Ann (Rashida Jones) waits impatiently for the slew of dates Leslie (Amy Poehler) has lined up for her.

At times, “Parks and Recreation” can feel like a delightful embarrassment of riches. There are so many balls in the air that you wonder how they could possibly be juggling them all. Just as you did with the pretty, popular valedictorian in high school, you dug deep to extract that one irredeemable quality. The pivotal flaw that you could exploit to prove she doesn’t deserve the student body’s worship. Then you confront that flaw and realize that even her imperfections make her likable. Then you hate your yourself, because you aren’t pretty, popular, or smart and your flaws just repel all the attractive people.

Excluding the last sentence (I think I’m swell), this has been my relationship with “Parks” as a critic. As a fan, I have laughed my ass off, fallen in love with all the characters, and even began to prefer hanging out in Pawnee over my hometown in suburban Connecticut. As a critic, it’s counterintuitive to my very existence to unconditionally adore any TV show. That same act of extracting flaws is turned toward more productive pursuits (in my humble opinion), the analysis of what makes for effective storytelling. In the case of “Parks,” I have crammed my reviews with praise for the writers’ ability to craft and maintain multidimensional characters and how they can cultivate jokes rooted in their specific traits. Tonight’s episode, however, reminded me of Ann: quite possibly the sweetest, most charming blemish.

Leslie’s best friend and ex-girlfriend to both Chris and Andy, is largely defined by those relationships. Who she’s dating and how exemplary her friendship with Leslie is, are her major talking points. Tonight spoke to the show’s stagnation with her role, and the stagnation it can foster when she either isn’t dating someone or when Leslie’s attention is focused elsewhere: such as Ben and her campaign. But what made this episode extraordinary was that it simultaneously answered that concern with rich possibilities for self-discovery that can add to the already intricately-woven tapestry that is the Pawnee Parks Department.

It’s February 13, or as Leslie has dubbed it, Galentine’s Day: a celebration in sisterhood. The adorable concept, Leslie  takes her gal pals to brunch so that they may love themselves as women, individually and communally, but separate from the men in their lives. Obviously, this year is different. Leslie’s in love. Silly, miraculous, sickening, dreamy love. And Ann, who churns through guys like today’s teenagers do cell phones, is alone. During her “confessional” she convinces herself that she is at piece with her singlehood, and at the table she congratulates the others (Donna, Leslie’s mom, April) on their relationships. However sincere, it’s laughable how sarcastic she sounds. Immediately, Leslie swoops in to save her dearest friend like a animal caught in some netting. This is not an original plot by ANY means. Ann and Leslie have played opposite roles, but the general principle of matchmaking prevails. What makes it feel brand new are the contributions from the rest of the gang. They’re not at all obligated to, but because Leslie would “lit’rally” do anything for them, they ask Leslie “How high,” before she even requests they jump. Sure, it wasn’t the cleverest plot ever conceived, but it gave us an excuse to return to the giving, thoughtful Leslie. It would be an exaggeration to say politics has changed her, but it has forced her to be self-absorbed, and before I could recognize how much I missed her magnanimity she reappeared.

The scope of her altruism extended to her valentine as well. Though they had promised not to exchange gifts, Ben had a stuffed animal made based on her recurring dream of a playboy otter (where do these ideas COME FROM), and she gave him—a cryptex. Inspired by the first movie they watched together on Starz HD, “The Da Vinci Code,” it’s a device that stores inside instructions on how to arrive at his surprise. Of course, he must know the five-letter code first, and he is clueless. Thus, the ingenious trio of sleuths, Ben, Ron and Andy is formed (not before Ron and Andy suggest the code might be f**k and actually “break it”). Hot on the trail, Ron tries to resist the allure of riddles and clues. Once he discovers he has a knack for the game, his patented giggle is unleashed, one that is only revealed when Swanson breaks down his meat-soaked, manly exterior and simply enjoys himself. The point is illustrated superbly in one outlandish, ironic scene, Ron enters “The Bulge,” Pawnee’s premier gay bar. He confidently saunters in, inquires about Leslie’s clue, retrieves it and then walks out giggling effeminately as the aroused patrons gawk at him, bewildered. It’s a truly mesmerizing scene that renders you silent until the awes dissipates and you erupt at how splendid it is to watch Ron own that room, as if it were his old stomping grounds, despite being the antithesis of the Swanson way.

At the annual couples dance, sponsored by the Parks Department, Jerry, April and Tom try to scrounge up candidates to be Ann’s date. Jerry incidentally hires a gay male escort and Tom contributes the cowboy wanna-be, Harris. Harris is played by Emerson College alum (rep my school!) Harris Wittels, one of the most frequent writers for the show. He makes an impression as a lives-at-home Phish Phanatic (he’s been to 308 concerts). Former flame, Chris, has sunken into the polar opposite of his usual optimism, all-encompassing sadness. As DJ for the event, he constructs the most miserable playlist. Tom, often a catalyst for parties trying to break the fun barrier, tries to cheer him up pointing out how many prospects could be out there in the dance floor. Chris’ pessimistic reply is that no one compares to Millicent Gurgitch: everyone except her father Jerry. What ensued was the laugh out loud nominee for best facial expression, a longing, gentle stare from across the room. Just the idea of Chris yearning for Jerry makes me burst out.

Eventually, Ron solves Leslie’s 25-clue scavenger hunt when he suggests that the only thing she covets more than romance is being right. He asks Ben if he has recently shifted to her way of thinking on a point of disagreement recently. Ben applauds Ron’s expertise and rushes over to Lil’ Sebastian’s grave. As fans beyond this season will know, Lil’ Sebastian is the miniature horse that captured the hearts of Pawneeans, no matter their creed. Ben (even Ron got visibly choked up at the horse’s funeral) doesn’t get it. The appeal escapes him. Leslie is blissfully unaware of his true feelings though, thinking he has finally come to understand his greatness. Her reward for Ben was to treat him to dinner, but when she suspects that Ann and Chris have left for a secret date to rekindle their feelings and remedy their loneliness he suggests it would be better that they spy on them. They would, of course, be breaking the same rule they had: a personal relationship between a superior and his subordinate.

All these shenanigans lead me back to my thesis on this episode’s depictions of growth. April, despite her usual ambivalence, or even sometimes active rooting for chaos, showed last week with Chris’ grieving that she puts others before herself in order to make them happy. Is it possible Leslie’s selflessness has rubbed off? At any rate, in this episode April assists the women she swore to despise ever since she kissed the man she’d later marry. Not only has her hostility softened, but she actively seeks to support Ann by offering an unlikely solution to a lack of well-intended male attention. Tom. No, seriously. This was no sabotage by April. And she makes a salient point. Tom, when you carve off the layer of swagger-ful facade, he is at his most basic elements a sweet guy who would dote on Ann, and make her feel like the most adored and important woman in the world, even against his better judgment. April also observes that Tom is the sole man to make her laugh and smile that night.

Upon LesBen’s arrival at the restaurant they had followed Ann to, it’s revealed to us that the Tom/Ann pairing came to fruition, at least for a few drinks that night. They were the secret date Leslie had speculated about. Suggestive of her improvement in approaching healthier romantic relationships, Ann decides to allow Tom the opportunity to audition. By all accounts, he fails miserably. He makes some wisecrack about getting to know each other so they may later “snuggle up, like little bunnnnnies.” Ann says, “Ugh, this was a mistake,” and it’s over. So Tom doesn’t make significant strides like April did, and Ron only told Leslie how titillating he found her series of riddles in reverse psychological code. And that’s okay. It wouldn’t have been so authentic if everyone had resolved their imperfections. Ann remaining a “beautiful spinster” is not a blight on the tapestry’s fabric.

For me, “Operation Ann” signified progress. Alan Sepinwall, a fellow critic whom I look up to, theorizes that maybe April’s marked spike in maturity could be a precursor to her breaking away from Andy. One of his commenters suggested maybe it is his Andy himself, and his pure heart, that has galvanized her good deeds. Either way, whether April blossoms into a benevolent young lady is immaterial. It matters not that Tom thwarts his chance to woo Ann. The vital ingredient this episode added to the mixture was motivation. As mentioned above, I applaud the “Parks” staff for their commitment to the authenticity of their characters. Their voices are distinct and their ideals, their motivations, their far, their desires are clearly mapped, by now. But my stamp of approval was earned when they broke their own conventions of the characters allowing them the forward movement to fundamentally change aspects of who they are.

We want to spend time with these guys because they feel real, because they assert themselves. They make mistakes. They live. And there’s no reset button that erases the previous week’s errors in judgment. There are rules, and damn it, they break them week to week, but not without consequence. The numerous slaughter murals that adorn Pawnee’s City Hall may not be an accurate representation of the kind souls we’ve come to know inhabit that town, but they do convey an undeniable truth of their world and ours. Nothing lasts forever. When discussing the roots of his despair with Leslie, Chris tellingly poses the question, “What if I have already achieved my personal best?” Because they pushed our pals along with the winds of conflict and change, and by testing their “babies” they challenged themselves (as writers), while not sacrificing the consistency and rhythm of its rise-and-fall jokes, the “Operation” was successful… A-

L.O.L.Ls: Laugh Out Loud Lines:

- “Thank you for being here. Let’s get started.” “Wow, Ron. Great attitude!” “Sorry, I was talking to these ribs.”

- “Does Ann have a little Indian in here?” “No I don’t think so…” “Would she like some?”

- “April hates Valentine’s Day, and brunch, and outside, and smiling. Haha, she’s weird.”

- “Let this be a call a wakeup call about how you present yourself to the world.”

- “Can we change the music? It kinda sounds like the end of a movie about a monk who kills himself.”

- “…Not as beautiful as my sister, but you know, the law.”

- “Screw romantic dinners, let’s go rub it in their face!”

- “I got lucky…AND I LOVE RIDDLES!”

Leslie (Amy Poehler) looks to court a reluctant voter with bowling skills and "laid-back" demeanor.

When “Parks and Recreation” started out, it was “The Office” 2.0. Whether comparisons were fair or not (they did share producers/writers Greg Daniels and Michael Schur) it was a comedy founded upon the idea of hilarious interaction in the workplace. And once we came to know these characters and the dynamic they shared, the show was heralded by critics. It’s only natural then, that the TV critic community might would become weary of the potential for shaking up a successful formula. Leslie Knope is running for office, and as her adoring fans we would like to witness her triumph. But what would happen to the gang if she was a city councilwoman? For now, they are diligent phone operators and fundraisers, but how long can that last? Will it feel like the gang is playing second fiddle to the LesBen power couple?

This episode scoffs at that notion. Much of this episode’s charm was in the the B- and C-stories that showcased two of the most facially gifted, delivery-nailing comedic actors out there, Nick Offerman and Aubrey Plaza. Offerman’s Ron Swanson is not only my favorite character in current comedy, but he is a cult figure for his love of meat and breakfast food, his staunch libertarianism, and his intolerance for girlish men. Plaza’s April Ludgate has epitomized the ironic youth of today. She is the sarcastic observer who wants chaos to unfold so that she may mock its meaninglessness. Both not only execute their fan-favorite quirks with deadly accuracy this week, but they reach beyond themselves in moments of growth (eh, maybe baby steps) that provided payoff and pathos.

LesBen and the “Knope We Can” campaign kick off a series of focus groups in order to gauge Leslie’s appeal. Many seem to feel off-put by her perceived elitism. The snob in me would wish to defend Knope by pointing out that just because these folks have a fourth grade education does not make Leslie an elitist, but I will refrain from generalizations as I am above that. Damn, still pretentious. Well, at any rate, one comment particularly gets under Leslie’s skin: “She doesn’t seem like someone I would want to bowl with.” With a target in her sights, Leslie locks on Derek, or “Bowling Comment,” as her binder full of research describes. Ben, as boyfriend, teases her relentlessly about her obsessiveness. After multiple insistences that he can ask Ron how good she is at bowling he asks, “So I’m not sure I believe you’re good at bowling is there someone I could ask?” As campaign manger, he tries to reel her in. Strategically, the one vote doesn’t matter, and if she fixates on him she could lose votes instead. So, Leslie’s compromise is to sponsor a bowling night where she can schmooze with the voters and prove she is laid back (and a good bowler as Ron can attest too, apparently).

As Leslie tries to establish her public persona most of the gang is making calls to raise money. Jerry, for Twilight Zone-like reasons, has been put in charge  and April, Andy, Donna and Chris are under his leadership. To liven up the “phone party,” Jerry incentivizes the task by offering the winner two movie passes for who ever raises the most. Chris’ eternal perk and knack for flattery seem like assurances he will win, but once he begins to celebrate his lead in the standings, April resolves she must win to “make his happiness go away.” Her efforts include creating a down-home country-fried southern belle voice, and she appeals to the Latino voters with her fluent Spanish (she is Puerto-Rican) through shouts of “Mira, mira, mira!” The competition is interrupted, however ,when Jerry lets it slip that his daughter Millie will break up with Chris. The unflinching optimist is unaware, believing they are about to move in together. When Millie comes over to take Chris “for a walk” the gang who has grown to care for him, even though just a year ago he was an outsider and threat to the Parks department, tries to warn him of the impending heartbreak, but unassuming he laughs off their subtle forebodings.

Ann, Tom and Ron join LesBen at the bowling night, much to Ron’s delight. The restaurant inside the alley is his favorite in Pawnee. It serves only hot dogs and hamburgers, but Offerman’s glee shrouded in mustache suggests that is all Ron truly needs. In contrast, Tom (Aziz Ansari) arrives with pomp and circumstance. For all my cinephiles, he dons a black version of the satin scorpion jacket sported by Ryan Gosling in “Drive.” Ron continues to relish in his simple values, regardless (referring to Ann, as “Girl” was particularly authentic). Tom shakes that foundation to the core though when he bowls two-handed, “granny style,” and scores a strike. Ron is outraged that such an embarrassing display could result in success.

Despite Leslie’s spinning her inability to “let go” into a popular event, she hadn’t buried the hatchet. She sent Derek an invitation in the mail and when she spots him, she immediately swoops in to challenge him to a friendly game and a hot plate of wings (she creepily smiles at the camera saying she totally knew he’d loved them, pointing at her binder). She lets the man win, and even strokes his ego along the way, which in itself seems very anti-Leslie, but this guy really got under her skin. She outlines her issue with Ben saying that she can’t control being a woman, or being short, or blonde, but she can control her perception. She NEEDS Derek to perceive her as fun. Once Derek wins with only a mediocre score, Leslie springs on him the question about his vote. He still won’t vote for her. Leslie, then tries to earn his vote saying that if she can beat him fair and square he will guarantee his vote. Ben, during this whole fiasco, is extremely frustrated, wishing Leslie would take the opportunity to face-to-face with more people, but what makes him perfect for Leslie is he says his piece and then falls back, letting his love make her own mistakes.

Once she absolutely slays Derek in bowling she tries to be civil and say, “Hey, seriously it’s been fun, and I hope I can genuinely count on your vote.” Then, Derek replies, “Sure, I’ll write-in Bitch.” Outraged, Ben goes COMPLETELY out of character and punches the man in the face. He instantly apologizes, but Leslie is impressed! And who can blame her? Despite her feminism and opposition to violence, she found out her love can protect her and that’s not something she should regret, it’s something she should cherish. But in the public eye, it’s something she should apologize for. To avoid Derek pressing charges, she intends to save face (pun intended).

Here begins the laundry lists of reversals the episode elicits. Although, “Bowling for Votes” is brimming with jokes that hit upon specific beats as opposed to hitting on a level of general wit and charm, our quirky and even lovable friends in Pawnee don’t remain static. They learn from their mistakes, they feed off the emotions of their friends, and they realize that who they need to gratify first is themselves.

For Ron, “Bowling with two hands is embarrassing” Swanson, Tom’s inevitable victory is not an option, it is an aberration that should be ignored, but for posterity’s sake he must prevent it. He sabotages Tom by jamming his “fing-y” between two bowling balls. He suspects he won’t be able to bowl the last frame. When Tom perseveres and hits enough pins with just one hand, Ron is visibly distraught. In the very last scene, he takes his baby steps by showing up in sunglasses, marking his name as “Man” and bowling  Tom’s way. In hilarious, yet predictable manner, he bowls a perfect game. The manager asks for a photo to put up on the wall, but Ron assures that he was never there and walks off. Of course, he shouldn’t have been embarrassed for the tremendous achievement, but to acknowledge that another’s way might be better is like asking Ron to change his entire fabric of being. It’s progress Ron can’t possibly sustain, but memorable for his effort.

April, likely surprised the most when, in a moment of weakness, she offered condolences and a gift to Chris. In the aftermath of the breakup, Chris never came back to make calls and April won the movie tickets. Feeling as though he might need support, and perhaps feeling guilty that she wished for his happiness to go away, she approaches him reticently. Once at the office, he represses his pain. He tries to dip into his well of positive thinking, but comes out empty and dry. “But here’s why it may be the greatest thing that ever happened…” When he just stands there, she offers him the tickets out of pure kindness, suggesting maybe he use them to join her and Andy at the movies someday soon. Nobody with any sense of April would believe she didn’t care about at least some of these people, but to see her take a shine to her emotionally polar opposite (the man who loves all vs. The woman who is always “meh”) was quite a departure. Both Ron and April have these facades, these masks they wear for their own amusement and protection, but here the masks are removed and the likable, decent folk emerge.

Leslie’s reversal occurs to her in mid-apology. She shouldn’t apologize for something she’s  deemed awesome. She may admit too much in revealing how much they “made out after,” but the message is understood. She loves Ben, and when Ben stood up for Leslie by clocking a jerk who called her “her second least favorite word for a woman” she felt protected and honored. Turns out, the focus groups love that kind of gusto to stand up for what you believe in while risking that others may not stand behind you. This may seem like an all-to-easily-swayed voting population, but stranger and more arbitrary aspects have won a candidate elections before. Most importantly, Leslie gained a better understanding of the sort of candidate she wants to be, separate from what is “electable.”

Leslie’s arc can largely be viewed as a metaphor for the show. No one can ever accuse the ensemble of “Parks and Recreation” of being inauthentic. Some weeks Andy may seem too much of an idiot, Tom may be too showy, and Leslie can be too manic about a project (Ron could never be too much of anything, it’s all gold). And while moderation, range and/or subtlety are great practices in human behavior and in television, what make the Parks gang a fun group to be with is that they never disappoint. They are flawed, but they never fall shy of expectations in the terms of being themselves. If the campaign trail doesn’t change Leslie, than why should we worry the show’s essence will change. With no “wow” factor in terms of a slapstick tipping point, and without much of the electricity of of other recent episodes with joke frequency this might come off as an off-night. But for allowing Leslie to rediscover the personality and spunk that made that made her such an unstoppable public servant and a compelling candidate while shining the spotlight on Ron and April, two of the show’s more distinct contributions to the comedic canon, I can unapologetically  call this episode “awesome,” an A-.

L.O.L.Ls: Laugh Out Loud Lines:

- “Oh I don’t know Jerry. It’s Sunday night, I’m making phone calls to strangers and you’re in my house. My night couldn’t be worse.” —April

- “I choose to support Team Knope. Because they’re the best. Everyone’s the best. We’re all winners.” —Chris

- “When I eat, it is the food that is scared.” —Ron Swanson

- “Son, people can see you!” —Ron Swanson

- “You can’t eat the biscuits if you don’t pay for the flower!”

- Andy, in response to hearing Jerry say Millie is going to break up with Chris: “Wow, that’s gonna be super weird when they move in together.”

- “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, anyone else.” —Ben

- “What Champion? You need to go out now? Oh, sorry he hates awkward situations.” —Andy

Andy (Chris Pratt) takes an eye exam as his wife, April (Aubrey Plaza), looks on dumbfounded.

I’m not suggesting that Parks and Recreation should be viewed as anything beyond a belly laugher that occasionally will endear us with acts of kindness and friendship (and this CERTAINLY is not a slight), but I felt as though this episode had a pretty visible thematic undercurrent. Besides being a relevant social satire (perhaps) of the ongoing tete a tete between Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney-endorsing Super PACs, I saw “Campaign Ad” as a commentary on idealism vs. realism. In both subplots, we saw the extremes employed. Andy and April chose to ignore their abysmal financial situation and hope that insurance would cover an absurd amount of medical care that evidently both have been neglecting for some time. And Ron F***ING Swanson was cruel and ruthless in crushing the dreams of the Public Works Department who hoped to build a dam. Of course, both incarnations of these world outlooks were hysterical, but obviously flawed. Ron surely could have been more compassionate, and based on Chris’ offer at toward the episode’s end, if he could remain open-minded a more lucrative and influential position of assistant city manager would await him. Could you imagine a Libertarian like him with the power to cut spending in any (and just maybe all) departments? And Andy certainly sees the world through rose-colored glasses. And according to his eye test, he needs actual glasses. According to his testimony it sounds as if he has been suffering from nearsightedness for oh…his whole adult life.

What we got with the main plot was the true face-off and subsequent compromise of these perspectives. Leslie is the idealist. When an opponent, played by movie star Paul Rudd, born of the Pawnee royal family, the Newports, pops into the race with his daddy’s corporate backing she firmly believes that although Bobby Newport is charismatic and affluent her status as a lifelong bureaucrat and champion of her city will propel her to victory. But frankly, Sweetums (the Newport family business), a candy conglomerate that employs half of Pawnee’s population, carries too much political sway. Ben, the realist, immediately sees the competition as the Goliath to their David. This does not necessarily discourage Ben either. He just is willing to play dirty. Leslie, however stands atop her principles, while reluctant to undermine her boyfriend’s strategy. His fairly sound plan is to buy airtime during halftime of the Pawnee vs Eagleton high school basketball game (more popular in town than the Super Bowl) to run an attack ad against Bobby Newport. With most of the gang in support, Leslie hesitates to voice her opinion, but once Ben senses her discomfort she refuses to ever do a negative ad. Though her ambition, to win on her merits alone and not by demeaning the opposition, is admirable but Ben aptly breaks it down. She does not have room for error. She is down 70 points, and needs something, anything, that will make her stand out before she’s DOA. An attack video could be that lynchpin.

Being the reasonable and supportive boyfriend he is, Ben suggests a competition. Leslie and he will pick teams and whichever team produces the better ad wins. During Leslie’s shoot there is the sight gag of Bobby Newport’s bus with that big smiling mug of his right behind Leslie as she hands a child a hot dog (how patriotic). This pales in comparison, however, to the funniest moment of the episode as the team of Tom, Ben and Jerry try and nail the perfect voiceover for their cliché slam against Bobby. Just replaying in my head that unlikely trio taking turns, showing off their most gravelly, menacing, and authoritative versions of the condescending narrator in these commercials (we all know the type), makes me break into howling laughter. Once they screen their respective submissions the victor is clear, though Leslie is swimming in the De-nial River. Ben quickly points out that, positive or not, her ad is ineffective. It never mentions that she is running for office nor ever says the words city council. Plus, her list of “some more things she’s pro” is miles long and in painfully small typeface. Eventually, she accepts defeat and trusts her boyfriend to do what’s best. It’s curious that this strong-willed woman would stroke her boyfriend’s ego, even if he may be right, but we are soon vindicated as loyal viewers.

Despite Leslie’s claims that she’s “very zen about it all,” she tackles Ben at the TV station as he is about to hand over the DVD. Another great bit of slapstick from a comedy that has limitless range. But the award for best use of physical comedy goes to Chris “Pratfall” Pratt a.k.a Andy. Not once, but three times he was called upon to fall over in this episode and every one had me (and hopefully not him) in stitches. As stated above, Andy and April were doctor’s appointment shopping after Ann told them about the wonders of health insurance when they came to her wondering what could be causing Andy’s symptoms. He’s saddled with a headache, seeing double, a song stuck in his head, his teeth hurting and he’s hungry—to which Ann quips, “Kay, well some of those things are symptoms and some of them are just being a person.” Then once inside the Pawnee Medical Center he opens up about a number of issues ranging from allergies to broken bones, to April needing a tooth pulled. But as I mentioned it is his spills that brought the whole bit together, the most prolific being when he decides to “dine and ditch” the hospital when he realizes the insurance required a $500 deductible. His response is then to rush out of the building, and in his haste he runs into the side of an ambulance. If you don’t burst out after seeing Pratt bounce back, you are a lifeless drone or one of the dementors from Harry Potter that suck out people’s souls.

Once Leslie sabotages Ben’s marketing strategy he decides that they can combine elements of their ads together to create an appealing and sweet, yet tactfully pointed argument for why she would be a much better councilperson. In the instant Youtube sensation, we see footage of 10-year-old Leslie making fake campaign ads promising cleaner streets and a more progressive tax on residential properties. In Bobby’s ads? He promises to…figure it out when he gets there. The widely viewed viral hit causes young Newport to call LesBen (my trademarked couple name) to dinner. Here’s where the episode hit its only real snag. Paul Rudd, like most of the cast, can charm the paints off me on a consistent basis, but the writers also know exactly who these characters are to the point where nothing they say is inauthentic.

In Bobby Newport’s pleas to Leslie for her to “just quit” he comes across as a spoiled version of Andy. Now, there is nothing wrong with the lovable loser. Andy executes it flawlessly almost every week. And Homer Simpson has done it for 25 years. But when you have two dudes who are dumb as rocks and man-children in terms of their grasp of responsibility on one show, it comes across a tad lazy. I buy that Bobby would think he’d get his way every time, but he might convey that in a way douchier than “Gimme it.” I was hoping for a Bush-like baffoon, who in the media’s perception tried very hard and often succeeded in sounding smart and put-together, but would on select occasions negate his efforts with mispronunciations and vagaries when discussing foreign and domestic agendas. At this point, I will lay off though, because I have the utmost faith that Harris Wittels (Emerson alum, REPRESENT) and the rest of the staff writers will re-write the ship (see what I did there) and utilize Paul Rudd’s smarmy delivery to make him closer to spoiled douche than spoiled dimwit, or possibly an unfounded mixture.

In lieu of a mixed reaction to Paul Rudd’s introduction to Pawnee, my inclination is to downgrade from last week, but the jokes hit everywhere else, and the April/Andy hospital buffet even topped the main thread with Leslie/Ben. Although, admittedly, the re-affirming moment where Leslie tells Bobby to toughen up, as Ben told her when debating the ad’s merits, in preparing for their debate did inspire in me a Tiger Woods fist pump. I imagine, sadly, that has less acceptance as a gesture post-scandal, but I felt triumphant all the same. The Ron/Chris subplot could have easily fallen under the radar, but it exhibited more precision in character authenticity. Again, that’s what made Bobby so strangely inferior in comparison, but in fairness Ron Swanson wasn’t the epic and thoroughly manly man from day one as I recall, so slack is being cut. There was also a nice callback to Ron’s Christmas gift as he tried to shut out Chris with his remote-control door, but quick as he is he snuck in. Also getting a callback—Andy’s gold record. Turns out his gift sparked the incident that jarred his “brain helmet,” him violently sneezing into the wall as he tried to mount the frame. Chris also served the purpose of adding a bit of intrigue that could mainfest itself as the election draws closer. With Ron being offered the position of assistant city manager that leaves the Parks director position. Obviously, he hasn’t made a decision, but once again the neurotic optimist throws a wrench in the machine and Leslie’s well-earned victory may not be so inevitable.

With all that in mind, factoring in my favorite lines, deliveries, and plain silly moments, I find myself compelled to edge Parks and Rec into A range as I have done with every P&R episode I have reviewed thus far, BUT due to the cathedral scale ceiling the series has set for itself in comparison to nearly all other comedies in rotation, I must reluctantly award “Campaign Ad” with a B+.*

*Be aware of this caveat, however, that the 2/3 letter deduction is mostly for its lapse in quality establishing Rudd’s character, who will have a multi-episode arc as Leslie’s only legitimate opponent, thus far. Also, when I considerd my lofty expectations of this show’s ability to combine barrages of emotional gut-punches with waves of uncontrollable giggling, it should be noted I never really felt a kinship with Leslie’s struggle, in spite of my disdain for mudslinging. I would have buried the rich prick. Therefore, I was less moved by her empowerment in the end (thanks in large part to Ben’s patience and support) as it felt overdue. Regardless, let the record show, this does not mean “New Girl” surpassed “Parks and Recreation” in producing a higher quality episode this week since they are evaluated on different scales with “New Girl” being in its infancy. Nice try though!

L.O.L.Ls: Laugh Out Loud Lines:

- “Hey Ann, are you still a nurse or did you get fired for sleeping with all the doctors?” “Wanna try that again?”

- “This is exactly how I dreamed it would be as a kid. Except I wasn’t 70 pts. behind and my campaign manager was Mr. Belivedere.”

- “I think I got a weird rash in my knee pit area.”

- “I once ate a Twix with the wrapper on it, and I’ve never seen the wrapper come out.”

- “When I bet on the horses I never lose. Why? I bet on all the horses.”

- “Ron Swanson! I just want to thank you for being so ruthless and cruel in that meeting the other day.” “You are going to have to be more specific.”

- “I rejected his lunch offer, then he started laughing and I ended up here. Did he drug me?!”

- “Here are some more things I’m pro…” Examples on the scrolling list included: Start talking to Cuba again, Better Better Business Bureau, Memorial for those lost in “trampoline” incident, No more conflict diamonds and making it illegal to refuse a hug

- Bobby Newport: Vice President of Nougat

- “I got my ankles microwaved!” “X-rayed…”

- “You get Jerry. You wanted to go negative, you get the biggest negative in the world.”

- “My dad’s friends with John Cougar Mellencamp. That’s pretty cool.”

- Ron tries to replace himself as Chris’ new friend with city hall regular, Kyle (or as he dubs him, Dennis). Chris asks if he is a “brother Japanophile?” Kyle says to Chris ” I was eating rice, and Ron told me to come up here, but sure that sounds fun.”

- “Call an ambulance! A different one than the one I ran into!”

- No, no more doctors. They’re a bunch of scam artists! Reel you in eight the free stuff, next thing you know…BAM! You ran into an ambulance. Every time.”

The gang shuffling their candidate across the ice not-so gracefully.

One of my many media consumption resolutions for winter break/the new year was to re-watch seasons 2&3 of “Parks and Recreation,” for two reasons. One, it’s my favorite comedy currently on TV. With “Louie” on hiatus it is hard to compare, but P&R is certainly in a heated battle for #1. Two, in reading a few year-end lists of my favorite TV critics I saw that the show was consistently in the top 5. Besides feeling validated that my opinion is in accordance with the “professionals” I was immediately curious about the rationale. I have only reviewed two episodes from season four thus far, and I know why they were A-quality episodes for me, but what made season 3 (the full season aired in 2011) so A-quality that it caused Alan Sepinwall to leapfrog “Breaking Bad” and crown it the best show of the last year?

What I immediately realized about Parks and Rec’s excellence was not necessarily something you can learn workshopping scripts. P&R has harnessed the ability to cultivate friendships—with the audience. Whether you are writing a film, a short story, novel or TV pilot you learn quickly that no one will care unless you can write characters that people will want to invest in. Leslie, Ron, April, Andy, Ann, Tom, Ben, Chris and even Jerry are all my dear  friends, and I cherish any time I get to spend with them. It’s not as simple as empathy, because at times these characters can be jerks, fail miserably, or be a shell of  themselves. But despite them falling short of your expectations you will love them anyway, and root for them to return to their most promising attributes.

Tonight was one of those episodes. None of our favorite people were firing on all cylinders. In fact, Ben and Leslie both got glimpses of the bottom, but just like the rest of the team, we wanted to stick by them. In most comedies, one of our main characters running for office would merely by a long setup for some killer payoffs where shenanigans ensue. But we want Leslie to win. She is the best thing about Pawnee, Indiana’s government and she would only bring the town to new heights, but she isn’t infallible. She is going to hit rough patches. But even though this is a comedy, we don’t wanna laugh at their failures. What we want is to have a hell of time on the way down.

“The Comeback Kid” refers to Leslie’s newfound identity as she re-launches her campaign. After bringing her relationship with Ben into the light she is polling horribly and her bigshot campaign team has abandoned. In their wake, the Parks and Rec department (and Ann) have decided they will not allow her to throw in the towel (like a Jon Huntsman, but with friends). Leslie declares her bestest friend, Ann (Rashida Jones) her campaign manger despite no prior knowledge of politics. Leslie then tells her she is pretty and that she will help her anyway. Her rationale that most murders are committed by professionals was typical Leslie pontificating without thinking it through. Her positivity is ramped up when Ann lands “Pistol Pete”  Disilio, a local sports hero to endorse her. Elated, she attempts to break dance as everything seemingly falls into place.

Ben is looking to make a comeback also, into respectability. Since resigning, taking the blame for his illicit relationship with Leslie, his production level has been dangerously low. Ben, however, disagrees when Chris (Rob Lowe) comes over to lift him out of what he perceives is “massive depression.” Ben continues to deny as he shows off his new recipe for calzones (a callback to an awkward conversation with the police chief where he expressed his love for the more practical and functional pizza alternative), and his foray into Claymation, or “Claymaysh” as he so coins. This B-plot might even be stronger than the main plot simply because it allows Adam Scott to be obnoxiously pitiful, and joyfully oblivious. Later on, Ben painfully tries to convince Chris that he is fine. He outlines his plans for Lo-cal Calzone Zone. in his confessional Chris admits it is literally the worst idea he has ever heard. Undeterred, he showcases his Claymaysh piece de resistance, “Requiem for a Tuesday.” When he actually watches, he is baffled and embarrassed. In three weeks he had only filmed his clay likeness getting out of bed, he breaks down and admits his deep depression.

Leslie’s rally starts to unravel when Pistol Pete refuses to dunk for Leslie. Apparently, dredging up his past is painful for him, and he wants to endorse her as his current self and not as his 17-year old, basketball star self. Across town Ron is pulled over in a rented truck trying to transport the materials for her stage. Ron, in rare form, gets the opportunity to dispute the law with the officer claiming that there is no “real” law that he is breaking. Except like four of them. OH! And guess who is along for the ride? Well, Tom, but also Andy and April with their new three-legged dog Champion. “Because he is the World’s champion of three-legged dogs.” Leslie motors over to save them, while leaving Ann to convince Pete to pull the old routine for her. What they both find out is the situation is much worse than anticipated. Ann uncovers that Pete is traumatized by his past because of how his father treated him. Leslie discovers that because the back of the truck was opened most of the wood, and part of the banner was Jetsons-ed (as Andy does not know the word jettisoned). Therefore, she may not have her star endorsement, a big enough enough, or a banner that shows her whole face.

When they arrive at the Pawnee Sports Center, the debacle continues. Thinking she is without Pistol Pete, Leslie rallies the troops, trying to adjust. But, alas, one more hurdle. When April called she forgot to mention they would need the basketball floor, but since the hockey team used the facilities most recently she must walk across ice to her minuscule podium, thus ushering in the funniest scene of the episode. No bunch like this one can quite execute this kind of slapstick. Between Champion peeing in Ron Swanson’s arms, Andy falling on his face, and all of them hoisting Leslie onto the tiny stage while “Get On Your Feet” plays in the background, it was truly an amusing struggle. As Leslie begins to fumble over her index cards since they were jostled while she was lifted onto the platform, Pistol Pete arrives! Thankfully, in an agreeable mood, he delivers the cheesy “Voting for Leslie Knope is a slam dunk” line and even attempts to dunk. I say “attempts” because he lands square on his tailbone due to the inherently slippery quality of ice.

Bringing both Ben and Leslie’s snafus to a resolution, Leslie predictably fires Ann, hiring Ben as her campaign manager. As the clearly more knowledgeable applicant, she discards any fear that his presence would be “poison” for her image and Ben willing takes the job despite Chris’s protective refusal. He needed a task, and she needed a stable expert. All is well for this charming couple as we’d hoped but they ride was as bumpy and delightful as we’d hoped.

Despite the unsurprising grasp these writers continue to display when writing for these band of misfits, it was just shy of a knock ‘em dead episode. Don’t get me wrong, this episode ups the ante for the amount of great lines/line deliveries. The Pistol Pete uses Ann as shrink bit fell flat though. It was a clever premise with no real meat to it. Any laughs were in theory as most of the interaction was off-screen. Also, with the sugary sweetness that both “Trial of Leslie Knope” and “Citizen Knope,” added to the mix, an already flawless recipe, my expectations were mighty high. Yet the time spent was an undeniable treat with a treasure trove of cackle-inducing lines and a “Dawwww” payoff at the end that revved up much of my sentimental attachment to this season. Feel-good, yet damn witty, and at times side splitting. Just how I like it. Therefore, since P&R’s staff continues to nail the authenticity of not only each individual’s quirkiness, but the group dynamic and all its sincerity I proudly grant the new year’s re-introduction to Pawnee politics with a A-.

L.O.L.Ls (Laugh out Loud Lines):

- “Oh Ann, you beautiful tropical fish.”

- Libertarianism courtesy of Ron Swanson: “I don’t wanna pain with a broad brush here, but every single contractor in the world is a miserable incompetent thief.”

- “In 1992, Pistol Pete’s last-second slam dunk clinched a victory over Eagleton High for the Pawnee Central Drunken Savages. Team mascot was later changed.”

- “Tom, be a man and sit on the lady’s lap!”

- “What’s that in the sole of my show? Red carpet. Everywhere I walk, I’m walking on red carpet.”

- “The past is great! Jitterbug, stagecoaches, Herman Munster.”

- Where are you? My mother’s butt, yeah that’s helpful.”

- “I’m kind of tearing this Claymation thing a new one.”

- “Windows are the eyes to the house.”

- “Can’t you do anything wrong, Jerry?”

- “Together we can beat…obese children. No wait…”

- “Don’t make out it’s making Champion sad.’

Leslie (Amy Poehler) and Ben (Adam Scott) have something to tell their boss (Rob Lowe).

What’s up Parks and Recreation fans! I’m your friendly neighborhood TV critic/intern Chris Peck, and I will be reviewing the best comedy on TV right now (in my humble opinion) weekly for your enjoyment. Since this show is in its 4th season, for the sake of time, I will jump right in for the loyal followers. Any who haven’t watched the show, do it! Or we cannot be friends. Evidently, my friendships are conditional.

Ron Swanson (Nick Offerman), the cutthroat libertarian with a heart of gold, is steadily creeping up the ranks to become my favorite comedic character of all time. He’s written to perfection. Anything he does makes me audibly chuckle at the screen and point admirably, “That’s so Ron Swanson.” This may seem obvious, but too often we see extraordinarily funny characters mold themselves into caricatures of themselves. Dwight, Jim and even Michael Scott from NBC Thursday night teammate, “The Office,” comes to mind. Therefore, to see Ron’s idiosyncrasies nailed through every scenario they thrust upon him must mean he’s also a writer’s favorite too.

Not only is it important you have a barometer for what my level of enjoyment for “Parks” is, but Ron persuaded me to grant “Trial” an A from the moment his computer was thrown in the dumpster. April’s deadpan delivery about the dangers of cookies, his bewilderment about how the computer could know his name, and his ultimate fear that anyone could see his house on Google Earth, all killed for me. Probably the most understated aspect of this cold open is Ron’s misguided understanding that it is this particular computer that has violated his privacy and so he must dispose of it immediately. Swanson, I love thee.

Now on to the equally delicious meat and potatoes. The message boards have been blowing up with weariness over the Leslie/Ben plot this season. Whether it was the typical nature of the will they/won’t they plot, the seemingly convoluted lengths the writers went to keep them apart, or how most promising sub-plots and additions to the Pawnee universe (Entertainment 720 among them) have been squandered in favor of the warmest and fuzziest couple of all time. Those concerns have been heard, and considered, but I believe this episode has squelched all those worries decisively. You would have to be dead inside to not adore Ben (Adam Scott) or Leslie (Amy Poehler) by the trial’s end, and dare I neglect to mention ETHEL FREAKING BEAVERS, the cutest old lady stenographer this side of TV land.

If there is any criticism to be had, (and the obnoxious cynic in me tried his damnedest and couldn’t find a thing), it might be that this episode was TOO darn sweet. Between Chris’ (Rob Lowe) supplementally aided attempts to avoid spiraling into depression (to fire Leslie would “have hurt him to the core,” and he focuses primarily on his core in his workouts), Ron’s “4th quarter” speech about what makes a person good, and the whole gang chipping in to help Leslie through what may have been her darkest hour, I was incredibly moved by this most genuine of communities. And lest I forget Ben’s epic declaration of love and sacrifice that compelled me to kneel and propose! The execution of seeing the secret meeting play out in one instance, and in the next the elderly court reporter reading the record aloud in a semi-engaged monotone was clutch material.

Every element, every character detail, all came together in what felt like one of the most significant, passionate smooches I’ve seen in a comedy. Of course the cliffhanger kiss is a trope that’s existed since man fiddled with the antennas atop the set, but this felt earned. Though more of our supporting cast is always appreciated, the collection of minor contributions worked for me. Andy read archaic legislation with no pictures, April tried to deflect the accusations on ETHEL BEAVERS (totally worthy of the caps lock), Ron gladly volunteered to “silence” any and all witnesses (though he was unwilling to divulge his home address in order to shore up Leslie’s alibi) and Tom willingly testified to kissing Leslie on the impulse of a joke, though he equated he act to kissing his sister’s elderly aunt—clearly all contributed in their own special way.

Chris sobbing violently in Ben’s lap, touched by Ben’s selflessness in taking the brunt of the blame for covering up the relationship, was an utterly hilarious visual gag. Kidding aside, my immediate feelings were a variation of the same. An almost primal reaction, impossible to suppress. I was all smiles for hours after viewing, and I still am beaming as I plug away at these keys, delighted that I got to spend this time in Pawnee. Clearly the podunk town is flawed (comically so) and it houses an assortment of basket cases, but at it’s center, sitting in support of their fallen leader in the council chambers, we found the best that people can offer us: family, love and belonging.

What does Leslie’s two-week suspension mean for her political career? Even she isn’t worried about that, despite her newly official boyfriend’s concern. Ben doesn’t seem all too preoccupied with his unemployment status either. And that’s okay. Because they have each other, and we have them. No more games, just Leslie, Ben, Ron (my ironic hero), Chris and Pawnee, Indiana. “Parks and Rec” is truly bold TV for going all in and delivering the relationship payoff only nine episodes in, and has only opened up the potential for more shakeups and hilarity. For bringing the funny and adorable like gentlest of ass-whoopings, I hereby sentence the accused episode with an A.

L.O.L.Ls (Laugh Out Loud Lines):

“You kidding? Bribing a public official to cover up a sex-capade? I like you even more!”

“Anne, text me every thirty seconds to tell me everything is gonna be okay…THANKS ANNE!”

“…You end up a frozen whore! I’m fighting.”

“Any women caught laughing is a witch.” “It’s true.”

“We got the gramps! I mean grants! Damn, it was going to be such a great moment.”

(sniffs audibly) “She’s here. Tammy 2. I can smell the sulfur from her cloven hooves.”

In response to learning Jerry’s real name is Garry. “God, they’re both horrible…I can’t get over this Jerry/Garry thing!”

Ben, while consoling Chris, “Let it out, I guess?”

Not a line, but another cute couple moment: Ben giving Leslie a Lil’ Sebastian horsey doll (CALLBACK!) and telling her he would be right behind that wall…where a portrait of a hideous monster-looking lawyer is hung. Leslie later informs us he is Marcus Everett “Stoneface” Langley. His nickname came from his steely demeanor in the courtroom. Also because when he got trapped in a rock quarry and his face was blown off by dynamite. Only LesBen, only LesBen. LesBen is officially trademarked by Christopher Peck and Blast Magazine…or I’m saying it is before the dwellers of the interwebs steal it!

NBC has given the full season orders to three of its shows: “Community,” the medical drama “Mercy” and the second season of “Parks and Recreation.”

All three episodes are getting decent ratings. “Community” averages about 5.7 million viewers. “Mercy” has 7.8, and “Parks” has 4.8 million weekly viewers.

“Parks and Recreation” has gotten markedly better as the season has gone on. We’re glad its staying.

What do you think of the three shows? What do you think of Jay Leno?

HGTV was number one last night among all cable channels with women and “upscale adults” when “Design Star” came on and just wiped the floor with everyone else.

We have a humongous night of television planned, with a crap-load of premieres including “Bones” on FOX at 8 and “Fringe” at 9. CBS starts “Survivor: Samoa: at 8 p.m., and the first NBC Saturday Night Live Weekend Update Thursday edition is at 8. Also on NBC, Amy Poehler’s new show “Parks & Recreation” starts at 8:30. Poehler was on “The View” yesterday talking about her baby — little rugrat’s already about a year old — and plugging the show.

Oh, and then a little show called “The Office” has its season premiere at 9. No biggie.

NBC rounds Thursday off with “Community” at 9:30.

FX will start a new season of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” tonight at 10, and they’re offering a sneak peak at “Archer” at 10:30.

We also learned today that National Geographic Channel will launch a sixth season of “Dog Whisperer” with Cesar Millan on October 9 at 9 p.m. The first episode details how to properly raise a puppy in an episode called “How to Raise the Perfect Dog.” There will be 30 new episodes this season, including “celebrity dogs.”

In other news MTV continues to not do anything involving music. They recently signed on for a show called “Warren the Ape,” combining celebrities and puppets set in a fictional reality show. Look out Emmy voters — this one’s coming sometime in 2010.

Finally on this cloudy Thursday here in Boston, pay attention to Ron Howard over the next few months. FOX recently gave him the nod for a new comedy show set inside an IRS district office. FOX ok’d a pilot, and it looks like Brent Forrester, the writer and director of “The Office” will be writing the script. This could be big.