giving away wisdom, but the rest of us don't deserve your level of satisfaction until we learn to create it for ourselves. You "should" be the one benefitting from your judgment.
  • I gotta tell you, and don't get all fucking serious about it, I don't want to hear your bullshit, just shut the fuck up and let the expressive guy express: I am a very happy dude, with a perfect life, but the first time I get sick, I'm out; I'm killing myself.
  • Anybody that attempts to take control over another human, be it with bombs, bullets, hijackings, speeches, wars, clucking tongues, guilt or rules, is not someone I can ever trust, and nobody I mistrust will ever change me.
  • I pulled the plug on society a long time ago, and it kept going without me, at which point I realized society was the hero and I had been the villain.
  • That's why I wrote to you, not to tell you to change anything about the way you do things, but just to tell you to take it easy. Nothing you do matters as much as you think. Your greatest achievements aren't yours at all, they're accidents and jokes. You're a puppet, the universe does the work, and it gets the most done when you're moving the least. Surrender, flow, relax. Don't be hard on yourself, don't put pressure on yourself, life is just a chain of experiments and results, and you'll be perfect when you're dead.
  • If you want to know where I stand politically, don't listen to where I stand, look where I'm standing. In a nice apartment. Minding my own business. Bumper stickers aside, our behavior would seem to indicate that in America, we're unanimously opposed to our own discomfort.
  • The danger of empowering words is that words are insubstantial, so when you give them your power, your power hits the floor. It was your power, given you by nature, you're supposed to use it to be who you are, but instead, you become an empty shell and your power gets snatched up by the people that can never have enough. Vampires. Control freaks. Party poopers. Liars. Rule makers. Politicians. Con artists. Thieves. Presidents and terrorists. And that's whose side we're on every moment we believe in sides. That's what a bad guy is, it's a guy that believes in bad. Bad doesn't care if we're bashing gays or bashing rednecks, it just wants us bashing. It also wants us fighting, controlling, fearing, stifling, labeling, warning, forbidding, shaming, censoring, and anything else we do in the name of fighting bad. Because when we fight bad, we believe in bad, and bad lives on.
  • I had to get money from the store to pay her, so I did something I never do, I bought medicine. It doesn't help your body fight anything, it just numbs you and makes everything worse. I bought a box of something called Cepacol and it literally says "maximum numbing" on it. Maximum numbing? You assholes. When I try to "maximize my numbing" with vodka, you call me "sick." You people have never been healthy. Why don't you talk to me some more about how you don't smoke pot or drink beer because of your parents, you gross fucking dumb ass insects. What about the "abusive father" we all share called the cocksucking government, maybe we could all rebel against that, you fucking nervous, untalented, coffee slurping, pill popping, nectar sucking drones? Why don't you give me some more fitness tips while you change the flickering bulbs in the cement tunnels of your fucking hive. Dipshits. There's a plant that GROWS OUT OF THE GROUND that's ILLEGAL and there's shit sitting next to the Fruity Pebbles that people can use to commit suicide because there's so much poison in it you can't make it without a fucking computer, but you take it in small enough doses to numb the symptoms of your malnutrition so you can get back to work shuffling money around for a fucking police state. You're all a bunch of phony fucking suckers. Oh, peace, groovey, I'm like, totally groovey eating my egg whites, I'm not a fucking robot ant or anything, I'm, like, totally human, cuz, like, look at my hair. And my shirt. Fuck you. FUCK YOU. You're a buzz cut and a jumpsuit away from THX 11 fucking 38. Just because Orwell didn't bother to predict that some of the prolies might wear Van Halen tee shirts doesn't make this NOT 1984.
  • Am I manic depressive? Is that really what this is? I know there's something wrong with me, is it really that simple? Am I just another fucking manic depressive? I'm sorry, bipolar. Let's look this up. Okey, dokey, reading reading reading. Eh. They're just describing everyone. These psychological disorders are like horoscopes. The one thing they don't have a diagnosis for is the syndrome where you feel compelled to categorize all human states into a handful of disorders and suffer the delusion that there's such a thing as a normal human being. I call it "psychological professional disorder." Fuck those guys. Last month, I thought I had a Christ complex. But then I realized, it's not a complex, it's an awareness.
  • Seriously, though, please remember Dr. King's sacrifice this Monday, and remember that he didn't die just so your weekend could be longer. He died so that no matter what your race, religion or orientation, you would think twice about fucking with the government.
  • Self respecting women? Not a huge slice of my pie chart. That's not a dig on a gender or the people I've dated. When's the last time any of us have ever met a self respecting person, let alone fucked them. We're all a bunch of crazy jigsaw pieces tumbling against each other and every once in a while, the contour of one person's insanity gets snared in another's. With a little luck and a lot of force, two psychos can get pretty well tangled. That's called "compatibility." And anybody whose sickness is "compatible" with mine is not going to be put off by things like this blog entry. On the contrary. They love the blood, the dirt, the parfait of arrogance and self-loathing. They figure they'd have to be all the more special to get onboard this Death Star. And you know what? That much is true.
  • I live in Los Angeles. If standup is sad here, it's sad everywhere. I just got back from another parade of people in their 30s mumbling into a microphone about what a bad job the audience was doing. "Okay, I guess that one didn't go over so well." What one? Did you just tell a joke? It sounded like a rhetorical question about your hair. It sounded like you said there were "no niggers in Cloverfield." I thought it was my job to wait for the punchline, then laugh. Now I'm finding out I should just laugh because you decided you're a comic? How can your thumb fit in your mouth with your head so far up your ass? You know why most of the audience isn't laughing? The "audience" is the other 15 comics. They're going through their notepads or they're talking shit about you. Sadly, they're being funnier mumbling into their drinks about how unfunny you are than they're going to be when it's their turn on stage. Everyone in this room is here to get the attention they think they were born entitled to receive. Weird how that doesn't make a real hot night of entertainment for me, the one guy that got tricked into coming here. I leaned over to my friend during someone's act tonight and said, "I've never wanted to slash someone else's wrists before." That's how standup makes me feel. There's as much talent there as anywhere else, but the medium makes babies out of grownups. There had to be a first comedian, a guy that was the first person to pick up a microphone and try using it to make people laugh. That guy didn't have the luxury of a thing called "standup" to pretend he was pursuing. That guy just had to do it, in spite of a world saying, "why are you doing that?" His answer had to be "because I love doing it," not "because this is what people do" or "because I have five years to kill before I need to get a job or marry someone."
  • ...it's just about time for the Tight Shots of Specialized Equipment Being Strapped and Buckled Montage. Time for Predator 2 to "want some candy." The Batmobile is revving. Relationship Rambo is tying that string around his head. I think that by the end of February, SOME lucky ladies can be expecting furtive reconnaissance missions to become full blown nighttime raids on their ammo dumps and command centers. Most of you won't even perceive being scoped. I do thermal scans for boyfriends from 800 yards. I write lists of how many gross, fat slobs you've dated on my arm with a magic marker. My head breaks the surface of the swamp just long enough to squint at your ass, and then, plurp! Gone, like a crocodile. Was that the wind in the palm trees? Or was it a one man strike force? Maybe you'll never find out. Maybe you won't be classified as a strategic target. Maybe you'll just hear distant popping from another village, three clicks away. Or maybe....Shhhhh.....Maybe you'll hear a twig snap. And the last thing you'll see is me charging you in my underwear with a knife in my teeth. Stay frosty.
  • I just want things to stay the way they are, and since the only way to keep them the way they are until I’m 55 is to run on a treadmill and eat a sack of oats instead of chasing my burger with a ketel one and doing bits about Voltron, I’ll be very lucky to make it to 45 without some kind of medical bullshit eclipsing my carefree life. And when that happens, it’s a fucking deal breaker, that’s all I’m saying. I wasn’t born to suffer, I was born to watch Law and Order while I eat fake vegan chicken sandwiches between blogging about jerking off, getting paid to write nonsense and experimenting with pharmaceuticals.
  • After three years of reading youtube comments, I found one that didn't make me want to puke and kill myself. Some kid, talking to another kid underneath a music video: "first things first buddy, no matter how hard you try i guarantee you wont change the way anyone thinks or acts." If I could put that thought in everyone's head on a loop, I could save the world. But, like the kid says, I can't.
  • Because I'm a good person, God gave me the power to make anything true that I want to be true. And if I abuse that power, by making untrue things true, he will take it away, because bad people can't have that power. Which is how I know I'm good, because I have that power. And I keep it by only using it to make good people feel good. Which is as easy as doing nothing because they're already good people. And bad people want me to make them feel good, which is how I know they're bad, and why I can't do it. It would be a lie. If you say, for instance, "I need a hug," you don't deserve one, and giving you one would make me as bad a person as you. I have to find people that don't need hugs, and hug them, in order to stay someone whose hugs have any value.

From the Channel101 forums

  • Jesus on roller skates. Jesus the next door neighbor. Jesus the country singer, Jesus runs an abortion clinic, Jesus is just a regular guy hanging out, Jesus in high school, yadda yadda. Jesus is an OCCASSIONALLY recurring character on a DECADE old show on Comedy Central. It's like the flat head screwdriver that comes with the comedy toolbox. If you're going to use it, use it WITH something and use it to get something done. Open a paint can, fix the screen door. Don't give me a drum roll and then show me your screwdriver
  • They're fucking words. There's a war going on, children's arms and legs are getting blown off, we're paying for it, and you're offended by a fucking word. You can't use words to change people. You can't, but according to you, I can. So treat me like I have that power. Get on your fucking knees and pray to me and write me a check or I'll turn you to dust by saying the word googaboo. It's a new one, I made it up, it's the most offensive word in the world. If I say it three times, your dick falls off. Now get the fuck out of here, I don't like the way you put words together, when you type, it makes me remember getting raped in the butt at summer camp. I'm going to sue you.
  • I'll write you a check for a hundred thousand dollars, and I will give you a three million dollar camera, and Tom Hanks, and you still won't be able to get into the show. Because unlike the people who can get into the show, you suck. And you and I both know that you know you suck, because if you thought you were the best, your agenda would be "let the best man win," because it would serve your interest. Instead, your agenda is "let's take turns winning, and ban the best people from playing." Guess why you'd prefer it that way. Really take your best guess. Pretend I've got a gun to your head and I'm going to pull the trigger if you guess wrong, and you tell me: What kind of person wishes the people around him were limited? Hint: The answer is in the question. You suck, and you want the world to suck so you can blend a little better. And I know you'll say "I'm not a director, I just watch and complain." But the thing is, if you're watching, and you're complaining, then you're a director. You're just so bad at it that you haven't even started, yet.
  • If you are always unhappy, you're doing it wrong. If people don't like you, but you wished they liked you, so your solution is to pretend you don't wish they liked you, or that you don't like them, you're doing it wrong. If you hate everything; if you can't even stop complaining about the things you LIKE, you're doing it wrong. If you don't know you're right until you hear it from someone else, but you think you're going to change the world, one of those two things has got to give.
  • Who the fuck did you trick yourself into thinking you were when you found this website? What fantasy is in the thought bubble above that bowling ball you call a head? You're a fucking blue ribbon idiot. Go pretend to have a tea party with a stuffed animal somewhere. You can practice putting it to sleep using only the power of stating your redundant perspective.
  • You're a fucking lump of hamburger with a hat and glasses on it. What the fuck kind of Chinese restaurant placemat did you accidentally read that tricked you into thinking you were allowed an insight or opinion about anything? What do you think you could possibly have to share with someone like me? Knowledge? Insight? I'm a human being and you're a boiled hot dog.
  • For the rest of your life, every conversation you ever have, every time you open your mouth from now until the day you die, unless you're talking to a fucking pickle or a rock, I want you to START, not END, START your half of the conversation with, "of course, I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about." Save the universe some energy. Make a sign and put it on your forehead. "Hi. I'm half potato. Do you value time? If so, run."
  • I swear to God, every time a famous person dies, someone laments Jim Belushi's continued existence. That guy is universally regarded as living proof of life's irony. He's going to get struck by lightning one day and nobody's going to bat an eye.
  • I actually tend to avoid "moving" movies because one of two things is going to happen: I'm not going to be moved, and it's going to piss me off, or I'm going to be moved, which usually amounts to feeling a tremendous amount of grief at some point. Basically, somebody's got to die, otherwise you've got Jerry MacGuire or Good Will Hunting, these movies that briefly hypnotize people into thinking they're important, long enough to make some money and beat it out of town like a 60's con man.
  • I'm Dan Harmon, and I shit gold.
  • Maybe if we freeze ourselves in a block of ice we can skip to 2050 when everything's finally perfect instead of just fucking awesome.

From Interviews

  • Once upon a time, something happened, and it was better than something not happening. The end.
  • If I decide to flip a coin, and I decide that if it's heads, I'm going to eat a turd, it's not the coin's fault.
  • I have no drive to succeed, I don't persevere. Everything I've ever done that's been hard to do failed. Everything I've ever done that was fun, and happened naturally, was successful. Sometimes you don't want to write something. Good. I wouldn't want to read it if you did. Go to the mall. Talk to your friend. Do drugs. Drive your car into a brick wall. Sit in your closet and cry. Obviously, you're going to have to do something other than what you're doing. Be at least as smart as a spider. If there's no silk coming out of your asshole, or no flies in your web, you crawl somewhere else.
  • The difference, right now, between old media and new media is that new media has no money, and therefore no rules, and therefore it has humanity, and viewers. In the long run, 5,000 years of tradition isn't going to change: the rich people are always going to control everything. But we're living, right now, through a historical transition, like the wild west, a time and place before the richies and the law have settled in. I'm surprised to see so little celebration of it, but I guess what we've learned is that people were pretty happy with their lives. Give them their own cameras and the chance to reach a global audience, and what do they do? They make "parodies" of Mac/PC commercials.
  • Right now, we're like monkeys using rifles to club animals. Very soon, there is going to be a very loud bang. We are all going to stop what we're doing and turn to look, and one of us is going to standing there with his finger on the trigger and his eye to the scope. And then we're all going to do it. So, that's the difference between the studio system and the Internet. I work at the studio, I make money at the studio, and I run back to the Internet to bang my rifle on a rock, because I want to be there when the bang happens.

From 'Lazer Fart'

  • From now on, everything is my responsibility.

External links

Wikipedia has an article about:

http://www.channel101.com The Unavoidable Future of Entertainment http://www.myspace.com/unspeakablesadness Dan Harmon's Myspace Blog