Wednesday, April 3


Considering it's been brought to my attention so many times during the past 18 or so hours that knowledge has been out, I feel as though I'd be doing a disservice if I didn't at least comment on the all-the-sudden holy union that's occurred between Leslie Knope and DJ Douche.

I mean, think about it — if news of it is coming out around now and has spread this rapidly, that means it's likely real — and that they fell in love while, what, Amy's character was flopping around in Jello on Parks & Rec!? It just all sounds so juvenile and cute, and while I know that life is weird and love is blind, my two eyeblobs can't see past the fact that, I don't know, I kind of sorta thought...she could do better.

Now, now, I know all we want in this world is for Amy Poehler to be happy, and even I myself elevated Nicholas Krollian to Dream Boyfriend status, but that was for someone like me. Or you. Or, a random LA hottie who's into pilates and is helping out with a friend's jewelry collection that's doing, like, really, really well. Not for one of the most well-rounded, talented, caring individuals in the entertainment business, not to mention the world. Let's be real here — Amy Poehler is like the Mother Theresa to all things comedic, and I just can't help but think that she deserves to be with someone different after her divorce.

Here's the thing. Will Arnett is a wonderful man, and an incredibly handsome one, but far and away has become a complete egomaniac. No one — NO ONE! — who is only lightly committed to their image looks like they've been dipped in a vat of burnt popcorn oil without being fully obsessed with looking at themselves in a mirror. Here's Will, in 2004:

Pale as the day is long, lanky as you've ever seen and non-coincidentally, fresh into his marriage.

Here's Will just last year:

CRIPES ALL MIGHTY. Only overly confident '70s mafiosos and porn stars can pull off that pathetic excuse for a moustache, not to mention that his face is legitimately darker than the makes-me-look-Brazilian bronzer I own that's a different shade of human from the one on my face.

When her and Will Arnett split up — inferrably so he could bang someone younger and not responsible for feeding and trucking his children off to school, because that's kind of how it always is — Amy kind of got the shit end of the stick. The shitty, shit end of the taking care of the kids and being a divorced yet still bootiful mom that's likely too busy to date stick, and sorry, but after all that, she should be pulling some massive d. She should be traipsing around a foreign country on cobblestone streets with Michael Fassbender, deciding she's just kinda "meh" on him and then tucking away on George Clooney's yacht to relax afterwards. She's more than welcome to, whatever, eat a chicken sandwich on Sunset Boulevard with the Jewiest looking comics in the biz, but Poehler's a saint. A goddess! She shouldn't be with an elevated everyman like Nicky K-roll. She should be with someone who's a little more like...

Ahh. That's better.

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