The Darkness Persists

S04E20

In Ohio: A school-wide blackout inspires Mr. Schue to have the children go all Unplugged as this week's pre-Regionals assignment, and New Finn ends up confessing a deep, dark secret to everyone that prompts Pretty Kitty to confess a strikingly similar deep, dark secret to him alone in return. However, just when it seems like the two kiddies might be drawing closer together, romantically speaking, over their shared past misfortunes, New Finn veers away from her to continue his pursuit of that Mysterious Internet Correspondent Who Is Probably Still Not-So-Unique.

In New York: Sarah Jessica Parker returns to host a Vogue-sponsored spring gala for The New York City Ballet, recruiting St. Gay Of Lima, The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway, and the somewhat directionless Santana Lopez as her assistants, because of course she does. Naturally, and almost in spite of herself, Santana falls under Sarah Jessica Parker's fabulously-attired spell, much as St. Gay and Old Idiot Rachel themselves did in the past, and after a few heartfelt exchanges just prior to the party, Santana emerges from the experience with a newfound sense of purpose. Or something like that.

Meanwhile: Coach Sylvester is now quite happily working as an aerobics instructor, thank you very much, and neither the gentle cajoling of Dreamboat Blaine nor the desperate pleas of Becky Jackson will draw her back to The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High ever again. Well, until Jane Lynch is done with her stint on Broadway, at least.

Featuring "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' (Plus A Couple Of Gs, Apparently)" by The Righteous Brothers, as performed by Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and his gee-tar; a fairly exacting recreation of this piece of softcore Swedish exercise porn, with vocals by Steve Winwood; that little-known R.E.M. classic "Everybody's Molested," as performed by New Finn; a Stomp-flavored version of Queen's "We Will Rock You," as sung by (most of) The Glee Guys, with backup provided by (most of) The Glee Gals; "Little Girls" from Annie, as performed by Coach Sylvester; "At The Ballet" from A Chorus Line, as performed by Santana Lopez and Sarah Jessica Parker, with a little support from Old Idiot Rachel and St. Gay Of Lima; and Billy Joel's "The Longest Time," as performed by the kiddies of The New New Directions.

Music Room. New Puck, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen enter to find Artie, Not-So-Unique, Pretty Kitty and New Finn busily tapping away on their phones. New Finn, of course, is sending suspiciously well-spelled messages to His Mysterious Internet Correspondent, complaining about the fact that His Mysterious Internet Correspondent has stood him up twice already. "Why are you afraid to meet me?" New Finn texts. "IDK," replies His Mysterious Internet Correspondent. Unfortunately, I don't speak stupid, so I have no idea what that response actually means, but judging by the way New Finn's now sucking on his teeth, I'm guessing it's not good. [Note: "IDK" (ironically) means "I don't know." -- Rachel.] New Finn finally lifts his eyes from his screen to note that Pretty Kitty's also pecking away at her keyboard, and he immediately demands to know who she's chatting with. "I'm playing 4 Pics 1 Word, weirdo stalker," she sneers back, adding, "Do I need to get a restraining order?"

If she does, she won't be able to do so for several more minutes, as Mr. Schue's just now arrived from points elsewhere to shout, "Guys, we got a problem! Her name is Frida Romero!"

Smear sideways to some malnourished teenager wailing "The Star-Spangled Banner" in an anonymous rehearsal studio. "With Regionals only a few weeks away," Mr. Schue's Voiceover narrates, "I went to scout out the competition." Sure enough, Actual Mr. Schue skulks into view in the hallway adjacent, and he stands there with mouth agape as the anemic tween commits vile and repulsive acts of entirely unwarranted villainy against our national anthem until it's time to...

...smear back to the present. "The Hoosier Daddies have a secret weapon," he glumly informs the kiddies, and I'm sorry, but does this mean this poodle-headed dipshit just drove six hours round-trip to sneak into a public high school so he could watch that dangerously underfed toddler scream for all of fifteen seconds? Does North Central not have a YouTube presence at all? GOD, Will's an idiot.

ANY-way, Mr. Schue claims The Screamer's voice "could fill an arena," and adds that the only way the kiddies of The New New Directions could ever hope to beat their primary competition is by going "huge." He's talking "epic songs that will blow the heads off a hundred thousand people at a time," and just as I get ready to question his choice of words, there, given the late unpleasantness at McKinley High, the lights go out. D'OH!

Almost immediately, The Maharishi's dulcet tones flood the various darkened classrooms via the school's public address system, and here's what he has to say about the current crisis: "Children, this power outage is not an emergency, nor is it an excuse to go wilding through the hallways. While we are investigating the root of this near-calamity, classes will continue, and your brains are to remain in the 'On' position. If the darkness persists, candles and flashlights will be distributed based on grade point average. I now have to turn off the PA system so I can save our precious generator resources for the coffee machine and my plug-in lower back vibrator." The funny part is that he had that little speech pre-written on a series of index cards, just in case this precise situation should present itself. You can never claim The Maharishi's unprepared.

Back in the choir room, Mr. Schue smacks a weary palm against his put-upon forehead while noting, "Well, that puts a damper on our stadium songs." Not to worry, though, for he's just now managed to dredge up a new, "appropriate" lesson for the kiddies. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "it's Unplugged Week!" Smash to the title card.

Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High. New Puck and New Finn wander through the generalized gloom, chit-chatting about New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent, with New Puck urging New Finn to forget about this whole frustratingly dragged-out subplot already. New Finn protests that he's never felt so close to anyone in his life, and he adds that he told His Mysterious Internet Correspondent things he's never told anyone else, including his deepest, darkest secret. New Puck, of course, was under the impression that New Finn's deepest, darkest secret involved his dyslexia. New Finn sighs and rolls his eyes around, clearly indicating there's something even deeper and darker than that, but when New Puck presses him on the issue, New Finn clams up. "Fine!" New Puck exasperates. "Keep it all locked away for a few more years, but it's not going away -- maybe you should think about starting to share your deep, dark secrets with people you actually know." Oooh! Burn! Not that I really care at all, of course, but still. Also, I'll not be speculating regarding the true source of New Finn's not-at-all-evident shame and pain because in addition to not really caring about it, I've a feeling we're about to veer into Very Special Episode territory with his eventual heartfelt and teary-eyed confession, and everyone knows we've had too goddamn many Very Special Episodes this season already. Anyone remember when this show was actually funny?

The Improbably Bohemian Loft. Santana Lopez arrives with a beat-up alley chair she decided to rescue, as she's certain the visibly rotting thing will make a fine addition to the apartment after "a little TLC" and "three clicks from [St. Gay Of Lima's] ruby slippers," but that's not the point of this scene at all. No, the actual point is the conversation St. Gay and The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway would like to have with Santana regarding the choices she's been making as of late. "We think you're throwing your life away," Old Idiot Rachel presumptuously opines. "It's bad enough you let those horny tourists grope you for tips at that awful Coyote Ugly bar," St. Gay agrees, "but Tina just informed me that you are now a bouncer at a lesbian beer garden?" "And," Old Idiot Rachel shrieks, "you're a go-go girl! A go-go girl!"

Smear to Single-T Tina taking vast amounts of malicious delight informing St. Gay and Old Idiot Rachel of the above via cell like so: "Oh, yeah: A girl-bar go-go girl!" Cute, but I think they could have done a bit more with it.

Meanwhile, back in the present, Santana Lopez delineates the fine distinctions between Barbarella-style cage dancers such as her magnificent self and your more tawdry run-of-the-mill girl-bar go-go girls before noting, "I'm sorry, but some of us actually have to work for a living." The conversation should end there, and St. Gay and The Horrible Hooker should take their obnoxiously pampered asses elsewhere for the remainder of the episode, but neither of them can let it go because St. Gay and The Horrible Hooker suck.

Old Idiot Rachel claims Santana's the most talented person she knows -- with the obvious exceptions of herself and St. Gay, natch -- and she feels it therefore behooves her to insist that Santana "stop and focus on [that] talent." "Maybe I don't want to be in Funny Girl," Santana retorts, "or be a singing waiter at The Fire Island Pancake Shack, so why don't you just stop trying to force all of your creaky, old-time Broadway dreams onto my amazingly awesome dreams?" She kind of ran out of steam at the end, there, but her point's been made. Of course, Old Idiot Rachel challenges Santana to define those amazingly awesome dreams, and of course, Santana's incapable of doing so, but she valiantly refuses to let either of them define those dreams for her. "What is so wrong with taking a little time to figure things out?" she quite rightly demands. St. Gay and The Horrible Hooker concede there's nothing wrong with that at all, but why can't Santana do something in the meantime, like, oh, say... take dance lessons through Fake Drama School In New York's adult education extension program? You know, "something to keep [her] motors revved," as St. Gay puts it. "My motor is revved every night that I cage dance," Santana icily replies, "and while I appreciate your pity, I don't really think I need to be taking any advice from TV's Blossom and Lady Elaine Fairchild." Hee! With that, Santana strides from the loft, leaving her truly awful roommates in stunned silence.

McKinley High Music Room. Mr. Schue passes out a few battery-operated camping lanterns to lessen the gloom, then calls Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen to the floor so the latter might perform his stripped-down acoustic version of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" by The Righteous Brothers. Midway through the song, New Finn "spontaneously" joins in on the harmony, followed eventually by the other children present as backup, and it's all very nice, I'm sure, but I've hated this song since 1986, so all of these goddamned kiddies can start with the shutting up anytime they feel like it.

And when it's over, Mr. Schue congratulates Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen on a job supposedly well done, then summons Artie to the floor so he might regale us all with his selection of the week. Unfortunately, Artie finds he can't live in a world without power, and suffers a mini-meltdown right there at the piano in front of everyone until Lady Lips steps forward to chide his fellow students for being such plugged-in pussies all the time. As you'll no doubt recall, Lady Lips comes from an economically distressed background, so he and his siblings have had to make do without electricity on any number of occasions, so he has little sympathy for his fellow Glee Clubbers in general, and Artie in particular. The other kiddies look suitably chastened, with the notable exception of Single-T Tina, who looks as bored with all this tight-assed self-righteous bullshit as I am. Atta girl.

Mode. Or Vogue.com. Whatever. Sarah Jessica Parker and her terrifying, kohl-caked eyelids take care of a bit of high-level business over the phone, just so we know what a terribly busy and well-connected person she is, before turning her attentions upon St. Gay Of Lima, the latter of whom is still interning for her, even though he's also carrying a full course load at Fake Drama School In New York because he's just that goddamned super-special. Yawn. We're also treated to a brief update on Congressman Hummel's condition -- "he's back at work, and his treatments seem to be working" -- before the two finally get down to the business at hand, which is this: Sarah Jessica Parker is co-chairing the spring gala for The New York City Ballet's educational programs, and her "celebrity wrangler" just cancelled on her. Could St. Gay dive in, ASAP, and help her out? But of course! Could St. Gay also recruit a couple of his friends to assist him? Like you had to ask! St. Gay virtually vibrates with excitement as we head into this evening's first commercial break. It's definitely not a good look on him, but I'm glad he's happy for a change. Let's hope the gala doesn't deteriorate into yet another opportunity for the world at large to shit all over him. Again.

Sue Sylvester's Brand-New Office. It's actually just a fruit-bedecked corner in the reception area of a health center called "23 Hour Fitness," but she seems quite chuffed about it, indeed, so why quibble? When we join her, Sue's taking a few moments to pen an entry in her trusty diary just before her class, so let's listen in: "Dear Journal," Sue begins, "I speak to you now not as Sue Sylvester, world-class coach and educatrix, but as Sue Sylvester, freelance champion!" "I've purged myself of the toxic teen-town trauma-parade that is McKinley High," Sue's Voiceover continues, as Actual Sue whips up a refreshing protein-powder shake, "and life. Could not. Be better!" "I'm makin' my own hours," Sue's Voiceover enthuses, "rockin' a fresh look, and gettin' paid twice the money to do what I do best: Dish out top-tier abuse to trophy wives and self-hating single gals as a personal trainer." "I've arrived!" Sue's Voiceover triumphs, and while it's excellent to learn she's landed on her feet, we all know she's gonna end up back at the high school, right? Probably by the end of the season, too, yes? So, you know, don't get too used to Sue Sylvester's new digs.

Personal Trainer Sue powers her way into an exercise room that looks a hell of a lot like a dance studio -- go figure -- where she proceeds to shout a gaggle of hardbodied extras through a fairly exacting recreation of this piece of softcore Swedish exercise porn with one notable deviation from that particular video: Sue's class features two scantily-clad gentlemen, rather than one, and one of those scantily-clad gents is Dreamboat Blaine. It's completely gratuitous, and I should be thoroughly ashamed of myself, but still. Woof.

And when it's over -- and far too quickly, if you ask me -- Sue dismisses most of her charges while quite conveniently blocking Dreamboat Blaine's exit. "Fact!" she shouts out, jabbing a finger in his general direction. "If I hadn't mistaken you for a butch Israeli girl, I would have never let you in here." Dreamboat Blaine absorbs that statement with nary a hint of surprise on his glistening face, and listens patiently as Sue continues, "And B! The fact that you survived my Boot Camp 101 -- also known as Sue90X, trademark pending -- I will allow you to speak. Just don't sing." Dreamboat Blaine immediately admits that he rejoined The Cheerios "with the sole plan of destroying [Sue] from the inside," but now that she's gone, Blaine can see that the cheerleading ladies of McKinley High are "lost" without her. "And frankly," he adds, "as student council president, I'm a little worried about the kind advice Coach Roz is giving."

Smear sideways to the McKinley High locker room, where Black Sue's telling the cheerleading ladies of McKinley High to lose a couple of "those fatty ribs," pronto, through the miracle of modern plastic surgery. Again: Cute, but I've a feeling they could have done a bit more with it.

Back in the present, White Sue muses, "I've always thought Becky could look like a young Dolly Parton with a couple less ribs." Dreamboat Blaine gets her back on point by insisting that he knows something strange happened during The Incident, and after he notes that the kiddies still don't feel safe, he urges her to set the record straight. Sue looks like she's actually considering it, which is asinine given both her devotion to Becky Jackson and her newfound wealth and status at that little fitness emporium of hers, but they've got to get her back to McKinley somehow, right? Whatever.

And speaking of McKinley, we shoot back over there so Artie can invent Stomp. No, seriously. No. Seriously. Artie sees some random empty product-placed SmartWater bottle getting kicked around the hall, and he invents the entire Stomp concept right there on the spot. Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen is too polite to tell him that Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas got there first, twenty-two goddamned years ago. Or maybe Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen is just too stupid to know any better. Your choice.

My Ancestral Homeland. St. Gay Of Lima arrives home with his fabulous news about the gala, and while The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway practically piddles herself with joy, Santana Lopez remains supremely unimpressed with the whole thing until St. Gay tempts her with the prospect of "a designer dress from the legendary Vogue.com vault" that she'll get to keep, forever and ever, all to herself. There are also a couple of entirely unnecessary flashbacks to St. Gay and The Horrible Hooker as wee bitty children taking their first ballet classes at "a tiny, moldy Lima storefront" studio that went by the truly horrible name of "Juz' Danzin," but they're hardly worth anyone's time.

McKinley High Music Room. New Finn -- perched on a stool in the middle of about a thousand lit candles, like, nice fire hazard, dimwit -- tells his fellow kiddies that he really wants to "reveal" himself through the song he's about to perform and, after dedicating his performance to The New New Directions, he launches into his version of R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts." And I believe I'm supposed to find this entire sequence very touching, indeed, especially when the camera cuts away from the music room to lead us all through a slow-motion montage of various characters getting whacked in the face with cherry-flavored Slushies, but I just laugh and laugh and laugh some more because come on: You know they all deserved it.

And when it's over, New Finn screws up his courage and admits to the room in general that one of his female babysitters molested him when he was eleven -- just like Spider-Man's little friend Tony here thirty years ago, by the way -- and I'm sorry, Glee, but I shot way past my personal tolerance limits as far these bullshit Very Special Episode subplots were concerned over a year ago, so you can fuck right off with this crap tonight. And when New Finn is done -- and after both Artie and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen have made complete jackasses out of themselves for reasons I can't even begin to deal with lest I collapse into a rage blackout brought on by all of the stupidity on display during this scene -- Pretty Kitty thinks real hard for a second or two before vanishing into this evening's commercial break.

BreadstiX. Pretty Kitty's invited New Finn out to dinner, and during the conversation that follows, we learn she broke up with Old Puck a while ago. Well, if we're being totally honest about the situation, Old Puck actually dumped her "when he went off to live at a college he doesn't go to." It sounds even dumber when she says it. "From a distance," she notes, "[Old] Puck is super-hot, but you don't really realize until you're up close how puffy he is." Hee. Oh, and also? Pretty Kitty was molested, too, by the older brother of one of her friends back when she was in sixth grade. See above for my reaction to this shocking revelation, though I will say this: Becca Tobin does an excellent job with the lengthy monologue they've given her to deliver in this scene. Not that I'm about to watch it again anytime soon or anything, but still. Good for her. It's a shame they wasted so much time this season trying to make Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel happen at the expense of other, more interesting characters like Pretty Kitty, here, because Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel -- despite Melissa Benoist's best efforts, God love her -- is dull as hell.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah: So, both Pretty Kitty and New Finn were molested, so I guess that means they're gonna start dating by the end of the episode because of course they are. Were you seriously expecting anything different from this horrific show at this point?

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Artie leads the other Glee Guys in a Stomp-inflected version of Queen's "We Will Rock You," with The Glee Gals offering appropriate support on various buckets and brooms and trashcan lids and whatnot, and between the generalized gloom on the blacked-out stage and the hyperactive, spasmodic jump cuts the camera's pulling throughout the performance, I can't really tell you if it's any good or not. The one standout moment, though -- mainly because the goddamned camera holds still long enough for me to see it -- comes when New Puck busts out a few deft and agile tap steps in the middle of the all the thump-thump-THUMP of the rest of the routine, and why have they not figured out a way to showcase Jacob Artist's obvious dance skills this year? Sigh. Yet another missed opportunity in a season that's been full of them. Good thing they've got two more years to sideline that particular talent of his, right? This stupid show.

Meanwhile, outside on the bleachers, Black Sue leads a subset of The Cheerios through a drill while White Sue watches from what I'm guessing is her idea of a discreet distance. Even though, you know, they can all obviously see her, pensively gnawing on her thumb and such just a hundred feet away. Whatever. Becky Jackson presently approaches for a chat, and when Coach Sylvester chides her for being out of uniform, Becky admits she's been thinking of quitting the team. "I can't stand how Coach Roz treats me," Becky explains.

Smear to Becky desperately clutching at the apparently unsuitable beverage she's prepared for her new fearless leader while Black Sue gets all up in her face to shout, "Maybe the fact that you grew from an itty-bitty fetus into a full-size adult in less than a calendar year has made you cocky, Robin Sylvester, but around here, we like our protein shakes to taste like human food, and not some crazy peanut-butter stem-cell sauce you cooked up on your Island Of Doctor Moreau!"

"I have always admired her run-on sentences," Coach Sylvester confesses back in the present. Becky ignores that in favor of pleading with Coach Sylvester to return to McKinley. "I know you did this to protect me," Becky nearly sobs, adding, "I'm sorry -- I miss you so bad, it hurts!" Coach Sylvester assures her the feeling is mutual, but then goes on to argue that getting fired is the best thing that's ever happened to her. "As a trainer," she explains, "people take me seriously." "Ninety-five years I gave those girls," she continues, pivoting a bit in her seat to stare at her former squad, "and what did it get me? Certainly not their respect -- just a sad, lazy grab-bag of quitters, backstabbers, flip-floppers, lipstick lesbians, and ungrateful, sloppy, knocked-up sluts." "And me," Becky reminds her. Awwwwwwwwwww. "And you," Coach Sylvester gently agrees, taking a beat to share A Moment with her former protégé before apologizing, "I'm sorry, honey, but I've moved on, and I can't go back to babysitting brats."

Cue the fantasy musical sequence. Or, rather: Cue the half-assed fantasy musical sequence. Coach Sylvester rises from her place beside Becky on the bleachers to tear into a grievously abbreviated version of "Little Girls" from Annie, and while there are plenty of good ideas for a revenge-fueled Coach Sylvester rampage through The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High embedded in the sequence that follows, they don't come anywhere close to going as far with those ideas as they should. What we end up with instead is a wan, wimpy performance that involves Fantasy Coach Sylvester ineffectually flicking and batting at a couple of Cheerios on the bleachers before shimmying her magical way into The Novak, where she... locks herself in a stall until the prohibition of little girls? It's a great premise that ends up so poorly executed that I can't help feeling deeply depressed about it all. Except for the part where I don't really feel deeply depressed about it in the least because it's just a goddamned TV show, for Christ's sake, but still: Jane Lynch deserves better than this, don't you think?

In any event, once it's over, Coach Sylvester snaps out of her brief reverie at Becky Jackson's side, and she claims, "You couldn't pay me to go back to that, and I don't miss them at all." Becky rather awkwardly takes her leave at this point, leaving Sue to drift aimlessly into this evening's commercial break all by her lonesome.

New York City Ballet Gala. Last-minute preparations are underway in a gilt-heavy performance venue that is most certainly not The New York State Theater at Lincoln Center as St. Gay Of Lima floats down the aisle with his trio of high-couture hags, with Sarah Jessica Parker carefully attired in this darling Dior, while Santana Lopez and Old Idiot Rachel have to make do with a couple of castoff rags from Badgley Mischka and Reem Acra, respectively. Sarah Jessica Parker barks out a few final instructions -- St. Gay is "on Rex Reed duty," with strict orders to "keep him away from the open bar," while Santana Lopez gets to shadow Cherry Jones for the evening -- and as they all reach the stage, Old Idiot Rachel rather nervously wonders if she and St. Gay might be able to watch the performance from the audience, like regular people. "Absolutely not!" Sarah Jessica Parker scowls. Rachel makes with the fluttery apologies until Sarah Jessica Parker lets loose with a broad smile and twinkles, "You're gonna be watching from the wings with me!" Psych! Rachel promptly plotzes while Sarah Jessica Parker invites Santana backstage as well. "She doesn't like ballet," St. Gay rudely answers for her, adding, "She's only here for the gown and the swag bag." Sarah Jessica Parker refuses to believe that -- likely because she has eyes, and could therefore see Santana's excited reaction to the invitation -- and then she lets loose with this steaming pile of horseshit: "Every little girl, no matter where she ends up, starts out wanting to be a ballerina." Why don't you take your antiquated gender norms and blow them out your scrawny ass, Sarah Jessica Parker?

Unfortunately, Santana Lopez proceeds to admit that Sarah Jessica Parker is absolutely correct, so I guess I should shut up for the rest of the evening. Or not, as the case may be, but still: WHATEVER. Santana confesses that she, too, once took classes at that tiny, moldy Lima storefront studio referenced via flashback earlier in the episode, and adds that those lessons helped her "escape a little." "I felt safe there," she confides. "Part of something...beautiful." Oy, with this schmaltzy dialogue, already.

Fortunately, it leads into what is probably one of the best musical numbers of the season: A fully orchestrated, mostly uncut, and wonderfully still version of "At The Ballet" from A Chorus Line. Santana's confession melts into a few brief glimpses of dancers spinning around on the stage until the camera focuses in on her face as she takes up the first third of the song, with St. Gay, Old Idiot Rachel and Sarah Jessica Parker lined up on either side of her, each with his or her own spotlight illuminating little more than their heads and shoulders. With Rachel and Kurt's backstories so clearly defined by this point in the series' run, Sarah Jessica Parker has little choice but to claim the remaining bits of the number for herself, and while Naya Rivera definitely holds her own, acting-wise, on her character's parts, tonight's extra-special guest star absolutely nails it on hers. I know people dump on Sarah Jessica Parker because Sex And The City ultimately became so hateful -- and because she insists upon making crap like this, and this, and most especially this -- but the lady can bring it when she's given the right material. In fact, I'm enjoying this performance so much that I'm going to completely ignore those unfortunate segments wherein we flash back to the overeager kiddies arriving for class at Juz' Danzin, and I'll just pretend the camera never leaves the main four up there on the stage because little kids on TV suck.

Oh, and bonus points to anyone who can tell me which ballets are meant to be represented by the four pairs of dancers who weave in and out of this sequence in the background. Swan Lake is definitely among them, but I'm coming up blank on the other three. Not that the ballets in question have any relevance whatsoever to any of these characters, of course, but it'd be nice to know.

And when it's over, Santana begs forgiveness for spilling her guts all over the heretofore immaculate stage in so selfish a manner. Or something like that. She loves to dance, you see, but she hasn't a clue what she really wants to do with her life. Which I believe they already established at the beginning of this episode, but who can remember that far back, for Christ's sake? Sarah Jessica Parker assures Santana she has all the time in the world to figure things out, and adds that "baby steps are okay." For a brief moment, Santana beams, and then she gets smacked straight into this evening's commercial break.

Lair Of The Maharishi. Black Sue all but drags Becky Jackson in by her ear, screaming, "Sue's adult baby is being a belligerent pain in my booty, and I am not gonna take it anymore!" There follows a detailed description of Becky's many transgressions, most of which involve making fart noises at the most inappropriate of moments, after which Black Sue leaves Becky alone with The Maharishi to receive her just punishment. "Becky Jackson," Principal Figgins sighs, "you can't insult the sultry and mysterious Coach Roz Washington! She is an African-American treasure!" "I only misbehaved so she'd send me here to talk to you," Becky evenly replies. "I need to tell you something." Dun-dun-DUN!

Moments later, the lights snap on all across the school, and great is the rejoicing amongst the kiddies, indeed. "Citizens of McKinley," The Maharishi intones via the public address system, "the power has been restored. Congratulations to all of us for refusing to resort to idol worship and rampant cannibalism. We have discovered that the blackout occurred when a Mylar balloon congratulating my secretary, Donna, on her successful hysterectomy became trapped in an outlet behind a file cabinet. McKinley Titans, it is a new dawn: Let us welcome a new era of peace and prosperity! Yours truly, Principal Figgins." At that, The Maharishi switches off his microphone and sinks back against his plug-in lower back vibrator with an expression of profound relief on his face.

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Mr. Schue lectures the kiddies on "the power of singing a cappella," but everyone ignores him because he's an asshole.

Library. New Finn taps away at his trusty computer keyboard, asking His Mysterious Internet Correspondent, "Did you like my brilliant plan to reveal my secret in Glee Club?" New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent is all, "Um. What?" so New Finn explains, "I knew you'd be in there, and I was hoping that I could spot some kind of tell on your face right before I told everyone -- something to let me know you knew what I was going to say." So, wait a minute: New Finn staged that weepy confession of his just to get a rise out of His Mysterious Internet Correspondent? Wow. Dick move, dude. You sure got a pretty mouth, though, so I guess you can stay. For now.

Naturally, New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent pouts, "I don't know why you're so convinced I'm in Glee Club," so New Finn has to instant-message another reference to The Incident, and he follows that up with a few additional flirtatious notes that eventually elicit the following from whomever's on the other end of this conversation: "Why are you still talking to me? I mean, you already know that I lied to you about who I am." New Finn considers that excellent question for a moment, then replies, "I don't know who you are, and I don't know what's going to become of us, but I do know that this thing we are doing -- whatever it is -- is working for me." Loser. New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent seconds that emotion, for whatever that's worth, then steps away from the keyboard long enough for...

...Pretty Kitty to pop up from out of nowhere to invite New Finn to lunch, and yes, we're meant to believe it's her on the other end of all of this furious texting and messaging, and yes, I'm convinced that the answer to this particular puzzle cannot be that obvious, and yes, New Finn's Mysterious Internet Correspondent is still so totally Not-So-Unique, but you know what? I'm finding it incredibly difficult to care one way or the other at this point. They've only teased this storyline out across five episodes so far, but five episodes from Glee often feels like the equivalent of twenty-five or thirty from any other show, so you'll forgive me, I'm sure, for thinking they should have been done with this a year and a half ago already.

ANY-way, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: Pretty Kitty quite conveniently stops by at this very moment to invite New Finn to lunch, but he'd rather wait for His Mysterious Internet Correspondent to come back online, so Pretty Kitty's gonna have to enjoy that five-dollar foot-long all by herself. And then she can maybe get herself a sandwich. Needless to say, New Finn's cavalier attitude vexes Pretty Kitty to no end, and she flounces off in a huff. New Finn rises to follow her, but just then, His Mysterious Internet Correspondent returns, and he gets sucked back into their virtual conversation right before he gets sucked into this evening's final commercial break.

Fake Drama School In New York, Temporarily Sober Dance Division (After Dark). Santana Lopez arrives late for her first continuing education class, and the no-nonsense instructor with all the severe hair chides her for her tardiness. "I like to make an entrance," Santana breezily replies. Naturally, this doesn't sit well with the no-nonsense instructor with all the severe hair, and bitchy words are exchanged until the no-nonsense instructor with all the severe hair finally asks, "What are you doing here?" "I love to dance," Santana responds, momentarily dropping the attitude. "I'm an artist," she continues, "but I've sort of lost touch with that part of myself lately, and so I'm here to do some reintroducing." The no-nonsense instructor with all the severe hair can dig that -- her words, not mine -- and with something of a truce thus established between them, the no-nonsense instructor with all the severe hair orders the class to the barre for some warm-up exercises. Santana dutifully takes her place and makes with the plies until she completely strokes out and hallucinates a vision of her much-younger self on the other side of the room. As her brain starts leaking out of her ear -- or maybe that's my brain leaking out of my ear -- Santana crosses to reintroduce herself to herself, and it's all exactly as gross and unnecessary as you think it is.

April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Led by Artie, the children of The New New Directions perform their entirely a cappella version of Billy Joel's "The Longest Time," and while it's a thoroughly competent rendition, to be sure, it's also as thoroughly dull as only an entirely a cappella version of Billy Joel's "The Longest Time" can be. Of note, however, are the alternately miserable and filthy looks Pretty Kitty keeps shooting at the utterly oblivious New Finn, and as I can't remember the last time they even attempted to further a storyline during one of the kiddies' big finales, I suppose I can't completely hate this number. And when it's over, everyone hoots and hollers until we finally snap to black.

week: Old friends are back, old flames are rekindled, old battles reignite, and really old recappers return for the evening. Yes, gentle reader, the lovely and talented LTG will be covering this season's penultimate episode, so please be on your best behavior.

Demian's wondering how "a tiny, moldy Lima storefront" dance studio can also be "up a very steep and narrow stairway." You may forward your theories on the matter to demian_twop@yahoo.com.

By Demian

Demian's wondering how "a tiny, moldy Lima storefront" dance studio can also be "up a very steep and narrow stairway." You may forward your theories on the matter to demian_twop@yahoo.com.