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Under the patient guidance of Coach Beiste, the McKinley High Titans have miraculously emerged from the latest football season with a winning record, and are therefore headed on towards the conference championship game -- in Ohio, in February. Unfortunately, Dave Karofsky's ongoing Capital-I Issues with his sexual orientation have led him into an openly antagonistic relationship with Finn and the other male Glee Clubbers, both on the field and off, with all of the non-singing football players backing him up for some reason that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
With her players thus so divided, and despairing of her team's chances at that conference game in Ohio in February, Coach Beiste turns to Mr. Schue for advice. Just go with it. Will, of course, suggests they build bridges between Karofsky & Ko. and New Directions by forcing the non-Glee football players to join show choir for a week, and the results are initially as disastrous as one would expect. Somehow, though, he convinces everyone involved that a super-spectacular halftime performance inspired by a 30-year-old music video will make them all, like, totally cool, and Karofsky even starts emerging from his hostile shell during the joint rehearsal sessions, but everything goes to hell when Karofsky & Ko. find themselves slushied by the much-loathed yet gloriously bemulleted puckheads of McKinley's hockey team.
Because of all that, Karofsky and his compatriots flat-out refuse to participate in the super-spectacular halftime festivities, but Coach Beiste stands her ground and boots every single one of them off the team, effective immediately, even though that means she's heading into that conference game in Ohio in February with only five players. Fortunately, Rachel and Mercedes decide to visit Kurt and Blaine over at not-gay-at-all Dalton Academy, and avid gridiron aficionado Blaine comes up with a solution I totally didn't understand, because I am proud to count myself as one of the many, many queers who still hate football. Blaine's proposed solution, however, leads to the Glee Gals volunteering themselves as replacements for Karofsky & Ko., and for yet another reason that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, it works.
Meanwhile, Sue Sylvester's got her track bottoms all knotted up in a nasty wad because the cheerleaders' Nationals are week, and her lack of inspiration threatens to derail her chances for a record-breaking seventh consecutive title. Sue decides that her only course of action is to shoot Brittany out of a carny cannon at a key moment during the Cheerios' routine, but when Brit-Brit -- with the support of both Quinn and Santana Lopez, surprisingly enough -- balks, Sue completely loses her cool and forces all three of them to resign from New Directions.
Everything comes to a head on the night of The Big Game in Ohio in February, with the other team rather predictably kicking the Titans' diminished ass until Puck and Finn work a little magic both to convince the recalcitrant non-singing football players to perform at halftime and to rescue the cheerleading Glee Gals from Sue's evil clutches so they might do the same. Everyone in the stands of course goes gaga for the halftime routine -- even Karofsky so loses himself in the moment that he joins the others on the field for the grand finale -- and with her team thus so happily reconstituted, Coach Beiste goes on to lead the Titans to victory. In Ohio. In February.
Sadly, the loss of Quinn, Brittany, and Santana Lopez means that Sue also loses what would have been her record-breaking seventh consecutive Nationals title, and she's forced to endure the abject humiliation of a Katie Couric interview. I've a feeling Sue'll bounce back by week's episode, though. Call it a hunch.
Featuring the hateful Katy Perry's equally hateful "California Gurls," performed by the Cheerios, their flaming boobs, and a bunch of guys on dirt bikes; Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now," performed by Puck and Rachel; 1950s advertising classic "See The U.S.A. In Your Chevrolet," performed by most of New Directions during the episode's first commercial break; "She's Not There" from The Zombies, performed by the McKinley High Titans; "Bills, Bills, Bills" from Destiny's Child, as trilled by Dreamboat Blaine and The Dalton Academy Gays; and, finally, the much-hyped mash-up of a thirty-year-old music video with some song I never heard before, as performed by everyone and their mom during the halftime show.
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Want more? The full recap starts right below!As the introductory vamp of Katy Perry's "California Gurls" assaults our ear-holes, the camera snaps open on an anonymous, blue-wigged Cheerio, who's sporting a skimpy bikini top over her carwash skirt while twirling a flaming whip above her head. After a few seconds of this, the lithe Lima kitten lashes a brief tongue of fire out towards the lens, and we're off. The shot immediately pulls back to reveal Sue Sylvester -- positively regal in her finest Nancy Reagan-red tracksuit, the one with the daring black-and-white racing stripes down the sides -- presiding over what's obviously a rehearsal of the Cheerios' latest daring routine, this one featuring not only the finest scantily clad jailbait western Ohio has to offer, but also a bunch of BMX-boy randoms casually tossing off what I'm guessing are meant to be thrilling aerial stunts on a set of ramps set up especially for this purpose in the middle of McKinley High's gymnasium. Fire pots belch rhythmically in the background. One young lady works her flaming hula hoop to death as other members of the squad prance around her, and as impressive as that is, I think my favorite bit comes when four especially enthusiastic gals materialize center stage to skip around whilst spinning their fire poi about in various eye-dazzling configurations. The grand finale involves two particularly pert Cheerios igniting their WMHS-emblazoned cone bras to lead the rest of their compatriots in a sparkly Glamazon stomp of high-attitude elegance down the middle of the backflipping BMXers, and once it's over, Sue raises her trusty megaphone to her mouth to blare, "I'M BORED." And you know what? Sue's got a point. Delightful as this particular opening was -- despite the dreadful so-called "song" it was set to -- it sure as hell didn't come anywhere close to "Ray Of Light" on stilts, to offer only one example of the Cheerios' storied past routines, but perhaps I'd better let Sue Sylvester explain her crushing sense of ennui in her own words.
First, however, she has a request: "Brittany, please remind me of how I single-handedly put cheerleading on the map." Brit-Brit, looking surprisingly fetching in her hideous Smurf-blue Katy Perry wig, rotely recites, "In 1979, you directed a made-for-TV movie about the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders called The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders." I had no idea Sue Sylvester directed that masterpiece -- which really needs to be released on DVD, and soon -- but I digress, for Sue follows up with the rhetorical inquiry, "And in the meantime, what's changed?" "Personal grooming habits?" Quinn slyly guesses. "What's changed," Sue corrects her, "is I have completely lost interest, and ladies? I blame you!" The camera pans past Brit-Brit's sad little chastened expression to land on Santana's typically smug moue before cutting back to Sue, who turns to her enforcer, Becky, with the order to distribute "more silicone falsies." As Becky complies, dipping into a red McKinley Titans bucket for the slimy-looking things, Sue instructs, "You will each enhance your bust with an additional pair of chicken cutlets in an attempt to add some jiggle to what is the most boring routine I have ever witnessed!" [And yet she hated Santana's breast implants... - Zach]
"But," Quinn protests, "this is the most elaborate routine the Cheerios have ever done -- we're shoo-ins at Regionals week, and we're the favorite to win at Nationals!" "And yet," Sue counters, once again raising her trusty megaphone to her lips, "I am SO VERY BORED." "Even things I used to think were hilarious!" Sue grieves. "Case in point," she continues, lasering her focus in on Santana. "Sandbags! Slap yourself with a chicken cutlet." Santana heaves a put-upon sigh, but obediently whaps herself in the face with one of the falsies. Hee. "Now slap Brittany," Sue orders. Brit-Brit stoically takes a cutlet to the nose. "See?" Sue shrugs. "Not even a chuckle." "The problem is, you keep trying to make a bigger and bigger spectacle," Quinn brazenly interrupts, expertly managing to smack the audience in its collective schnozz with a bit of metacommentary regarding this series' direction over the last year and a half at the same time. "No matter how hard we try," Quinn complains whilst continuing with the metacommentary, "we can't make a routine work unless you find a way to make it interesting for you!" Because it's all about Ryan Murphy, apparently. "You have to find a way to top yourself," Quinn concludes, and her argument seems to have struck a chord with Sue. "You just may have a point," Sue concedes, "but to be sure, slap yourself with a chicken cutlet." Title card.
The camera snaps up on the cheering crowds thronging McKinley High's football stadium in Ohio in February before sweeping past a few pertinent series regulars on the sidelines to settle on Titans quarterback Finn out on the field. There are five seconds left on the clock in the fourth quarter, with McKinley leading the opposition, 17 to 14, and Frankenteen turns to his huddled teammates to express his admiration for them while excitedly expositing, "We didn't even have to win this game to go to Championships week, but nobody took it off, and when we take a knee, we're gonna finish first in conference for the first time in McKinley history!" I'M BORED. Puck, however, is not, and he enthuses, "Football is back, bitches!" as various other members of the team go "Woo!" Designated second-season villain Dave Karofsky, however, is not nearly as stoked, and he sardonically snorts, "Maybe we should all break out into a song after we win." I am SO VERY BORED. Unfortunately, this football-and-Karofsky crap represents a major portion of tonight's A story, so I have little choice but to deal with it. Fortunately, I can keep it brief: Long story short, the tiresome closet case remains extremely antagonistic towards the male Glee Clubbers -- especially Finn, for whatever reason -- and he again threatens to leave Finn exposed to the other side's tackles (or whatever the hell you call them), so when the time arrives for the final play of the game, Finn chokes, missing the snap completely. The ball bounces in the dirt for a second before it's snatched up by one of the Titans' opponents, who then runs it in for a touchdown, and it's a very good thing the Titans needn't have won this game to advance into the finals, because they just totally biffed it by three points. Coach Beiste angrily overturns the Gatorade table as the stadium's crowd lets its collective face fall, and shortly after Karofsky makes some sneering remark I'll not be bothering to transcribe, the shot cuts over to...
...the post-game locker room, where Coach Beiste proceeds to bawl out her guilty-looking charges. When Beiste demands an explanation from Finn, he immediately lights into Karofsky, and the whole aggravating screamfest quickly descends into a freewheeling brawl until it magically stops so Karofsky can shout, "Championship game or not, I am not blocking for him!" He jabs a pissy little finger in Finn's direction on that line, of course, and Coach Beiste -- by now almost as fed up with this bullshit as I am -- kicks him out of the room. Finn takes out his frustrations on a blameless garbage can, and then we're off to...
...Sue's office to listen in as her voiceover dictates yet another of her fabulous diary entries like so: "Dear Journal, I am in crisis. Not even the can't-lose combination of boobs and fire can get me going anymore. Is it the raccoon hormones my new doctor gave me?" Hee. "Here I am," Sue's voiceover continues, "thirty-one, and already a legend. What do I do as a second act? I'm simply at a loss -- last week, I even took to modifying my own flawless form just to feel something!" Midway through that last line, the camera smeared over to Last Week, where we find Sue face-down and apparently topless as an elaborately inked tattoo artist colors in a magnificent, full-back representation of a be-haloed Sue smiling sassily as she displays her latest state-of-the-art digital stopwatch with obvious pride. One problem: "Wait," the tattoo artist frowns while proofing the name he's just etched into her skin. "It's 'Syvlester,' right? 'Sue Syvlester'?" Flashback Sue's eyes widen with horror before we smear back to the present, where Sue's voiceover concludes its latest journal entry with the following questions: "How do I make things interesting again? How do I get those juices flowing?" Fortuitously enough, at this very moment of Sue's deepest despair, her high-definition flat-screen TV happens to tune itself over to an old Krazy Kat cartoon in which the titular hero sets off a comically large cannon. "That's it!"
A dire dramatic flourish of absolutely cinematic proportions hits the soundtrack as the camera cuts to pan lovingly down the barrel of the spectacularly large stunt cannon Sue arranged to have set up in the last two seconds out on the football field. Clad in an ominous, puffy, track suit-inspired ankle-length coat the color of blackest night, and with her trusty enforcer at her side, Sue smiles up at the massive thing before addressing its grizzled carnival geek of an owner thusly: "You say this could shoot someone across a football field?" "Several football fields," the grizzled geek confirms, "if you pack in enough explosives." "Of course," he adds, "that would be incredibly unsafe -- see, if you wanna go fer more'n, say, fifty yards, yer lookin' about a seventy percent chance of cat-a-stroph-ic failure." "Which is a thirty percent chance of catastrophic success!" Sue gloats. "This is the button, right?" she asks, already pressing it before the question's properly out of her mouth, and the maintenance guy who'd been greasing up the insides of the thing instantly goes hurtling through the air, soaring over the goalposts at the far end of the field before tumbling into a safety net someone thoughtfully set up for him in the end zone. Trust me: It's far, far funnier than it has any right to be. And while Sue tries to make a habit of "not touching carny folk," she's so impressed with this fantastic display of the cannon's power that she can't help but shake the grizzled geek's hand. "I'm back!" she exults, drawing The Enforcer in for a hearty, back-slapping side-hug.
Meanwhile, over in one of McKinley's halls, Artie's found himself cornered by eight of his slushie-laden teammates, all of whom are being led, of course, by Karofsky and Azimio. SO VERY BORED. The jocks dump their slushies out on Artie's head, and with that, we're off to...
...the teacher's lounge, where Coach Beiste and Will chat about the ongoing glee-related strife over lunch. Coach Beiste, by the way, seems to be enjoying an entire roast chicken this afternoon, washing it all down with a full quart of orange juice. Just so you know. Anyway, she lectures him at length regarding the supposed benefits a championship-winning high school football team brings to its community, and frets that the rift opening between her glee and non-glee players will deprive Lima of same. Will has A Brilliant Idea. Will always has A Brilliant Idea.
Music Room. Artie wheels in, soaked to the skin, and everyone reacts as if this is the very first time anyone's ever gotten a frozen drink flung in his face on this show. Finn vows revenge, and he takes off towards the door with Puck, Lady Lips, and Gaylord Weiner fully intending to back him up, so it's quite a surprise for the boys when Karofsky and his crew lumber in from the hall. Coach Beiste, you see, had ordered the non-glee football players to meet her in the music room, because Will's Brilliant Idea is this: If the überjocks spend the seven days singing with New Directions, they'll finally understand how cool glee club really is, and Karofsky will stop hassling Finn, thereby allowing the Titans to emerge triumphant from week's championship game. Yes, it's a completely dunderheaded plan, but none of us should be expecting anything better from Mr. Schue at this point in the series' run, so let's all just go with it, okay? Naturally, the children immediately howl their disapproval, but alas, only Azimio ends up with a funny line about it. "If I have to stay," he loudly warns, "I ain't singin' no showtunes -- that is the music of my oppressors!"
In an attempt to prove to Azimio and the other louts that showtunes are but one small part of New Directions' repertoire -- and an increasingly vanishing part at that, much to yours truly's immense annoyance -- Mr. Schue suggests Rachel and Puck perform the ballad they've been working on, and after Rachel allows herself one last massive snit fit over Karofsky's sullying presence in the music room, she and Puck take the floor to offer us their rendition of Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now." So, you know, if you need to run to the bathroom or anything like that, now would be the time to do it.
Get everything taken care of, then? Excellent. Once Rachel and Puck's blandly competent performance of a song I will never feel the need to listen to again is over, Azimio shouts out, "The girl with the mohawk had a really nice voice!" Puck immediately goes after Azimio with an acoustic guitar, and a generalized melee ensues with Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste caught up in the middle of it all until we hop over into this evening's first commercial break.
And oh, what a commercial break it is! If you missed it when it aired. as I nearly did, it's here, with a companion behind-the-scenes making-of video over here. You really owe it to yourself to give it a look, if only for Santana's hysterical rictus of absolutely insane mindless ecstasy at the prospect of winning a free car in the bits framing Rachel's over-elaborate (natch) fantasy sequence. And though it pains me to say this, that commercial's easily the best production number this show's given us in months.
We return to find Puck and Finn staring at the football team's trophy case in McKinley's main hall, and long story short, they agree to set aside their past differences in order to win that championship game in Ohio in February that everybody's been talking about. BORED.
Meanwhile, out on the field, Sue's assembled the Cheerios around that massive stunt cannon of hers, which she's appealingly had repainted in McKinley's school colors. She introduces the device to the ladies as her "Suclear Weapon" and has The Enforcer christen it with a bottle of champagne. As that dire cinematic flourish reappears on the soundtrack, Sue grins, "Brittany? Climb on up!" "Congratulations!" Sue continues as all of the light drains from poor Brit-Brit's face, replaced by an expression of pure dimwitted unease. "You're doing this stunt for the big competition!" "I don't wanna die yet," Brittany bleats, "least not until One Tree Hill gets cancelled." "Fine!" Sue growls, and she motions for three of her underlings to step forward with a lifelike Brit-Brit mannequin, which they load into the cannon's barrel as Sue shouts, "Put your toddler's-fist-sized mind to rest -- we'll do one final test run!" Once the mannequin's loaded, Sue tamps it down with a comically large ramrod, then steps over to the control panel. The resulting explosion, of course, blasts Brit-Brit's mannequin to bits, with the thing's limbless torso tumbling furthest downfield. Sue coolly eyes all of this until that limbless torso's executed its final flip, then asks of the assembled ladies, "Any of you take German? I may have to read the owner's manual."
Once Sue's stalked off, Brittany retrieves her inanimate doppelganger's charred head from the ground with a look of vacant distress on her face as Quinn assures her she'll have a word with Mr. Schue about the whole thing, and the thing we know, we've shot over to...
...The Maharishi's office, where Figgins himself chides Sue with a vehemence unusual for the man. "What the hell were you thinking?" The Maharishi howls as Will slowly shakes his badly coiffed head. "You cannot perform a stunt that dangerous," Figgins continues. "Our insurance premium is through the roof as it is!" Sue calmly counters that cheerleading is a sport, and therefore subject to the same level of danger as any other school-sponsored physical activity. Will, of course not buying it, yells at her for putting poor Brit-Brit's life at risk, and though Sue strenuously argues her position in response to Will's outrage, The Maharishi overrules her, and insists she cannot fire Brit-Brit out of the cannon without Brit-Brit's explicit consent. Sue's response? Well, given that "O Fortuna" kicks in on the soundtrack at this point, I think you can guess. As part of her howling She-Hulk rampage, Sue first destroys Figgins's reception area, then takes it all out into the hallways, where several deserving weaklings find themselves blown back against the lockers when they foolishly fail to get out of her way. Back in The Maharishi's office, Will just shakes his badly coiffed head around again and deadpans, "That's a lawsuit."
Jump to the locker room, where Will's filling Coach Beiste in on Sue's latest antics. He needn't have bothered, because as "O Fortuna" reappears on the soundtrack, Sue invades Coach Beiste's sanctum to hurl various Gatorade barrels and chunks of protective gear around. Alas, she has a more than just a little difficulty launching several medicine balls into the air, but she more than makes up for that by ferociously dismantling every free-standing shelving unit in the room until Beiste bellows, "What the hell are you doing?" "I'm sending a message," Sue replies, temporarily triumphant. "Sue Sylvester's done playing nice!" You see, she's just gotten off the phone with the Ohio cheerleading board, which agreed to reschedule Regionals for the very same night as the football championship game, thereby depriving Beiste of both her halftime show and her cheerleaders. I'd wonder when the hell they started incorporating halftime shows into high school football games, but it is so not worth the effort. In any event, Sue sweeps out of the locker room in much the same manner in which she entered it, leaving Beiste to gloom, "What the crap are we gonna do now?" Play the fucking stupid game anyway, maybe? Just a suggestion. A suggestion they're not going to take, of course, because Will's come up with Yet Another Brilliant Idea. This should suck.
And wouldn't you know it? It totally does. While at first they merely allude to Will's solution back in the music room, where Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue have reassembled their warring factions, it quickly becomes clear the adults plan to have all of the children -- even the ones who should be spending the precious minutes involved back in the locker room preparing for the rest of the game -- prancing about on the fifty-yard line in place of the Cheerios at halftime. To their immense credit, the children vociferously object to this bit of mind-bending stupidity, but Mr. Schue shuts them down with, "We don't have a choice -- if we don't do it, there's no halftime show." Lauren, God love her, speaks for me when she wonders aloud, "And this is a problem because...?" Coach Beiste blathers that the situation represents an opportunity for them, and the überjocks instantly leap on that assertion to agree that it'll be an opportunity for everyone to humiliate themselves, and it goes on like that for a very long while until Mr. Schue shouts everybody else down to announce his grand plan for the halftime routine: A mash-up of that dead child molester's "Thriller" and something called "Heads Will Roll" by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Brittany, Santana and Quinn, of course, will be allowed to choose which event they'll attend, but participation is mandatory for everyone else, and with that, Coach Beiste barks, "We're goin' to Zombie Camp!" Actually, I'm pretty sure we're goin' to the commercial break, but then again, what the hell do I know?
After the break, we return to find the children lurching about the stage in the McKinley auditorium under the watchful eyes of Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue. After they all master some semblance of a routine, the kiddies head off for a zombie makeup session (which would be a session wherein they learn to apply zombie makeup to themselves, not a session in which they... oh, never mind), with the notable exception of Karofsky, who's been called aside by an especially furrowed Mr. Schue for a little chat. BORED. Long story short, Mr. Schue urges Karofsky to take all of the energy the latter's been using to bully his fellow students and channel it into something more productive. Like, you know, show choir. And as The Plaintive Piano Of Nascent Redemption Arcs plonks away in the background, Karofsky looks suitably, um, chastened? Heartened? Gassy? Something like that.
Back in the music room, the camera pans across the various children as they apply rather complex and pricey latex prosthetics to their faces in front of a set of jury-rigged makeup mirrors until it finally lands on Finn, who's fussing with a particularly professional-looking application on his cheek. As The Plaintive Piano Of Nascent Redemption Arcs continues to plonk away in the background, Karofsky rolls on up behind him, and long story short, Karofsky proposes the gents whip up a "warm-up number" before they attempt the full halftime extravaganza. Finn, unsurprisingly enough, agrees to the plan.
Cut to The Novak, where we find Santana, Brittany and Quinn in mid-chat as they remove their practice zombie faces. In case you're wondering why they didn't take care of that back in the music room, Quinn soon makes it clear they retreated to the relative privacy of The Novak to hash out their whole competing-loyalties situation. As she puts it, "If we go to our cheerleading competition, then we miss the halftime show, and we're out of glee club." Really, Quinn? 'Cause I thought Mr. Schue made it pretty clear in the scene that you were free to choose one or the other. Oh, fuck it. Even if they're out of the club this week, they're certain to be back in it the , because that's the way these things go on this goddamned show, so why am I even bothering to ask? In any event, no sooner has Quinn announced to all and sundry that this decision is tearing her apart than a toilet flushes behind them. Sue, of course, emerges from the relevant stall with a too-casual, "Couldn't help but overhear your conversation!" "What were you doing in there?" Quinn demands, instantly suspicious. "Enjoying," Sue replies, "the eavesdropping afforded me by the Swiss timepiece regularity and utter silence of my 2 PM ninja poops." Sue knows she's got the gals' collective back against the wall, and she avails herself of the opportunity this presents to hand them pre-printed resignation letters, which they are to sign and present to Mr. Schue before the end of the day. She also hands a special note from "The Human Cannon" to Brittany -- "handwritten and in crayon," no less -- in which the sad cannon attempts to convey how much it misses her. In pictographs. Hee. Quinn once again protests that the sad human cannon will very likely get Brit-Brit killed long before her precious One Tree Hill is cancelled, and questions whether "a stupid national championship" is worth it. Sue acidly reminds Quinn that the "stupid national championship" involved will, in fact, be McKinley's seventh consecutive national title, so yeah: It totally is. Oh, and by the by, didn't Quinn already live through one horrible year thanks to the loss of her Cheerios status? Does she really want to live through another? Think about it, Q.
Moments later, having apparently thought quite hard about it indeed, Quinn presents Mr. Schue with her letter of resignation. Brit-Brit and Santana are there, too, but Quinn's the one who really matters, as evidenced by...
...the very scene, in which Frankenteen lurches up to her locker to upbraid her for the mass resignation, and because they're both still acting like it was Mr. Schue who forced the issue by insisting she choose one or the other despite the fact that he never did anything of the kind, I'm going to ignore the argument that follows. Eventually, Lady Lips Von Beiberhausen wanders up from somewhere else to yell at Frankenteen for yelling at his girlfriend, and the two boys get into a really funny little shoving match, all "Bring it!" and "Brung!" and "That all you got?" and "You want some more?" until the suddenly appearing Mr. Schue leaps into the midst of the entirely girly fray to break it all up.
Auditorium. The jocks, both über and otherwise, have magically reapplied their complex and pricey latex prosthetics at some point during the last three seconds and are now in the midst of performing Karofsky's proposed warm-up number, which they magically orchestrated, mastered, costumed and choreographed while they were reapplying their complex and pricey latex prosthetics. But perhaps I should save my mockery for another moment, because this version of "She's Not There" by The Zombies is both beyond solid and the only in-episode number I actually enjoyed this evening. Then again, and as others before me have noted, it's pretty hard to fuck this song up. Of course, the limited melody's perfect for Cory Monteith's limited vocal range, so he doesn't sound like he's been Auto-Tuned all the way to hell and back, and that does tend to help things along immensely, doesn't it?
In any event, when the singing is over and the crazy zombie antics have ceased, everyone agrees that the whole thing was Capital-A Awesome, so the jocks, both über and otherwise, decide to strut their newfound stuff in badass slow-motion through McKinley's main hall, each still in full makeup. Unfortunately, the hockey-haired hockey team -- and let me repeat that: "the hockey-haired hockey team" -- isn't nearly as impressed with the fellows' accomplishment, and slushies the lot of them at the first opportunity.
Smash to the locker room showers, where Karofsky squeals like a pig as he tries and fails to rinse the burning sensation out of his eyes. The Glee Guys, of course, are all, "Pfft. You'll get used to it," but this attitude only serves to enrage Karofsky more, and he announces his intention to quit the glee club -- which, you know, he's not officially a member of in the first place -- effective immediately. On cue, Coach Beiste barges in to warn that quitting glee means he's off the team -- which: Whatever! -- so Karofsky calls her bluff and initiates a mass exodus of all the non-glee football players. BORED. SO VERY BORED.
And this goddamned number isn't going to help alleviate that boredom at all, now is it? When we arrive back from the last commercial break, the camera fades up on a brand-spanking-new banner for The Dalton Academy Swallows. And what on earth do The Dalton Academy Swallows have to do with this episode, I hear you ask? Absolutely nothing, that's what, so let's get through this as quickly as possible, shall we? The 30-year-old chorus boys of Dalton Academy make with the do-dee-wopping for a bit until Dreamboat Blaine comes a-sliding into the tastefully appointed Dalton Academy lounge to hurl everyone present into an a cappella version of "Bills, Bills, Bills" from Destiny's Child. And yes, while it's moderately amusing to listen to the stuffy, over-privileged Swallows croon about empowerment in the face of an onslaught of "trifling" "baller" "brothers," as I believe I pointed out before, this has absolutely nothing to do with the episode at large.
And when it's over, Kurt and Blaine retire to The Lima Bean for a little coffee-and-muffin date with Rachel and Mercedes. After an initial round of playful trash-talking from the boys regarding the extent to which Dalton is going to wipe the Regionals stage with New Directions' collective behind, the four settle in for a chat, with the primary topic of conversation of course being yesterday's post-slushie locker room meltdown. As a result of the lengthy conversation that follows -- during which we learn, incidentally, that Finn's spoken not a word of his troubles to Kurt over the last several days, even though Kurt makes it a point to drop by Finn's room with a glass of warm milk every evening for "lady chat" -- the gals learn that Coach Beiste need only field a nine-player team for the championship game because...oh, fuck it. I'll let noted football maven Dreamboat Blaine explain it all to you in his own words: "High school regulations actually let you play a couple guys short if you want to." Upon hearing this, Rachel gets a precious little twinkle in her eye, so wacky hijinks should abound in about three...two...
Crap! First we have to stop off in McKinley's main hall to see that no one's scribbled his name down on the emergency sign-up sheet Coach Beiste affixed to the bulletin board, and then we have to hustle on over to the music room to listen as the Glee Guys bemoan their unfortunate championship-free fate, so the wacky hijinks won't actually abound until about three...two...
Now. After securing an approving nod from Mercedes, Rachel rises from her seat in the peanut gallery to plant herself in front of the piano and announce, "We want to join the team." "'We' who?" Artie eyebrows. "All of us Glee Girls," Mercedes confirms, as she and Single-T Tina rise to join Rachel. "Stop screwing around," Gaylord mopes. "It's not cool." "What's not cool," Lauren speaks up to correct, "is you guys not respecting women enough to realize we're perfectly capable of playing football." "And," she adds with no small amount of sass as she steps down from the risers to stand with the other ladies, "don't forget who the state champ in Greco-Roman wrestling is -- I've got offers from three different professional wrestling organizations for after I graduate, so...." In light of Tuesday evening's events, it would be remiss of me not to note that Puck at this juncture is eyeing Lauren Tuna as if she were a particularly delectable morsel of sweet and sour pork. In any event, Rachel argues that, as Coach Beiste needs only to field nine players, there shouldn't be a problem with the girls not knowing how to play the game -- when the ball's snapped, the ladies will simply lie down on the ground to avoid injury, thereby allowing the four remaining actual football players (plus Artie) to execute the actual plays. No, do not bring up the fact that this means the Titans will in effect have absolutely no defensive line, because you're just going to make your brain bleed. Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue raise some initial objections -- as they goddamn well should -- but these crumble once the Glee Gals present Coach Beiste with permission slips signed by their parents. Idiots. They are all idiots.
And speaking of idiots, the camera lands on dear, sweet Brit-Brit after it's flown over to Sue's office for the scene that follows. "I just don't wanna die," Brittany pouts. "You don't climb in that cannon," Sue promises, "and that routine'll be all boom-boom and no pow, and that, Brittany, is so two thousand and late." That line is funny, you see, because The Black Eyed Peas sucked so much during the sporting event that preceded this evening's presentation. Yeah, you go ahead and argue that Ian Brennan couldn't possibly have known that was going to happen back when he wrote this script, but admit it: Wasn't it at the very least by far the most likely outcome? Anyway, Sue slides an imposing-looking consent form across her desk for Brittany to sign. "As you ponder your decision," Sue states, crossing to perch on the desk at Brittany's side, "I ask that you remember that that cannon has two little baby twin cannons at home, and one more on the way." Brittany's looking guiltier than ever. "And if you refuse to sign this," Sue continues, digging it in deeper, "well, those little baby cannons might just go hungry." "Baby cannons?" Brit-Brit bleats. "Well," Sue explains, "the mama cannon has fibromyalgia, so she can't work." Hee. "Do you want us to win," Sue concludes, "or don't you?" Brittany accepts Sue's proffered pen, and leans forward to inscribe her signature. At the last moment, though, she sits back up and asks, "How many Ms are there in the letter R?" Sue: "Make an X." Commercial.
Game Night. Kurt and Dreamboat Blaine sit in the stands with Burt and Carole, watching as Finn warms up down on the sidelines. Karofsky & Ko. amble over in their civvies, and BORED. SO VERY BORED. Fortunately, the Glee Gals choose this very moment to arrive on the field all suited up for, you know, whatever, so we can keep this moving. Rachel, of course, is wearing number one on her jersey, and in a very nice callback to the person the character's supposed to be, she's also affixed three gold stars to the front of her helmet. "Are you ready for this?" Puck asks, all concerned for her welfare. Rachel takes a moment to remove her mouth guard, then screams, "LET'S KICK SOME ASS!" Enthusiastic Woo!s all around as they huddle up, and the thing we know, the game's started. Rachel deploys some sort of Fosse-esque lunge as her crouch at the line of scrimmage, while Single-T Tina simply squats down like she's a frog. Lauren, on the other hand, is ready for some action, and as she shoves in her mouth guard, she levels her gaze upon her opposing number and promises, "You're. Gonna. Diiiiiiiiiiie!" Finn calls for the snap, and while Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina immediately hit the dirt, Lauren plows forward, knocking out at least one of the other team's guys. Unfortunately, that's not enough to prevent Finn from throwing for an interception, and as the Titans have absolutely no defense, their opponents easily run the ball what looks like eighty yards for a near-immediate touchdown.
Wow. Where the hell did I learn so much about football, for Christ's sake?
The shot cuts to the scoreboard, and in one of this evening's least believable bits of contrivance, when it flashes forward to the end of the second quarter, we discover the opposing team's heading into halftime with a mere seventeen-point lead. We hop back to the Titans' huddle, where Single-T Tina announces that she's tired of lying down all the time, so we already know she's going to do something stupid on the play. They break, and Finn almost instantly gets sacked straight to hell as soon as the ball's snapped, allowing Single-T Tina the opportunity to leap to her feet, snatch up the fumble, and take off for the end zone. Of course, she gets flattened well short of the goal, and even though that guy totally took her out easy, everybody has to pretend like she's going to be paralyzed from the eyebrows down for the rest of her life for a few very long moments until she yanks out her mouth guard and asks -- stupidly -- "Did we win?" And why wouldn't Single-T Tina have a better grasp of the scoring system after two full quarters of play, I hear you cry out? Because she's a girl, silly, and math is hard!
Once that little non-crisis has passed, Rachel tugs off her helmet and bitches that the stupid goddamned halftime show now represents their only shot at "redemption," which gives Finn an idea, so he calls on Lady Lips to take over as quarterback for the remainder of the half and orders Puck to do whatever it takes to get Karofsky & Ko. BORED. SO VERY BORED.
Finn darts off towards the parking lot, where he finds Quinn, Santana, and Brittany still waiting for the bus to Regionals, even though it's the middle of the goddamned night by now, and with a few quick words I'll not be bothering to transcribe, Finn convinces all three of them to ditch the cheerleading squad. As the ladies turn to follow Finn into the stadium, however, Sue arrives to order them onto the bus, pronto, and in a show of unity that temporarily cracks Sue's arrogant façade, each in her turn calmly announces her resignation from the Cheerios, effective immediately
Meanwhile, over in the locker room, Puck confronts his erstwhile teammates with a few quick words I'll not be bothering to transcribe, and all of them agree to perform in that stupid fucking halftime show so Coach Beiste will reinstate them, and then they can win the game. Well, all of them except for Karofsky, who BORED. SO VERY BORED.
And just like that, everyone's in full makeup and costume out on the field, ready to start the show. For some reason, there's a marching band out there with them, even though all audible music during the sequence that follows is synthesized. Whatever. It's time for the much-heralded mash-up of "Thriller" and "Heads Will Roll," and since I already told you I was more entertained by the Chevy ad we saw what seems like eighteen hours ago, I don't think I need to say much more about this. Well, okay, I suppose you should know that Artie's taking the lead vocals on the "Thriller" side of things with Santana primarily responsible for the nearly nonexistent "Heads Will Roll" bits, and because this is a super-special supersized Super Bowl episode that runs for more than 50 minutes even without all of the irrelevant commercials, Frankenteen gets to lurch about in the middle of everything, reciting Vincent Price's lines from the original. Of course, the crowd goes nuts. For everything. Oh, and also of course, Karofsky overcomes his crippling sense of self-loathing long enough to join everyone else on the field, where they embrace him as one of their BORED.
Back from what I pray to God is the final commercial break, the Titans celebrate their halftime victory in the locker room until Coach Beiste arrives to happily inform everyone that all of the previously exiled players are now more than welcome to participate in the final two quarters of the championship game. Generalized Woo!-ing ensues, and only gets louder when Coach Beiste tells them to keep their makeup on. "Maybe we'll freak out the other guys a little bit," she reasons, "and we need all the help we can get."
And because absolutely nothing of interest happens to any of the primary cast during the rest of the game, let's cut to the chase, shall we? The Titans come from behind to win at the very last second, 27 to 24. The end.
"So, tell me, Sue," Katie Couric asks, "how are you holding up?" That's right, ladies and gentlemen -- America's premier telejournalist has joined the cast of Glee for one special evening to ask the question that is now supposedly on everyone's lips: Why is Sue Sylvester such a loser? You see, after the mass defection of her top three performers, Sue's Cheerios flamed out at Regionals, denying her that seventh consecutive national championship and earning her the title of "Loser Of The Year," an honor for which Sue beat out the following: "The economy, Mel Gibson, the housing market, Dina Lohan, Wall Street, Tiger Woods, The Dallas Cowboys, Brett Favre's cell phone, 9% unemployment, and Sparky Lohan, who is Dina Lohan's dog and, apparently, also a loser." "How do you cope with that?" Katie Couric inquires, her tone flooded with all the usual amounts of sincerity we've come to expect from the nation's most trusted nightly anchorwoman. "I've been drinking a lot of bleach," Sue replies. Katie Couric follows up with a question regarding the wisdom of shooting teenagers out of cannons -- personally, I'm all for it -- before wondering how Sue feels now that the remainder of her annual Cheerios budget has been transferred to the glee club. To back up this last, shocking statement of supposed fact, Katie Couric switches on the flat-screen behind her, and we watch as she interviews Will regarding the matter. "I have to say, I'm thrilled," Will admits, adopting a studiously low-key and thoughtful demeanor. "Sue got what was coming to her," he sadly determines, "though now, we don't have to hold a bake sale to pay for the bus to Regionals." And then the studiously low-key and thoughtful demeanor goes flying out the window as he turns to offer the camera a broad, smug smile. Katie Couric returns her attention to Sue and sweetly prompts, "Thoughts?" Sue takes a moment, then rather magnificently seethes, "I hate you, Diane Sawyer!"
Hall. Finn approaches Karofsky and BORED. Long story short, now that the championship has been won, Karofsky's reverted to his self-loathing ways, and he wants absolutely nothing to do with the glee club or any of its members. He stomps off, leaving Finn rather unexpectedly alone with Quinn, who's rather fetchingly attired in a cute little non-uniform dress-and-sweater combo now that she's off the squad. The two banter, and then they kiss, and then it's over! HOORAY!
Everybody already saw the episode, so I guess I've got to tell you what to expect from the one after that, right? Well, too bad, because the one after that involves Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen simpering his way through an actual Justin Bieber song, and I just can't handle that shit. You're on your own.
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Demian certainly wouldn't mind seeing Justin Bieber shot out of a cannon, not to mention all of his fans. You may agree with him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.