Livin' La Vida Lima

S03E11

Will suffers through a crisis of confidence that kicks off when The Maharishi informs him one of his students anonymously mouthed off about his lousy teaching methods, which offers Glee a convenient excuse to introduce Ricky Martin as "David Martinez," McKinley High's nighttime adult education Spanish teacher, whom Will turns to in a desperate attempt to brush up on his pathetic language skills. It also offers Will a convenient excuse to announce a Latin theme for this week's musical selections, and many a choir-room seat dampens when Ricky Martin and his hair and his teeth and his tattoos and his eyes and his hips and his OMG SQUEEEEEEEEE! swivel on in to show the children how it's done. Eventually, Santana Lopez admits it was she who ratted Mr. Schue out to Figgins in the first place, because while Mr. Schue might be an excellent Glee Club director, he pretty much sucks at just about everything else, including life. As a result of this little confrontation, Mr. Schue admits both to himself and to the children that he became a Spanish teacher because it was the only opening at the school when he originally applied, and he decides to transfer to McKinley's History department, thereby freeing up his old position for Ricky Martin. Though, you know, given the fact that Ricky Martin's scheduled to open on Broadway soon as Che in a much-anticipated revival of Evita, I'm not sure how much we'll be seeing of him. And his fine, fine ass.

In other news, Sue Sylvester's decided to get herself knocked up, Mercedes and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen keep making cow eyes at each other, Rachel and Frankenteen exchange heated words with St. Gay Of Lima regarding their absolutely asinine engagement, and Emma's pamphlets have become quite popular amongst the athletically inclined at various Big Ten universities. Yeah, it all felt pretty pointless.

Featuring "La Cucaracha," as performed by Mr. Schue, Puck, Frankenteen, and Artie; LMFAO's "Sexy And I Know It," as performed by Ricky Martin's Hair; "Dang Diggy Dang" by The Beatards, heard during an especially aerobic Cheerios routine; "Don't Want To Lose You," by Gloria Estefan, as performed by Mercedes; a medley of "Bamboleo" by the Gipsy Kings and Enrique Iglesias's "Hero," as performed by Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and his fellow Glee Guys; Madonna's "La Isla Bonita," as performed by Santana Lopez and Ricky Martin's Hips; and finally, a Spanish-language version of Elvis Presley's "A Little Less Conversation," as performed by Mr. Schue with a bullish dancing assist from Brit-Brit and Gaylord Weiner.

With absolutely no warning at all, Mr. Schue spins around to howl, "¡La cucaracha!" directly into the camera, and with that, we're off. As we learn from his subsequent voiceover, it would seem that Mr. Schue makes a habit of treating his Spanish students to a feisty rendition of "La Cucaracha" once a year on "Taco Tuesday," and this time around, he's enlisted the aid of Puck, Frankenteen, Artie and the ever-mute members of The McKinley Jazz Ensemble to the great and evident horror of every child in the classroom. Foremost amongst those horrified children is, of course, Santana Lopez -- who, I'm guessing, is here simply because Mr. Schue's class is an incredibly easy way to take care of her foreign language requirement -- and as she scowls at them with her barely concealed contempt, Mr. Schue and the boys give it their collective all, but really: Judy did it better. So did Louis Armstrong for that matter, but I'm starting to fall into a YouTube hole with all of these "Cucaracha" links, so I'll knock that crap off to let you know that, to add insult to injury, Mr. Schue and his merry band of makeshift mariachis are all clad in garish sombreros and serapes before giving you Mr. Schue's thoughts on his performance. "I should have known from the looks on my students' faces that I'd really stepped in it," Mr. Schue's voiceover sighs. "I'm ashamed," Mr. Schue's voiceover admits before adding, "To be a teacher is to offer students a gateway to the future, and I blew it. How could I have become so out of touch?" Okay, for one thing, you were always out of touch, you dipwad, and for another, stop being such a goddamn drama queen. That's Kurt's job, for Christ's sake.

In any event, once this opening nonsense is over and done with, the camera leaps over to The Lair Of The Maharishi for some nonsense of the expository sort, and we find Will -- still in his ludicrous Mexican costume, by the by -- already in mid-conference with Principal Figgins himself. Seems an anonymous complaint has been received regarding Will's teaching skills and, as The Maharishi patiently explains, this is an issue because the school's history teacher "has been forced into retirement due to some memory problems." Cue the sideways smear to...

...Mrs. Hagberg's History class, where the addled teacher in question taps her pointer against a Nazified map of the globe as Wagner's "Ride Of The Valkyries" kicks in on the soundtrack. "And that's how Germany won The Second World War!" the eminent Mrs. Hagberg exults. Remember when these cutaways used to be hysterically funny? Yeah, good times.

By Demian

Smear back to the present, where Figgins lets us all know that Mrs. Hagberg's long-awaited retirement from a tenured position means that the tenure track has now opened up for one of her younger colleagues, and no, that's not how tenure works in public schools at all, and no, I have no idea why I'm allowing myself to get bogged down by petty, stupid details such as this so early in this episode, so I'm just gonna speed through the remainder of this scene to yank out the bits of actual importance, such as they are: Long story short, The Maharishi for some reason would love to offer Will tenure, but the lousy evaluations Will's been getting from his students as of late might force Figgins to pass that tenure on to some other teacher. "You've got to turn it around in the class!" The Maharishi emphasizes. "Okay, so how do I do that?" Will blurts back, eager to please. "You're a Spanish teacher," Figgins shrugs. "Maybe you should try learning Spanish." There's an idea. Also: Title card.

The camera snaps open on an adult continuing education session being held in one of McKinley's classrooms, presumably that evening. Will has joined a motley assortment of middle-aged suburban types in the desks, and one of the women present waves her hand around in the air to snag the attention of "Señor Martinez" up at the blackboard. "You can call me David," Señor Martinez affably replies, turning to flash us all a dazzling smile, and it's Ricky Martin, and wow. I never thought it would have been possible, but this show just got about three zillion times gayer than it ever had been before. Also, Ricky Martin's hair has been quiffed up to absolutely ludicrous heights for this evening's presentation, and even though I've never been what you could call a fan of the gentleman, and even though my better instincts are currently screaming at me to resist, I have to admit I'm finding both Ricky Martin and his hair absolutely adorable at the moment. God help me. God help us all.

In any event, there follows a lengthy PSA on the topic of America's Rapidly Changing Demographics, or whatever, after which Ricky Martin instructs his students on the proper way to address their Latino dentists. Soon enough, the class ends, and Will invites Ricky Martin to The Teachers' Lounge After Dark for some coffee and conversation, and no, "coffee and conversation" is not a euphemism for something filthy, so get your sick, pervert minds out of the gutter already. During the lengthy -- and I do mean lengthy -- chit-chat that follows, we learn that Ricky Martin recently abandoned his ragingly successful career as a professional tooth model in favor of pursuing his longtime dream of teaching, but as the ongoing economic crisis has forced all local school districts to slash their budgets to the bone, he's thus far only been able to secure a position in McKinley's GED program. They also talk about Inspiring The Children and something called "duende," but I pretty much stopped paying attention about halfway through. I do know, however, that by the end of it all, Will's stumbled across yet another one of his brilliant ideas. This should suck.

Though it can't possibly suck as much as what happens : "Twice a day," Coach Sylvester opens from her perch on a chair in the music room the following morning, "you boys stain your mothers' drapes, or befoul a gym sock that has to jump from the hamper straight into therapy." As Mr. Schue quietly enters the music room's outer office to eavesdrop, the camera hops around to take in the bewildered expressions now plastered across the faces of Frankenteen, Puck, Artie, St. Gay Of Lima and The Leprechaun, whom Coach Sylvester has assembled for this little lecture-slash-sales pitch, which continues like so: "Why not head on down to the clinic and put your virile teen years to good use?" "You'll have five bucks more than when you walked in," Coach Sylvester points out, "and the gratitude of lonely ovaries everywhere." "But not you," she hastens to add, pointing directly at Artie. "You can keep tossing your tissues into the trash." "I was in an accident," Artie testily reminds her. "Still," Coach Sylvester shrugs dismissively before focusing her attention on St. Gay with, "Same goes for you, Porcelain -- let the strangeness end with you." Needless to say, St. Gay Of Lima is shocked and appalled. So am I, actually, and for what I hope are obvious reasons, so it's quite a relief when Mr. Schue finally interrupts the proceedings to demand, "What's going on?"

Cut to Sue's office, and this is just beyond ridiculous, even for this show. Seems Sue's now determined to propagate her particular variation of the species, and to that end, she'd visited Lima's friendly neighborhood sperm bank that very morning, only to find herself less than impressed by the quality of the gentlemen lined up to make their daily donations. So, she quite naturally decided to recruit a sire from within McKinley High itself, and she even offers Will -- her avowed nemesis, mind you -- a plastic cup so he might provide her with "a few ounces" of his "baby gravy." I'd start ranting about how stupid this all is, I'm sure, but I'm not yet convinced this will develop into an actual ongoing story arc for Sue, so I think I'll forgo the aneurysm this evening while reserving the right to scream about all of this at some later date. Anyway, the point of this scene -- once these two finally reach it, of course -- is that Sue is also up for Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure, and once we finally hear about that, Her Majesty sashays in from the hall to announce that Coach Sylvester's presence has been requested in The Lair Of The Maharishi.

"Complaints?!" Sue shrieks the minute we join her in Figgins's office. "Who's complaining about my teaching style?" Alas, The Maharishi is not at liberty to divulge that information, but he does note that, combined with The Cheerios' poor showing at Nationals last year, these anonymous complaints mean Sue can no longer assume Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure is hers. The Maharishi also takes this opportunity to introduce Sue to "the talented and charming Olympian" NeNe Leakes, and thus begins the much-awaited showdown between Sue Sylvester and Roz Washington. Mz. Roz had stopped by with some "constructive criticism" regarding Sue's "lagging" cheerleading squad, which of course does not sit well with Sweet Sue. "Why should I listen to this woman give me notes about my Cheerios?" Sue glowers. "This school," Mz. Roz replies, rising regally to her full height, "got cheerleaders doing broke-ass moves from the 1950s." "Why don't you just admit that you're past your competitive edge?" Mz. Roz boldly continues, utterly impervious to Sweet Sue's withering glare. "And let this young, bronze medal winner add some ka-ronk to the badonkadonk?" The Maharishi is visibly aroused.

Music Room. Santana photogenically fiddles with a set of maracas until Mr. Schue bursts in to announce the theme for this week's musical selections: "Songs written or performed by someone Latin or of Latin descent, or English songs performed bilingually." "Though I love that we're finally getting a Lima Sound Machine in here," Santana brazenly interrupts, "why now?" Mr. Schue starts in with an explanation related, I'm sure, to that brilliant idea he stumbled across in The Teachers' Lounge After Dark all those many scenes ago, but let's cut to the chase, shall we? Ricky Martin And His Hair bound in from the hallway, and all of the children -- and I do mean all of them -- instantly find themselves smitten, even though Ricky Martin And His Hair almost immediately begin lecturing them on that whole duende thing that none of them are going to ever remember again because they're all too busy staring at Ricky Martin's adorably animated coif, and then Ricky Martin And His Hair launch themselves into a loin-stirring rendition of "Sexy And I Know It" by something called LMFAO. I don't know the original at all, and from what I've watched of the video, I don't particularly want to know the original at all, ever, so I don't have a whole lot to say about this performance, other than that it certainly does look like everyone involved had quite the jolly time filming it. And when it's over, Mr. Schue claps a hand on Ricky Martin's back while offering him a few congratulatory words in badly mangled Spanish before we all head into this evening's first commercial break.

We return from the break to find ourselves in Miss Pillsbury's office, where Mercedes and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen have arrived for counseling regarding their once-again-budding romance, and as I have absolutely zero interest in these children's so-called love lives, I'll skip the schmoopy and pointless blathering that follows to get to the point, such as it is: Because Mercedes can't decide between Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and that mountain of a jock she's been dating all season, Miss Pillsbury convinces Mercedes to avoid speaking with Lady Lips for an entire week. And while I'm sure that advice made sense in Emma's head, I really don't give a shit about this subplot at all, so are we done here? Good.

Gym. Brit-Brit and The Cheerios, under the guidance of Mz. Roz, add some kronk to the badonkadonk in a routine set to "Dang Diggy Dang" by The Beatards, much to Sweet Sue's annoyance. And when it's over, Mz. Roz instructs her temporary charges to "go run and find a swimming hole to dunk those behinds in, 'cause those donky booties need to cool off." She's a joy, isn't she? Meanwhile, Sweet Sue's sneaked up from behind to shoot daggers at the back of Mz. Roz's head with her eyes and, when Mz. Roz finally turns to acknowledge Sue's presence, the verbal catfighting begins. "Now, I ain't no mind-reader, Sue Sylvester," Mz. Roz admits, "and I come from a very superstitious household where such things are not allowed, but I got a feelin' that those Cheerios like my modern dance moves a little bit better than those stale, white-bread routines you been makin' them do!" "The English language lacks the requisite words to express just how much I dislike you," Sweet Sue calmly replies, "and I'm on to you -- yeah, I've seen All About Eve, and I know what you're planning: You're waiting for me to take maternity leave, and then you're gonna swoop in and try to steal my job." "Ohmigod, hold up!" Mz. Roz interrupts, her eyes widening in disbelief. "'Maternity leave'?" she repeats, incredulous. "Are you pulling my leg?" "I am not," Sweet Sue patiently insists before going on to explain, "I am getting pregnant, and then, I am having a baby." "With whose vagina?" Mz. Roz hoots. "You can't have no baby!" Mz. Roz astutely argues. "You are old as a hill!" "You gonna get in those stirrups," Mz. Roz warns, "and you gonna push and push, and a full-grown adult gonna pop out with a briefcase and a job, talkin' on a cell phone!" "And by the way," Roz adds, "I don't need to steal your job, Sue Sylvester, because Principal Figgins is gonna give it to me!" "He wouldn't!" Sue weakly protests. "He would!" Roz counters. She's an Olympian, goddammit, and not only did she win her bronze medal "in Beijing, China," she also had "a threesome with Michael Phelps," so, you know: Her credentials are both obvious and impeccable. "What you need to do," Roz forcefully concludes, "is wake up and smell the menopause -- you are done as a coach, and all the hormones in Thailand can't change the fact that you are done as a woman!" Roz stares the uncharacteristically dumbstruck Sue down for a moment, then offers her the following as one last, brutal parting shot before moving on: "What you need to do is start praying that you give birth to a child that likes to eat sand, 'cause that's all that's comin' out those old, wrinkly boobs!" With that, Roz stalks off, leaving a shattered Sue to mutter a series of half-hearted affirmations to herself.

By Demian

And when it's over, the clueless Mr. Schue inquires as to the nature of the children's unusual footwear. Frankenteen explains that they got the idea to wear "Mexican hipster boots" from Ricky Martin, which allows Santana to stab at Mr. Schue's fragile sense of professional self-esteem like so: "The teeth, the duende, the bizarre Mexican fads -- Señor Martinez is, like, the best Spanish teacher ever!" "I can't wait to see your performance, Mr. Schue," Santana adds with a sweet, sweet smile on her face. "To defend your Spanish-teacher honor?" she prompts. "I'm sure you have something muy amazing planned!" She's such a bitch. And I love her so much for it. Needless to say, Mr. Schue doesn't quite know how to respond to all that, so while he's trying to figure it out, let's head over to the...

...teachers' lounge, where Emma arrives to present Sue with a pamphlet entitled "Please Don't Hog My Fiancé's Nog," which is Emma's subtle way of informing Sue that Will told her all about that sperm-donation nonsense from the top of the hour. And while Sue gets in a couple of good lines during the heartfelt conversation that follows -- among them the fact that she "spend[s] a large portion of every day vibrating with a palpable sense of wild, irrational rage" when she's not trying to stop Will from "his crusade to ruin pop culture by rubbing his wooly behind with The American Songbook" -- I still can't take this Knocked-Up Sue storyline seriously, so let's just say that, while Emma ends up with an understanding of Sue's motivations, she will not allow her intended to act as Sue's donor, okay? Excellent.

Locker Room. St. Gay Of Lima enters to find Frankenteen pumping irozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Ooops. Sorry, they started talking about that asinine proposal and how Finn shouldn't abandon his dreams for the future in favor of an extremely ill-advised marriage and how Finn is really this super-talented star-in-the-making despite all evidence thus far to the contrary, and I just sort of zoned out. Good thing, then, that we're heading into another commercial break, because I think I need a hell of a lot more caffeine to make it through the rest of this hideously boring episode.

Hall. Santana's about to turn away from her locker when Coach Sylvester materializes from points unknown to snarl, "Hold it right there, Sandbags -- you and I need to have a serious chat!" Santana puts on her game face and waits for Coach Sylvester to make her move, which is not long in coming. "Now," Coach Sylvester begins, "I realize when I chose Becky as co-captain for The Cheerios, it might have rubbed you the wrong way." "Wanky!" Santana coos, a slight smirk twisting her lips. Coach Sylvester chooses to ignore that little gem in favor of continuing, "And I've often admired the craven heartlessness of your pointless, vindictive backstabbing -- kinda takes me back to the old salad days -- but you crossed The Maginot Line when you started messing with Sue Sylvester's family!" Santana, who'd graciously accepted that compliment regarding her craven heartlessness with a smile, now frowns and wonders, "What are you talking about -- what 'family?'" Coach Sylvester accuses Santana of being the source of the complaint that has now jeopardized her chance to win Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure -- and just when she was trying to have a baby, too! "A baby?" Santana hoots, echoing Mz. Roz. "With whose vagina?" Coach Sylvester unhinges her lower jaw to devour Santana whole just as the nosy Mr. Schue stops by to wonder what gives. "Coach Sylvester is accusing me of something I didn't do," Santana insists, eliciting this bit of loveliness from Coach Sylvester herself: "Stop with the lies, Sweater Meat, or you will be hawking nude glossies of yourself behind the Dumpster at Hooters by the weekend! I know you did this!" Mr. Schue orders Coach Sylvester to cool it, now, so she insults his manhood by assuring him she's found a much better donor, thank you very much, and with that, she storms off down the hall. "¿Quien es mas macho de Will Schuester?" Mr. Schue ungrammatically bleats, much to Santana's open loathing and disgust, and when we're done with all that, it's time to head on over to...

...Chez Schue later that evening, where we find Will laboriously translating his impending big number from English to Spanish with the help of a dictionary, and I know I said I shouldn't allow myself to get bogged down by petty, stupid details, but on what planet does this guy get a job as a Spanish teacher without knowing the language? I mean, yeah, if they're doing this to make sure we all know how lousy the American public school system has become over the last couple of decades, fine, but wouldn't something like Will's utter lack of qualifications have come up long before the midway point of this show's third -- third -- season? Are they really running out of ideas this quickly?

Wait. Don't answer that. Let me continue to pretend that there must be better things to come with this series. I want to believe that. I have to believe that.

Oh, who am I trying to kid? I don't believe that at all. What the fuck ever.

ANY-way, Emma presently joins Will on the sofa, and get this: You know those hilariously inappropriate pamphlets we've been seeing from time to time over the last two years? The ones with ridiculous titles that are still just believable enough to work within the context of the world they established for these people way back at the beginning of Season One? Titles like "I Can't Stop Touching Myself" and "Help! I'm In Love With My Stepdad!" and "My Mom's Bipolar And She Won't Stop Yelling"? Yeah, turns out we were never meant to believe they were professionally produced. No, seems that Crazy Emma's been writing them herself this entire time, which not only takes all the air out of the one successful running gag they still had going, it also makes me rage in ways that are difficult for my poor, battered brain to grasp at this late hour, so I'll just say this: Fuck you, Glee. FUCK YOU.

GAH! GOD, I hate this show.

In any event, Emma solicits Will's thoughts on her latest set of now simply inappropriate pamphlets, and because he's so preoccupied with Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure, he turns into a complete dick about the whole thing, and Emma stomps off into this evening's commercial break in an understandable huff, because her fiancé sucks almost as much as the show he's on.

We return to dive right in to a full performance of this forgettable Madonna single, as graciously provided by the smoking-hot Santana Lopez with a major assist from Ricky Martin's Hips. And the most amusing part of the entire sequence by far involves watching Puck's obviously stoned reaction to the laser light show now exploding above Santana and Ricky Martin's heads as they shimmy their way around The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion's expansive stage. Hee. In any event, when it's over, Ricky Martin excuses himself to grade some papers, or something, allowing Santana the opportunity to invite Mr. Schue up onto the stage for his impending big number, but before we get to that, it's time for...another commercial break!

By Demian

Okay, I'm pretty sure it passed. ANY-way, Beiste showed the pamphlet to her Cooter -- her words, not mine -- and Beiste's Cooter not only proceeded to order ten thousand copies of the thing for Ohio State, he also got every other team in The Big Ten to order copies, as well. So, you know, Emma's now got a rather lucrative sideline for herself, and Will sucks even more for behaving like such a jackass the other night at their apartment. Or something like that. Oh, and also: This evening's final commercial break!

Now I can't stop thinking about The Leprechaun's goddamned pubic hair. THANKS FOR NOTHING, GLEE.

Adult Education Spanish Class. Ricky Martin hands out a couple of awards to his students -- including a little "Most Improved" trophy to Will -- but that's not important right now because what is important right now is this: Will's decided to transfer to McKinley's History department, which will allow Ricky Martin to take over as the school's daytime Spanish teacher, starting immediately. Just go with it. Please just go with it, because there are only about three and a half minutes left in this episode, and God alone knows what those three and a half minutes are gonna barf out at us. Though, you know, I should probably mention this before I move on: Considering the fact that Ricky Martin's about to open in the Evita revival on Broadway, I'm pretty sure we won't be seeing much more of him after tonight. In other words, there really wasn't much of a point to this evening's primary storyline, was there?

The day, Her Majesty settles in for a mid-morning chat with Coach Sylvester in the latter's tastefully appointed office and, long story short, it was Becky who reported Coach Sylvester to Figgins earlier in the episode, mainly because Becky's worried that Coach Sylvester's been losing her focus as of late. And that's about that -- I mean, Sue of course thanks Becky for her honesty, and Sue of course vows once again to triumph in all areas of her life at any and all cost, but yeah. Whatever.

Music Room. Mercedes wistfully picks out the opening notes of "Summer Nights" on Tinkles's baby grand, and as a quiet instrumental picks up from where she leaves off to plink softly away on the soundtrack beneath what follows, the time arrives for Mercedes and Lady Lips to break their mutual Vow Of Silence. Mercedes bounds out into the hallway to find Lady Lips already waiting for her, and in an admittedly cute little bit of business, neither of them is actually able to say a word to the other, thanks to the unexpected arrival of Mercedes's mountain of a boyfriend. The boyfriend -- whose name I will probably never succeed in remembering because I've a feeling he's not long for this show at all -- leads Mercedes away to lunch, and as she surreptitiously glances over her shoulder at Lady Lips's slowly diminishing form, we head on over to...

By Demian

And we're back, and Mr. Schue is dressed up like a matador, and he's backed by an actual, honest-to-God mariachi band, and he proceeds to perform a mangled bilingual version of Elvis Presley's "A Little Less Conversation," and it bloooooooows. Not even the delightful dance stylings of Brit-Brit and Gaylord Weiner -- who arrive midway through to prance around the stage as the toreador's bulls -- can save this one, but the good news? Once it's over, we can finally start wrapping up this evening's various subplots. Thank God.

Naturally, most of the children present explode into paroxysms of joy and applause the instant the music ends, but Santana remains silent, the supremely pissy expression on her face closely matching the one on my own. Mr. Schue takes one look at her and, because the script says he must, he instantly realizes that she was the one who complained to Figgins about his crappy classroom skills. "That's not fair!" Mr. Schue protests. "Isn't it?" Santana ices back before rising to descend to the lip of the stage, where she pointedly wonders, "What did you want to be when you grew up -- I mean, why did you become a Spanish teacher?" A very long silence follows, after which Mr. Schue embarrassedly admits, "Because it was the only teaching position open at the time." Which...is not how these things work, but fuck it, because this episode's almost over, and screaming about that particular bit of idiocy just so isn't worth my time right now. Santana absorbs Mr. Schue's answer, then announces, "I want to remind you of something that an amazing teacher once taught me: 'Without passion, you can't succeed.'" The amazing teacher who imparted those sage words of wisdom? Why, Mr. Schue, of course -- and he still does, Santana allows, but only when he's teaching music. Will, finally defeated, sighs. Yawn.

By Demian

Later, Will arrives in the teachers' lounge to find Coach Beiste enthusing over one of Emma's no longer amusing pamphlets -- this entitled "Taint Misbehavin'" -- that's "all about the importance of thoroughly washing your jockstrap." We're treated to a sideways smear I'll not be detailing, thank you very much, mainly because it includes a segment wherein The Leprechaun discusses his pubic hair, after which...

I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me for a moment. "The Leprechaun discusses his pubic hair." Shudder. EW! Hork.

Okay, I think it...no, wait: Full-body shudder.

Now I can't stop thinking about The Leprechaun's goddamned pubic hair. THANKS FOR NOTHING, GLEE.

By Demian

...Chez Schue, for what I pray to God is this evening's final denouement. And it is! Praise Jesus. Long story short, Emma arrives home to discover that Will's prepared a nice little candlelight dinner for her by way of apology for being such a dick about her now unfunny pamphlets, and we learn that The Maharishi has decided to bestow Mrs. Hagberg's magically transferable tenure upon McKinley's batshit insane guidance counselor. And with that, this ultimately purposeless episode finally draws to a close.

week, a Valentine's-themed installment that promises to be thoroughly gruesome in each and every possible way. Have fun!

Demian is still thinking about The Leprechaun's goddamned pubic hair, because this show hates him, and wants him to die. You may reach him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.