This post contains spoilers through the November 10 episode of Community.

It’s been interesting for me how Community, a show that started with Jeff Winger as its main character, and began the formation of the study group when he met Britta, has evolved to a show that’s much more interesting about its three actual college-aged characters and much less interesting about its adults. To a certain extent I’m sorry about that: there’s a really interesting story to be told about adults who need to reset their lives, and how hard it is to do that. But I also really love Troy, Abed, and Annie, and think they’re the linchpin to the show’s best episodes, its explorations of the ritual stops on the pilgrimage to adulthood, run through a very Greendale lens.

That said, I totally appreciate the fact that this episode moved the ball forward on Shirley, at least a tiny bit, addressing the sort of aggressive resurgence of her religiosity we’ve seen this season. “I’ve seen enough episodes of Friends to know that cohabitation leads to sex, drugs, and something Parade Magazine calls Schwimmer Fatigue,” Shirley complains to Britta about Annie’s move, prompting Britta to try to prove that secular morality can go toe-to-toe with Christianity. Shirley’s dismay when she discovers that their hitchhiker believes himself to be Jesus, and when he declares, in response to Britta’s question, that marijuana “was given to us by God. It should be legal,” is pretty priceless. But it’s nice that they end up reaching a common consensus that their passenger is nuts after he says that “And now, with your permission, I’d like to sing a little song about race mixing called ‘Don’t Do It.’” The show doesn’t have to have them talk about it, but they’ve found the thing that’s just too much for both of them.

I’m less fond of the Dean’s role in this episode. His deal with Jeff has always been a little creepy, but he’s crossed the line here from slightly off to outright predator. If he’d spied on the email of a female student, using that to force her into a date, people would—rightly—be horrified. If the Dean was a woman, this would be some Fatal Attraction territory. Instead, because Jeff is a guy who is more physically imposing than the Dean and who we assume couldn’t be physically coerced by him, the show treats the Dean’s emotional coercion of him as if it’s sort of adorable. There’s no question that their “Kiss From a Rose” duet was fun (and two of the best recent moments in the series have come from study group sing-a-longs), but I’ll be pretty uncomfortable if the show treats this as if it’s no big deal. This is Quinn-tries-to-get-Shelby-declared-unfit on Glee territory: it’s just not okay to behave this way, and narratively to treat it as if this is behavior that carries no major implication for the characters.

It was counterbalanced by the fact that this was a very good episode for Troy, Abed, and Annie. I thought it was a usefully forceful reminder that there are things that are objectively desirable about being a grown-up, and that wanting them doesn’t make you dull. “”Living here’s going to be fun all the time!” Annie tells herself—as much as Troy and Abed—after the puppet show, momentarily forgetting that when things are fun all the time, they’re not necessarily that fun after a while. And Troy and Abed confess that they could really use Annie’s expertise: “There’s a couple of things that you’d help us with,” Abed tells her. “Like where does the water go in the iron?” Troy explains. “And what is the iron for?” Abed chimes in. And while I do think there’s something weird about the fact that none of these attractive young people are dating, keeping them the children in a chosen family rather than actual adults, there’s something really nice about the fact that Annie and Troy have moved past their high school dynamic, her crush on him and his total ignorance of her, to become just good, solid friends.

Spencer Ackerman is, of course, an ace defense reporter, but I really love it when he writes about culture. And I particularly appreciated this meditation on the New York punk club that was critically important to him growing up, because I think it reflects, to come back to a perpetual hobby-horse, the kind of norm-building it would be great to do in fan communities and at conventions:

Above my desk I keep a photograph that my wife bought for me of ABC No Rio. ABC No Rio is a punk club and (former?) squat on Rivington Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan where every Saturday afternoon a motley assortment of bands perform. I think of it as the punk rock version of the Boys & Girls Club, because that was the role it played for me as a teenager…it was supposed to be a place where you would be made to feel unwelcome if you groped someone in the pit; if you made a homophobic or racist remark; or if you engaged in otherwise destructive behavior.

You could be drunk or high and have sex — you weren’t supposed to be, but no one was really going to stop you — but if that translated into behavior that threatened others, your ass would be kicked out. It was filled with contradictions — a scene that supposedly glorified nihilism and free expression being so rigid? — but they were resolved, intellectually speaking, according to the baseline principle that those were the basic social responsibilities needed for the world in which we wanted to live to exist, a haven from the aggravating bullshit around us.

Again, these principles were never fully realized. I know women who were abused at ABC No Rio. I am thinking in particular of one individual who got away with it, probably because of his scene cred. I cringe at the idea that this piece will come across as treacly or sanitized. These are the reflections of a straight white boy who came up in the mid-90s and who went on to do all manner of bad things in his life. Your mileage may vary.

But it was important that these were the basic values that you were expected to adopt if you wanted to be part of what ABC No Rio was.

When I wrote about my experience at New York Comic Con, I noted how level the crowd seemed, how there were no particular signifiers of coolness. It also didn’t feel, for me, at least, like an unsafe space. The female cosplayers I saw getting their pictures taken mostly seemed to be objects of admiration because their costumes were completely and utterly awesome, less because they were intensely sexual or revealing. And almost no vendors were employing booth babes, perhaps in a sign that strategy is played out, though we’ll see when I hit San Diego Comic Con next year.

But despite that generally neutral atmosphere, it would still be great if there was a way to sell en masse the idea the dominant culture at cons was inclusive and oriented against harassment. Some changes, like panelists making a conscious effort to treat questioners who raise issues of representation and inclusiveness in art with respect, even if the questions are tough, would be relatively easy. Others, like adopting sexual harassment policies and training staff to enforce them, would take slightly more effort. But none of this is impossible. And even if enforcement’s inconsistent, the effort is important.

This post contains spoilers through the Season 4 premiere of Parks and Recreation. Also, me freaking out a little.

It’s sort of depressing that this is the case, but I really believe that years from now, this episode of Parks and Recreation is going to be help up as a major moment in romantic comedy. To have a piece of pop culture where not only is love, or the possibility of love, not the highest value, but where the highest expression of love can be to let someone chase their dreams rather than stay with you, is genuinely revolutionary in a pop culture that preaches either that women need to get over their workaholism or that women can have it all. It helps that the episode was beautifully acted. But I hope that people recognize the writing here for the accomplishment that it is.

I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Ann raised the prospect of Leslie not running for City Council to stay with Ben, and Leslie responded automatically, “Which is out of the question.” I knew Leslie was going to make a compromise, but I was terrified that the show would decide to have her choose Ben, regret it, and get into the race late. The show’s always taken a slightly silly tack on Leslie’s ambition, whether through something like the omnipresent headshots in her office, or her explanation that “I was playing with the Geraldine Ferraro Action Figure. That I made myself.” But to have Leslie insist, and the people around her support, the idea that this is the dream of Leslie’s life is genuinely beautiful. It is such a higher exhibition of love for Ben to tell her, “Everything you’ve accomplished, you have earned and you have worked for. I don’t want anyone to think you got where you are by sleeping with your boss,” than to try to keep her with him.

And as I argued in April, this episode was a real victory for the idea that it’s Leslie’s optimism in government that is validated by Parks and Recreation, not Ron Swanson’s libertarianism. It makes sense that when Leslie runs from her fear of breaking up with Ben, she runs to Ron, who has fled his ex-wife with what is apparently an emergency camping kit and a warning to get the beef chuck out of his desk before it goes bad. Leslie and Ron are each other’s reality checks, a balancing act between extreme optimism and extreme pessimism about the potential of government. But tonight, Ron affirms Leslie’s most private dreams. “I might not win,” she tells him. “You’ll win,” Ron insists. And the show could have stopped there, letting Ron groan about the inevitable big-government liberalism that will propel Leslie into office. But it doesn’t. “I might not run,” Leslie suggests, still turning the idea over in her mind. “You should,” Ron affirms. Because at the end of the day, Ron’s skepticism about government doesn’t actually include Leslie. Her optimism and competence are just overpowering, inspiring Andy to competence, Ann to persevere through an inbox that is “literally filled with penises.”

This wasn’t the funniest-ever episode of Parks and Recreation, but it strikes me as a genuinely important one, from Leslie’s run; to Chris’ unquestioning support for Ann once she becomes an accidental sexual harassment victim; to Leslie’s emergence as the perfect campaigner when she tells an interviewer “When men in government behave this way, it betrays the public’s trust. Maybe it’s time for more women to be in charge.” These are little things. But the episode was a weird glimpse of what it would be like to live in a much more feminist world than the one we actually reside in. And it’s hopeful, and funny, and genuine. And I want to go to there, much more than I’ve ever wanted to go to any slight alternate universe I’ve seen on a sitcom.

It’s always nice to see powerful pop culture figures use their drawing power for good, so I get a kick out of the fact that the Beatles apparently included routine desegregation clauses in their concert contracts. Something like this could actually be a good way to force conventions to start adopting good sexual harassment policies. If Hall H participants, for example, said they wouldn’t agree to screen movies unless San Diego Comic Con got it together to create and enforce a sexual harassment policy, I imagine that would come together fairly quickly. Similarly, if a critical mass of much sought-after panelists set the same condition — and it would have to be a really large group of people, composed of both men and woman — they could probably make quality sexual harassment policies an industry standard fairly quickly. The key is just getting momentum going, maybe with the enlistment of a big name in nerddom like Joss Whedon.