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As is this show's wont, tonight's installment blew a metric assload of episode-specific exposition at us within the hour's first 73 seconds, so let me see if I've got all this -- you should pardon the expression -- straight.
Whereas normal high schools have to settle for boring back-to-school shit like Homecoming Court, McKinley apparently treats its children to a Pick The Most Specialest Magical Unicorn contest every fall, and dear little dimwitted Brit-Brit has decided that St. Gay Of Lima is the most specialest magical unicorn of them all. So, she's taken it upon herself to act as his campaign manager and came up with an array of appropriately bedizened candidate posters for her new best friend and hero, but St. Gay Of Lima balks at all the glitter and the rainbows and the Kurt-riding unicorns because he all of a sudden doesn't think people should be defining him by his sexual orientation. Whatever, Mary.
Meanwhile, Carmel High fired Dustin Goolsby from his job as head coach of Vocal Adrenaline because Vocal Adrenaline came in second at Nationals in New York in May, and now nobody wants to take the job at Carmel because of The Pressure, so Mr. Schue decides this means he cannot direct this year's gala musicale production as planned because Vocal Adrenaline now has a big, fat target on its back, so he'd rather focus on winning Nationals and running something called "Booty Camp," which basically amounts to remedial dance lessons for New Directions' differently abled students, and by "differently abled," he of course means Finn and not Artie, because: Duh. Finn suh-huuuucks at the dancing. For whatever reason, Mr. Schue transfers responsibility for this year's gala musicale production to Emma, Coach Beiste, and the aforementioned Artie, so they'll be the ones conducting the auditions.
Also meanwhile, Quinn Fabray and the Skanks have taken to shaking down hapless underclasspersons for their lunch money in the can, so Sue decides to recruit Quinn to star in an anti-arts Sylvester For Congress campaign ad entitled, I believe, "A Day In The Life Of The Girl From Whom the Arts Stole Everything." You know, because of the pink hair and the Seacrest tattoo and the menthols. Quinn agrees, but that's not all! Because also also meanwhile, Al Motta, the fabulously wealthy furniture-mogul father of tone-deaf self-diagnosed Asperger's wench Sugar, flew to New York to recruit Rachel Berry's surrogate mother Idina Menzel to establish a competing McKinley High Glee Club that will feature his obnoxious offspring in all of the leads. So, Idina Menzel moves back to Lima with Quinn's tiny little bastard of a daughter and Drama Ensues.
How does it all shake out? Like this: St. Gay Of Lima decides to butch it up and audition for Tony in this year's gala musicale production of West Side Story, and that little escapade goes about as well as you'd expect it to for someone named "St. Gay Of Lima" who regularly wears clothes like this. Unfortunately, in the process, St. Gay cock-blocks his dreamboat boyfriend, Blaine, from trying for the same role because of The Possible Drama Inherent In Such An Endeavor, so poor Blaine ends the evening all spluttery and forlorn when Artie, Emma, and Beiste insist he read for the lead. Good thing St. Gay Of Lima finally learned How Very Important It Is To Accept Yourself For Who You Are, though, because otherwise, I guess this Big Gay Subplot would have sucked my Big Gay Ass. Alas, we still don't know if everyone else in school thinks he's the most specialest magical unicorn of them all, so I guess we'll have to wait until week for resolution on that one.
Meanwhile, all of the other subplots failed to hang together for more than thirty seconds after they were introduced. Somehow, Rachel and her freshly returned surrogate mother bonded over Bernstein, Quinn decided to turn her life around in order to regain custody of that tiny little bastard of a daughter of hers, Sue's up nine points in the polls over her probable opponent in the general election, and FINN STILL SUCKS WITH THE DANCING.
Featuring a gross easy-listening version of "Somewhere" from West Side Story, performed somewhat inappropriately by Rachel and Idina Menzel (and seriously, between this and their "Poker Face" duet, what the hell is going on with those two?); "I'm The Greatest Star" from Funny Girl, deployed as a wholly inappropriate audition piece by St. Gay Of Lima; "Something's Coming," also from West Side Story, deployed as an entirely appropriate audition piece by Dreamboat Blaine; and this song from Franco Zeffirelli's version of Romeo And Juliet, deployed at an appropriate moment of high Shakespearean drama.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Fade up on the hallowed halls of dear McKinley High, where we find St. Gay Of Lima primping and preening and prettifying himself in his locker mirror. Presently, Brit-Brit sidles up to him and opens with, "I really like your outfit." Kurt's eyes widen, for this compliment is apparently unexpected. Brittany, oblivious to Kurt's subtle reaction, barrels on, telling him, "I think you're, like, fabulous, and I just love everything that you do." St. Gay Of Lima thanks her for her kind thoughts, and then Brit-Brit gets down to business: She wants to run his "campaign for president" because to her, Kurt's "the biggest unicorn" in the school. "I'm sorry?" Kurt blinks, so Brittany explains her reasoning like so: "When a pony does a good deed, he gets a horn, and he becomes a unicorn, and then he poops out cotton candy until he forgets he's magical, and then his horn falls off, and black unicorns? They become zebras." As the plots of several of this show's episodes have hung on logic even more batshit than that, I'll just be nodding my head in agreement and going along with it. Long story short, St. Gay Of Lima "went through hell last year" without once forgetting how "special" he is, so he's a magical unicorn who poops out cotton candy and is therefore deserving of a seat on the student council. Furthermore, because Brittany "slept with a lot of people" and is therefore one of the most popular girls in the school, she's pretty sure she can leverage her social standing amongst their peers to score St. Gay some "mega votes" in the election. St. Gay Of Lima mumble-mouths something I eventually interpret as, "Then why don't you just run?" to which dear little Brit-Brit replies, "I'm not smart enough." And with that, we smear sideways to...
...an apparent geology class, whose teacher for whatever reason is asking of her students, "What's the capital of Ohio?" "O!" Brittany confidently shouts out, and even though Brit-Brit is entirely correct, the geology teacher wrinkles her nose and spits, "What? Do you even know who the president is?" "will.i.am," Brittany quite understandably responds, and as her classmates dissolve into a fit of derisive giggles, we smear back to...
...the present, where St. Gay Of Lima allows that he's flattered to be the focus of Brittany's attentions and admits he's sort of excited about the whole thing. Brittany promises to stop by his house that evening so they can work on his campaign posters, and from there, we have nowhere to go at this point in the episode but the title card.
Cut to the music room, and what follows is an exposition dump of such massive proportions that I'm not even going to try to fashion it into something other than what it is, so here goes: Mr. Schue enters to tell the children that Carmel High fired Dustin Goolsby from his position as coach of Vocal Adrenaline because Vocal Adrenaline placed second at Nationals in New York in May, and Vocal Adrenaline remains leaderless because the school can't find anyone to take on the crushing pressure involved in running so high-profile a program. Because Vocal Adrenaline is now so incredibly vulnerable, Mr. Schue has decided to forego directing this fall's musical at McKinley in favor of focusing all his attentions on winning Nationals this year, and to that end, he's done two things. The first is to establish an after-school "Booty Camp" with the assistance of Gaylord Weiner, the purpose of which is to provide remedial dance lessons for those children most in need of them, and those children include Finn, Puck, St. Gay Of Lima and Mercedes, though if my memory of the group's past performances serves me correctly, little Miss Berry there should be required to attend as well, despite the fact that she supposedly began tap-dancing in Idina Menzel's womb. The second thing Mr. Schue's done is to appoint Emma, Artie and Coach Beiste as co-directors of West Side Story, Emma because "she did such a good job" helping out with last year's Rocky Horror debacle, Artie because he needs a storyline this season and Coach Beiste because she can coerce the football team into playing The Jets, though something tells me those resentful meatheads will be nothing but completely inept, especially during a number like this one. And I think I've covered everything here, so let's move on to the scene, shall we?
Teachers' Lounge. As Will futzes with the coffee maker, a pair of black suede size-7 pumps stalks up behind him, and it's Idina Menzel, last seen adopting wee little Drizzle Fabray at the end of the first-season finale, and just what is Idina Menzel doing in the McKinley High Teachers' Lounge? "I'm a teacher here, now," Idina explains. "Well," she amends, "part-time. You ever hear of this guy named Al Motta?" Smear sideways to...
...The Lair Of The Maharishi, where The Maharishi himself holds a check-like slip of paper in his hands while asking, "Mr. Motta, just so I'm clear: In exchange for this very generous donation, all I have to do is hire Miss Corcoran to start a second show choir at McKinley which features your [nightmare of a] daughter?" "For which I will cover any and all expenses," Al Motta confirms, the nightmare of a daughter in question clinging limpet-like to his side. Al Motta pats one of the nightmare's hands and asserts, "My Sugar's a supernova, Figgy!" A delightfully avaricious smile spreads across The Maharishi's face as he seals the deal, and with that, he bellows this bit of joyous news at his secretary out in the vestibule: "Mr. Motta has just ended our toilet paper shortage with this enormous check! Wipe away!" Idina, who'd been sitting silently at Mr. Motta's side during this flashback, sullenly rolls her eyes, and then we smear back to...
...the present, where Idina wryly explains that Mr. Motta actually sent a head-hunter out to Manhattan to track her down, for she is apparently "the best show-choir director money can buy." Will looks troubled, and Idina smilingly assures him she'll not be poaching any of his kids anytime soon, but he counters that he's actually more worried about what Idina's presence might mean for Rachel, not to mention Puck and Quinn. Idina vaguely mentions her intent to "reach out" to Rachel, then dodges the whole issue by somewhat selfishly stating, "Lima's where I made a series of mistakes that defined me for sixteen years, and Lima's where I have to make things right again." This should work out well for everyone involved. Will decides to take Idina at her word, and they part on decidedly amicable terms after agreeing that more arts programs can only be a good thing for the children of McKinley.
Cut to one of those children getting her face pushed into a toilet by Quinn Fabray and The Skanks. "Give us your lunch money," Quinn demands of the hapless and now-drenched underclassperson once the latter has resurfaced. "We're hungry," Skank Number One states, "and we need something to barf back up." "Don't test me," Skank Number Two menaces when the hapless underclassperson hesitates. "I was a foster kid, which means I'm used to stabbing people." With that, Skank Number Two pokes a spork in the hapless underclassperson's general direction. The hapless underclassperson hands over a wad of drippy bills, wails, "You're so meeeeeeeean!" and flees the ladies' for the relative safety of the hall outside, in the process darting past Sue Sylvester, who ambles in for a private chat with Quinn. As The Skanks obediently file out, Quinn makes to ignite a fresh, soothing Newport 100. "First of all," Sue curtly begins, promptly yanking that fresh, soothing Newport 100 from Quinn's mouth, "smoking kills." "Second," Sue continues, allowing a wonderfully conspiratorial smile to cross her lips, "it really does make you look cooler, doesn't it?" "Sorry, coach," Quinn sasses back, "but you have no power over me anymore, 'cause I've got nothing left to lose!" "Oh, Q," Sue sighs, "I look at you, and I'm stunned -- you've never looked worse! You lost your child, your boyfriend, your rep, and even worse? Your high pony." "You know who I blame?" Sue wonders rhetorically. "The Glee Club." "When you were in my grasp," Sue continues, "you were at the top of the pyramid, but then you joined the Glee Club and became lost, forced to sway in the background. Will Schuester never did appreciate the gentle tremble of your thin, forgettable alto." Hee. Quinn finally thinks to ask if there's a point to all of this, and Sue makes Quinn an offer: Her congressional campaign is producing a video entitled "A Day In The Life Of A Girl From Whom The Arts Stole Everything," and she'd like Quinn to star in it, for what I hope are obvious reasons. Quinn agrees, but only under one condition: She'd like thrift-store couches placed beneath the stadium bleachers, because she's realized that "after smoking all day, it hurts to stand." It's a deal.
Later that evening, Brit-Brit's arrived at St. Gay's boudoir for their previously arranged strategy session. She's sporting a fluffy little hot-pink-and-sky-blue plush unicorn horn on her head, and her posters are whimsical concoctions of sparkle and glitter that dance around oversized close-ups of Kurt's face rendered in devastatingly tasteful shades of blush and bashful, and on top of all that, she proposes distributing to each student a "swag bag" which shall henceforth be known as "Kurt Hummel's Bulging Pink Fun Sack." Each bag will contain, among other things, a pair of ruby slippers, a stuffed Tinky-Winky doll, and a Burlesque DVD. For once in his life, St. Gay Of Lima is speechless. While he appreciates Brit-Brit's enthusiasm, he claims that he doesn't want to be known as "Kurt Hummel, Homo." No comment. To that end, he's come up with a "toned-down" campaign poster of his own, an "understated" and "elegant" thing inspired, of course, by "the classic Blackglama fur coat ads," and I gotta be honest, here: The resemblance is eerie. Brit-Brit approvingly decides St. Gay's efforts are "so unicorn!" and with that, we head back to...
...McKinley, where the camera finds Quinn and Puck moseying through the halls. Puck's got a surprise for her, and that surprise is of course Idina Menzel, and this reunion of theirs is of course uncomfortable in the extreme, and when Idina Menzel insists despite all evidence to the contrary that she "gave Rachel up for adoption," I completely zone out on the remainder of this scene because: SHUT THE FUCK UP, GLEE. From what I can gather, though, Idina would like Puck and Quinn to be a part of wee tiny Drizzle's life, though she insists Quinn clean up her act first. Drama ensues, with Quinn getting all up in Idina's face, all, "Whatevah! I do what I want!" before flouncing on out of there into this evening's first commercial break.
Back from the break, we're treated to a few slo-mo shots of Gaylord Weiner doing his dancing thang with Mr. Schue before the inaugural session of Booty Camp commences with Gaylord leading his less-talented fellows in a rehearsal of that most basic of steps, the grapevine. A few expected lumbering-Frankenteen hijinks ensue, but the central focus of the little scenelet that follows is the sotto-voce conversation between St. Gay Of Lima and his boyfriend, Dreamboat Blaine, the latter of whom decided to attend Booty Camp as a way to ingratiate himself with New Directions' other members. You see, Blaine had intended to try for Tony during the impending West Side Story auditions, and St. Gay gets all monumentally threatened at the prospect of his boyfriend landing the part and too-casually sings, "Oh! Are you auditioning for Tony, too?" and Blaine's all, "What's with this 'too' bullshit, Mary? You can't seriously be thinking you're right for that role -- I mean, for Christ's sake, I'm pretty sure Graziella'd be too butch for you. God knows she could beat me up." Except for the part where Blaine says no such thing and instead immediately caves in the face of St. Gay's almighty pissiness, insisting he'd be just fine playing Bernardo or Officer Krupke or that runty little loser who thinks he's got a shot at Maria at the dance, and St. Gay Of Lima smiles because he won again, and SHUT THE FUCK UP, KURT.
Cut to the auditorium, where Idina enters the stage from the wings to find Rachel warming up with Tinkles over at the grand piano. Awkwardness ensues, and if they expected me to care about this subplot at all, they shouldn't have dropped it so completely a year and a half ago. Rachel gets all babbly and hypersensitive, and Idina gets all maternal and mentoring regarding Rachel's impending West Side Story audition, and eventually, they settle into a duet of Barbra Streisand's hateful easy-listening version of "Somewhere," and it's nice and pleasant and dull, and then the camera goes all spinny and suddenly, Rachel's standing alone on the stage, belting out the final note for the benefit of her auditioners, Emma, Artie and Coach Beiste, who respond with hoots and hollers and an enthusiastic round of applause. Rachel giggles, all pleased with herself, and then we're off to...
...Skankland, where Sue's filming her anti-arts campaign ad, and it pains me to report that the ad itself is nowhere near as funny as it might have been. Well, aside from the bit where Sue's voiceover insists Quinn spends her days "snorting Splenda." In any event, it all just serves as a segue into the scene, where Sue and Quinn -- with Becky darting around behind them on the boom mic, natch -- invade Mr. Schue's office so Quinn might blame him and his evil artistic ways for her sad downward spiral. Mr. Schue, to his eternal credit, rises to the occasion and tears her a new one like so: "You're not a little girl anymore, Quinn -- how long you plan on playing the victim card? You know, since day one, you've done nothing but sabotage the same Glee Club that has been there for you over and over again -- when you got pregnant, when your parents kicked you out? Mercedes even let you live at her house, and I don't recall ever hearing so much as a thank you! So, now you're a train wreck? Well, congratulations, but you stride into my office and tell me that it's my fault? Well then, I've got something to say to you: GROW UP." Quinn's dismayed, Becky's aroused and Sue's disappointed because her camera malfunctioned and she missed the entire thing. The ladies exit, leaving Mr. Schue alone to bask in his own unexpected awesomeness for a moment, and then we're off to...
...Idina Menzel's tastefully appointed apartment. The doorbell rings, and when Idina crosses to answer, she finds Puck loitering around out there on her welcome mat, and if they expected me to care about this subplot at all, they shouldn't have dropped it so completely a year and a half ago, either. Long story short, Puck vows to prove himself a worthy father to Drizzle, Idina's heart melts at his openly expressed sincerity, the two of them should be doing it by November sweeps, and we head into this evening's second commercial break.
Auditorium. Coach Beiste hoists Artie into his Chair Of Judgment behind the auditioners' table, and after Artie thanks her for the assist, he titters to Emma that Coach Beiste "is like [his] own private Jim Henson" before calling out, "!" St. Gay Of Lima prances onto the stage, there to perform, as he puts it, "the seminal -- and in [his] case, semiautobiographical -- classic" "I'm The Greatest Star" from Funny Girl, and I defy you to come up with a worse audition piece for the role of Tony in West Side Story. It's a massive and massively egocentric miscalculation on his part, and he helps his cause not a bit when he chooses to punctuate the big finale by twirling a pair of sai swords, for whatever asinine reason. Nevertheless, Emma, Artie and Coach Beiste respond with hoots and hollers and an enthusiastic round of applause, so Kurt giggles, all pleased with herself, and then we're off to...
...The Novak, where Puck rudely intrudes on some of Quinn's alone time to demand she "lose the Skank act and get it together" lest she never see Drizzle again, and as I don't recall any of these fools giving the teeniest, tiniest fuck about goddamned Baby Drizzle over the course of the last twenty-three episodes, I'm gonna give this scene a great big WHATEVER and scoot forward to eavesdrop on...
...the auditioners' deliberations, which are currently taking place over in Emma's office. Coincidentally enough, St. Gay Of Lima is also eavesdropping on the auditioners' deliberations, and what he overhears is not good. While Coach Beiste admits Kurt "owned that song like it was his prison bitch," she's of the opinion that West Side Story's Tony should look and act like "an Alpha gang member," and she just wasn't getting that sense of the character from St. Gay's audition piece. Emma counters that Tony's "a poet of the urban jungle," and adds that Kurt possesses "a delicate wholesomeness" that in her humble opinion is "unexpected but not unwelcome" in the role. "I mean," she confesses, "if I were Maria, I'd love to be held in Kurt's toothpick arms on my fire escape." Coach Beiste is all, "Yeah, yeah, I like the kid, but I want a Tony that excites my lady parts." The two turn to Artie for his take on the matter, and he's forced to admit that St. Gay Of Lima might be just a wee bit too precious for the part. St. Gay is crushed. CRUSHED, I tell you.
Later, after the commercial break, St. Gay Of Lima trudges through the McKinley halls, all downtrodden and slo-mo, until he realizes with horror that Brit-Brit went ahead and plastered the school with her versions of his campaign poster, despite his earlier objections. He rips one of the things from the wall and scampers over to confront her, screaming, "This is not the poster we agreed on!" "The poster that you wanted gave me crippling depression," Brit-Brit shrugs. "I wanted something toned down!" St. Gay howls. Santana Lopez, who'd been standing by silently up to this point, arches and eyebrow and notes, "This is toned down -- in the original, the unicorn was riding you." Hee. Kurt freaks, latches on to a just-passing Rachel, and babbles, "I need you! I need you to come with me to the auditorium right now and help me audition for Tony again!" Rachel's way stoked, because she's all about the last-minute emergency auditions. And as the two of them disappear into a throng of students milling about, St. Gay positively shrieks over his shoulder, "And stop putting up those posters!"
Brit-Brit has A Sad, and mopes, "I failed my precious unicorn." Santana assures her that the campaign strategy is brilliant, and adds, "If he doesn't get it, then he doesn't deserve to have you as his campaign manager." "There's no one like you," Santana emphasizes before adding, "You're a genius -- you are the unicorn." Awwwww. Brit-Brit smiles, and as Santana strolls off, Brittany loses herself in some approximation of "thought."
Auditorium. Coach Beiste, Artie and Emma are already back in their Chairs Of Judgment, ready to see some "ethnic Marias," and are quite surprised when Kurt and Rachel appear on stage, lugging a mattress whilst clad head to toe in suspiciously professional-looking Elizabethan-esque finery, and this is just painfully stupid. St. Gay, you see, intends to convince The Judgy Triumvirate that he's manly enough to play Tony by performing a scene from West Side Story's Shakespearean forebear, Romeo and Juliet, and to say his performance is an atrocity is to insult every atrocity ever committed by man, beast or nature in the history of the planet. It's so misbegotten and awful and wrong that The Judgy Triumvirate has little choice but to point and laugh, which sends poor precious special misunderstood snowflake St. Gay Of Lima screeching off into the wings, utterly humiliated.
Meanwhile, Idina Menzel's rapidly losing her cool with the talent-free Sugar Motta, who can't get through a simple scale without fucking it all to hell, so it's quite fortunate that Sugar must cut their rehearsal time short so she might catch up on her TiVo'd episodes of My Strange Addiction, and as Sugar breezes on out of there, she blows past the just-appearing Quinn. At first, Idina and Quinn seem to be reaching an understanding of sorts, but then Idina says something -- and I have little to no interest at all in what that something actually is, by the way -- that sets Quinn off again, and she gets all "Whatevah! I do what I want!" for the fifth or sixth time this episode until Idina lectures her like so: "The first step to becoming an adult? Stop punishing yourself for things you did when you were a child." For whatever reason, this gets Quinn all weepy, and she begs to see Drizzle again, but Idina won't allow the two to meet until Quinn -- all together now -- cleans up her act. Idina exits, and Quinn howls and wails and gnashes her teeth and further rends her already-rent clothes straight into the commercial break.
Hummel Tires And Lube. Frankenteen's taken a job at his stepfather's auto-repair shop, and when we join him, he's busily changing a tire on an SUV while Rachel sits off to one side, all pretty and pert and extremely careful not to get motor oil on her patent-leather pumps. The two get to chatting, and after Rachel admits she'll be "an emotional DEFCON One" until the audition results have been posted, she reminds Finn that he still has time to try out, as "the field for Tony is wide open." Unfortunately, between football and his schoolwork, Finn hasn't the time for the musical this year. "And," he reminds her, "I gotta go to this Booty Camp thing -- my dancing has got to get better, or it's gonna cost us Nationals." Then I guess they'll be losing Nationals this year, because Frankenteen will always suck with the dancing. Sigh. So sad. Another thing preventing him from auditioning is the fact that Burt's paying him so well for his work at the shop, and as Finn's currently saving up for college "and stuff," it's just a wee bit important that he not lose any of his shifts at the moment. "I just don't want you to give up on what makes you most special," Rachel begins, and I can already see where this is going, and I do not approve of the destination at all, so for the rest of the conversation, I vow to stick to a straight transcription of this little nitwit's dialogue. "You know," she continues, "you're really talented -- talented enough to get into NYADA if you applied," and that is a lie, and after your happy little escapade last week at The DoubleTree Inn, you know it's a lie, and if Finn wants to stay in Lima after high school and make bank as an auto-repair mechanic then WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO TELL HIM HE CAN'T, and SHUT UP, RACHEL, and there I go breaking my promise to myself. Anyway, Finn muses aloud that working for Burt full-time after graduation might not be such a bad thing after all, and Rachel makes a great effort to choke back the bile that rises in her throat at the very idea to assure Finn that it wouldn't, so long as it made him happy. "But I don't think it would," she hastens to add, placing an urgent hand on his arm. "You're better than that," she claims despite all evidence to the contrary, and after Finn dimwittedly decides she's "the best girlfriend ever" for trashing both his stepfather and his stepfather's entirely respectable and lucrative profession, they lean in for a smooch.
"Quit makin' out in the shop!" Burt good-naturedly teases as he brushes past them to chat with his morose special unicorn of a son, who's spent the entire scene thus far slumped over on a stool in a far, lonely corner of the floor. "What do you want?" Burt immediately demands. "Nothing!" St. Gay Of Lima testily glooms by way of reply before whining, "Is Finn the only son who can help out around here?" Of course not, but as Burt knows St. Gay only volunteers to work when he's got something on his mind, Burt's quite naturally wondering what gives. St. Gay produces a list of "the only musicals [he's] a shoo-in to play the lead role in," and among those musicals are La Cage Aux Folles, Falsettos and "Miss Saigon, as Miss Saigon." Burt, bless him, interrupts the whiner with a beautifully blunt, "Dude, you're gay." "And you're not like Rock Hudson gay," Burt correctly points out, "you're really gay -- you sing like Diana Ross, and you dress like you own a magic chocolate factory." HA! Kurt bemoans the fact that his blatant feyness will only prevent him from landing the parts he really wants to play, but Burt -- bless him again -- sees this pathetic pity-party for what it really is, and swiftly but kindly tells him to knock it off. "If they're not writing movies and plays for performers like you," Burt opines, "then you gotta start writing your own." And as I've sat through far too much crap authored by and starring otherwise uncastable "actors" in the past, I know Burt's suggestion is not necessarily a good thing, but if it gets Kurt to stop acting like such a goddamned fucking martyr all of the time, then I'm all for it. "I'm just tired of being a unicorn," gripes St. Gay Of Lima. "You know what they call a unicorn without a horn?" Burt counters. "A friggin' horse." Kurt cracks a reluctant smile at that, and so Burt wanders off, his work here done. Until St. Gay's self-manufactured crisis.
Booty Camp. Gaylord and Mr. Schue put the pathetically inept Frankenteen through his paces, and Frankenteen trips over his own stupid feet to crash to the auditorium stage, and Frankenteen despairs, and Mr. Schue delivers a pep-talk, and Frankenteen rises to his stupid feet to try it again, and even though FINN STILL SUCKS WITH THE DANCING, everyone applauds when he makes it through the routine without killing himself.
And when it's over, a freshly scrubbed Quinn materializes at the side of the stage. Gone are the nose ring and the pink hair and the tattered clothes and the menthols, and she's back to her wholesome-looking little blonde self. "Can I help you?" Mr. Schue inquires, all oddly stiff and overly formal about it. "I heard this was for people who need a little help with their dance moves," Quinn shyly smiles. "I'm a little rusty," she confesses, "and would it be cool if I joined in?" "Absolutely," Mr. Schue beams. "Welcome back!" Well, that was easy. The other children greet the prodigal's return with open arms, and as she takes her place at Puck's side to begin learning their routine, he gushes, "I'm proud of you." In an instant, the sweet little smile on Quinn's face vanishes, and she gets all crazy-eyed and intense as she hisses, "I have to get her back, and if that takes dyeing my hair blonde and pretending that I think I'm special, that's something I'm willing to do!" "We're going to get full custody!" Quinn psychotically concludes, and Puck, quite naturally scared shitless by the she-beast from Hell that's suddenly taken over his ex-girlfriend's body, gapes all the way into this evening's final commercial break.
Teachers' Lounge. Coach Beiste, Will and Emma chat amongst themselves until sweet, sweet Sue enters to greet them as "She-Hulk," "Weepy The Vest Clown," and "Little Miss Golden Marmoset," respectively. The golden marmoset, Sue delightedly explains, is both a Brazilian monkey and Emma's spitting image. "I'm gonna send you a photo," Sue promises as she takes a seat at their table. "Are you still at FreakishBonyGinger at Gmail?" Yes, I tried sending that address an e-mail. No, I have not received a reply. Yet. Will chooses to ignore Sue's gentle teasing and instead chipperly informs her of Quinn's return to New Directions. "Sorta throws a wrench into your whole campaign commercial," he smugs. "Actually, Butt-Chin," Sue replies, "I couldn't have written it any better myself." "In fact," she continues, "it gives my campaign a whole new narrative: Quinn Fabray is an addict, and she's relapsed back into her Glee Club addiction." "You see," Sue triumphs as Will aggressively rolls his eyes, "the arts are like crack, but much more addictive, and not nearly as glamorous." Her new crack-themed spot starts airing tomorrow, but her modified strategy is already showing results. "I've made hating the arts into a brand," Sue explains. "People are hurting, unemployment is up, the dollar is weak and the arts smack of elitism and self-absorption and indulgence and privilege. When times are tough, that's something that Americans cannot stomach." Just then, her cell buzzes, and it's a text message from the ever-faithful Becky -- a text message "replete with hilarious auto-corrects," by the way -- that brings with it the joyous news of Sue's ever-skyward rise in the polls. She's now up nine points on her Republican challenger, "pizza magnate Reggie 'The Sauce' Salazar," which means she's in first place. It also means she shouldn't be sitting with a bunch of losers like She-Hulk, Weepy The Vest Clown and Little Miss Marmoset, thank you very much, and as Sue rises to leave, Will leans in close to Emma's ear to panic, "What are we gonna do? We cannot let her win!" "Then we gotta find someone with credibility to run against her," Coach Beiste shrugs. Will gets An Idea. This should suck.
Hall. Brittany wanders past in slow-motion, once again lost in some approximation of "thought," when she notices -- much to her pleasure, I should note -- a brand-new unicorn-themed campaign poster extolling St. Gay Of Lima's numerous unicorn-themed virtues. Kurt calls her over to admit he's finally accepted himself for who he really is -- again, for, like, the seventeenth goddamned time in the last two and a half years -- and he invites her back to his place for another strategy session. Unfortunately, Brit-Brit must decline St. Gay's gracious offer, for she and Santana have already scheduled a strategy session of their own. No, a real strategy session, not another lady-loving romp atop Brittany's duet. You see, Brit-Brit's taken Santana's earlier ego-elevating words to heart, and she's decided to run for the student council herself. "'Cause, you know," she explains, "the last six Senior Class presidents have all been guys, and look where that's got us -- you know, teetering on a double-dip recession?" "Besides," she confidently continues, "I'm also a unicorn." "Well," she wavers, "maybe a bicorn." But that doesn't matter, because what does matter is the fact that she's "starting to believe in [her] own magic." She sincerely bids her new rival good luck, and brightly promises to see him at the debate. St. Gay Of Lima is crushed. CRUSHED, I tell you.
Auditorium. Artie summons Dreamboat Blaine to the stage for his audition, and Blaine nervously enters from the wings to offer them his rendition of "Something's Coming" from -- wait for it -- West Side Story. With little ado, the house orchestra kicks in with the opening vamp, and soon enough, Dreamboat Blaine's launching himself into a thoroughly enjoyable performance of the song, and I suppose this is the point where I might as well bring up something neither this episode nor any of the lovely and talented people on the forum boards thought to cover: The original, universally acclaimed Tony was gay. And not even Rock Hudson gay, either. (That's him singing in the link above, by the way. I changed it from version in the recaplet, and if that link disappears, you should still be able to hear a sample here.) So, you know. Fuck you, Glee. Not that I'm giving twee little precious St. Gay Of Lima a pass on this one, mind you, because he'd always, always be miserably miscast in the role of Tony, but still: Fuck you.
Anyway, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: Dreamboat Blaine offers us all a thoroughly enjoyable performance of "Something's Coming," and when it's over, he's left The Judgy Triumvirate weepy and all but speechless. Artie, in fact, would like nothing more than to give Blaine a standing ovation, but one little detail on Blaine's audition form does give him pause. "You said you were only interested in the role of Bernardo," Artie quizzically notes, consulting the form in question. Poor Blaine is instantly flustered, and he awkwardly stammers that Officer Krupke would be fine, too, if that's where they think he'd best fit in. The various members of the Judgy Triumvirate exchange significant glances with each other before Artie delicately inquires, "Would you mind reading for Tony?" Poor Blaine, obviously mindful of the rampant amounts of passive-aggressive bitchery he'd receive from his supposed boyfriend should he give the wrong answer, sighs and chews on his lower lip and looks thoroughly miserable for a very long moment.
Meanwhile, up in the shadows of the balcony from which he'd silently been witness to this entire exchange, St. Gay Of Lima blinks back tears of white-hot rage before vanishing into the episode-ending darkness. Jesus Christ, I'm sick of that fucking little queen.
week: More drama, this involving Mercedes trying for the same role as Rachel, even though she is also horribly, horribly wrong for the part. See you then!
Demian thinks Natalie Wood had a lovely voice in the movie. You may contact him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.