In Ohio: After Single-T Tina captures an especially embarrassing video of Dreamboat Blaine twerking in the choir room, Mr. Schue decides to train all the children on the finer points of the latest dance craze to sweep the nation in the deeply misguided belief that this will give The New New Directions the edge they need to defeat Throat Explosion at Nationals. Naturally, Principal Sylvester has numerous problems with this, and she takes to the airwaves of western Ohio to decry what she sees as the latest in a very long line of filthy assaults on good old American decency, promising to ban for all time this particular brand of lewd and suggestive wiggling at McKinley High. Things escalate rather quickly from there -- as one would expect -- but Will somehow manages to get the school board on his side, so it would seem he's won yet another round of his never-ending feud with Sue, right?
Not so fast. While all that was happening, a bunch of mouthbreathers repeatedly threatened Unique with physical violence, primarily due to the fact that she's been forced to use the boys' bathroom all this time. In a cold-bloodedly calculating move I'm not entirely certain I find acceptable, Principal Sylvester decides to exploit this issue in order to force Mr. Schue's hand, and in exchange for a promise from Will never to incorporate twerking into anything he does ever again, Sue agrees to grant Unique access to the faculty's private facilities during school hours. Not sure what message Sue's trying to send, there, but I probably shouldn't care, because God knows they're never going to address this storyline again.
In New York: The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway convinces St. Gay Of Lima that they've fallen into a rut as of late, so they suck down a couple of limoncellos and go get tattoos. Hijinks ensue, naturally, but the two emerge from the experience having learned A Very Important Lesson About Themselves, so good for them. I think.
In Other News: More stupid relationship crap.
Featuring "You Are Woman, I Am Man" from Funny Girl, as performed by The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway and Horatio Hornblower; Robin Thicke's repellent "Blurred Lines," as performed by Mr. Schue and a variety of supposedly underage teenagers; Beyoncé's "If I Were A Boy," as rather touchingly performed by Urethra Franklin; the inevitable "Wrecking Ball" by Miley Cyrus, as performed by a heartsick Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel; and "On Our Way" by The Royal Concept, as performed by the children of The New New Directions.
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As "Came To Party" by Kanary Diamonds grooves along on the soundtrack, the camera staggers woozily through the darkened and empty school hallway until it lands upon a halfway-open door, through which it peeps to find the blissfully unaware Dreamboat Blaine popping his booty whilst rearranging the chairs in the music room. Somewhere behind the camera, Single-T Tina giggles, then calls out, "What are you doing?" Instantly mortified -- as well he should be -- Blaine charges towards both Tina and us, frantically screaming "Get out of here!" while pushing us all backwards through...
...the screen on Single-T Tina's product-placed smartphone. As most of the other children huddle around her up in the cheap seats on what I'm guessing is the following afternoon, Tina rewinds to the beginning of the clip so they all might point and laugh at Dreamboat Blaine's moment of abject humiliation some more. Naturally, Mr. Schue suddenly decides to drag a teachable moment out of all this, and he falsely claims, "This is nothing to be embarrassed about!" before noting, "Look at how you're all riveted by that video -- that's the kind of reaction we need from the judges if we're gonna one-up Throat Explosion at Nationals!" Yeah, whatever, Schue. "We need to edge-up our America's Sweetheart image a little bit," he continues, ignoring me as is his wont as he adds, "Show the judges that we're not afraid to rebel!" Of course, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel raises one of her meek little hands to point out that some of the children present might not be all that adept at popping it like it's hot, so Mr. Schue grandly promises them all something he's calling a "twerk-torial" right after we all make it through this evening's title card.
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. The children have gathered on the stage for the abovementioned tutorial, and as Miss Amani wonders who's on her rocket over on the soundtrack, Pretty Kitty and New Puck put The New New Directions' "basic bitches" through the latter's paces. It should surprise no one to learn that Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel is especially awkward during the lewd wiggling that follows, but that's not important right now because we've just caught sight of Principal Sylvester lurking in the shadows of the lighting booth on the far side of the auditorium. Principal Sylvester eyes the stupidity now transpiring down on the stage for a moment or two and scowls mightily before she tightly purses her lips and stalks off out of the frame. Dun-dun-DUN!
Cut abruptly to some nameless beauty salon in New York City, where The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway informs her anonymous stylist, "I need a transformation -- to shed some old skin. I want to look completely different." The camera takes its sweet time pushing in on her nervous expression as she gazes at her reflection in the salon's mirror, and then we're off to...
...a generously-appointed rehearsal hall somewhere else. Old Idiot Rachel darts through the door to greet Peter Facinelli and Horatio Hornblower with a breathless "Hi!" and there's some vaguely disturbing babbling from Peter Facinelli about stimulating the "sexual organs" of every member of the Funny Girl revival's audience with the number they're about to run through before The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway removes her knit cap to reveal her brand-new and pin-straight bobbed 'do. "This is a joke, right?" Peter Facinelli gapes, aghast. Old Idiot Rachel natters something about the extensive research she's done on popular women's hairstyles in early-'20s Manhattan, but Peter Facinelli's panties remain in a tremendous wad, and he lectures her on the finer points of that professional contract she signed a couple of months ago and whatnot while I mutter, "Like they weren't gonna wig her, anyway," to no one in particular until it's time for The Horrible Hooker and Horatio Hornblower to throw themselves into this evening's first musical number, "You Are Woman, I Am Man." And it's...surprisingly dull, actually. I mean, it's not one of Funny Girl's better-known numbers nowadays to begin with -- and probably for good reason -- but Horatio especially comes across as rather bland and limp during it all, and there's only so much Rachel can do on her own to make up for her leading man's startling lack of charisma.
Of course, Peter Facinelli thinks otherwise, as he proves when he showers them both with effusive amounts of praise once the number's over, and wow. This revival's gonna be a trainwreck, isn't it? Poor Rachel.
Meanwhile, back in Ohio, Urethra Franklin interrupts Mr. Schue's error-filled lecture on The Nineteenth Amendment to ask for a bathroom pass, as she and that stunning lavender-colored statement necklace of hers overindulged themselves in the Diet Coke that morning. Mr. Schue cheerfully obliges her, and the thing we know...
...Unique's tiptoeing into The Novak, much to the loud objections of New Santana Lopez, who'd been freshening her lip gloss at the bathroom mirror. "What the hell are you doing in here?" New Santana snarls. "Oh, I'm sorry!" Unique hastily LIES. "I thought this was the little boys' room!" New Santana's not buying it, and she somehow manages to coerce the truth from Unique: The school's administration apparently still expects Unique to use the boys' bathroom, and needless to say, that makes Unique just a wee tiny bit uncomfortable, so she's been sneaking into The Novak during class "so no one finds out or gets upset." And if you're wondering why this is suddenly a plot point now, nearly a year and a half after the character was added to the main McKinley cast, it's because the California state legislature just passed a transgender student rights law that might get repealed at the ballot box. So, you know, get out there and vote! Um, November! If you live in California! And you're over 18! Whatever.
Anyway, New Santana Lopez vows to keep Unique's secret to herself, which of course doesn't happen, as the subsequent montage immediately proves. "And that's how it all started," Unique's voiceover narrates as New Santana sashays out into the hall with a self-satisfied smile on her face, "The Great McKinley Bathroom Gender Riot Of 2013." "Bree figured out that the boys' room was a great place to make out in and not get caught," Unique's Voiceover continues as New Santana sneaks into the gentlemen's lav to assault a decidedly receptive New Puck. "Stoner Brett," Unique's Voiceover confides as the gentleman in question's dim expression fills our television screens, "started using the girls' bathroom because it was cleaner and it smelled better, and he heard a rumor that the toilet seats were heated." "And then," Unique's Voiceover adds atop an appropriate series of visuals, "the girls started using the boys' room when they realized that boys never had to wait in a line." "It was chaos!" Unique's Voiceover concludes just as Unique herself arrives in The Novak at some later point in time to find an impromptu rave in full swing, complete with glowsticks and mood lighting and gyrating cheerleaders atop the sinks, spraying the throbbing crowd below with soda. Yeah, I don't know. Though you should probably keep all of this in mind later in the episode, when they completely forget they ever showed us this sequence to begin with. God, I hate this show.
My Ancestral Homeland. St. Gay Of Lima sits on the couch, scarfing down a pint of ice cream while surfing through a series of nature documentaries on the loft's TV, as The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway trundles through the door to exclaim, "I just had the most incredible experience of my life!" "Oh, my God!" St. Gay gay-gasps upon catching sight of Old Idiot Rachel's new 'do. "Did you cut your hair?!" he shrieks, absolutely appalled. Old Idiot Rachel promptly strips off the wig she's been wearing since that scene in the salon to prove to us all that no, she didn't really cut her hair. Seems she simply felt a need to "rebel a little bit" against Peter Facinelli's "too-specific" direction "in order to have more room to play," so she decided to fuck with her boss's mind a little bit that afternoon at rehearsal. "But what if he got mad about you lying to him?" St. Gay flusters. "Or what if he sent you packing?" Legitimate concerns, both, but Old Idiot Rachel just breezily sweeps them aside to note, "You know what, Kurt? You've become boring." "You go to class," she frowns, "and then you come home and you watch your stories and eat all this food and you Skype with Blaine -- and it's not even sexy Skyping! I know this because you just go to sleep!" "I change up my afternoon smoothie occasionally," St. Gay sniffs, but Rachel's basically ignoring him at this point, the better to drift into the following reverie: "It felt so good taking a risk with this wig -- it's, like, I just I felt so alive. And I know I could have messed everything up, but I didn't even care! It's, like, I just wanted to risk it all!"
"What's gotten into you?" Kurt mumbles around a mouthful of junk food. "I don't know," Rachel admits, "but do you remember in high school, when everything felt so urgent? Like if we didn't just go for it, we'd lose our chance forever?" "Yes," Kurt snorts with vast amounts of disdain, adding, "It was very stressful." "I want to feel that way again," Rachel insists, basically ignoring him once more, so Kurt puts his thinking cap on, and he eventually guesses, "Does this have something to do with [your dead ex-boyfriend]? "If part of my grieving process is diving headfirst into life," Rachel regally allows, "then maybe." Kurt eyes her for a moment or so, then decides, "All right -- you got me: Let's go out and do something crazy." "Like what?" Rachel demands. "Let's go use flash photography at the Met!" Kurt excitedly suggests. "Small potatoes," Rachel pffts almost instantly before suggesting, "How about we break out the bottle of limoncello you've been saving up?" "What for?" Kurt grins. "Anesthesia!" Rachel cryptically replies with a broad smile of her own, and I think it's safe to say we should all be preparing ourselves for some extremely wacky hijinks in the very near future, presumably after this evening's first commercial break. Joy.
And look at that! Wacky hijinks! Unfortunately, they don't involve The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway and St. Gay Of Lima. Yet. No, instead we find ourselves over in the WOHN newsroom with Rod Remington and Andrea Carmichael, the latter of whom apparently recovered quite nicely from her nervous breakdown earlier this year, thank you very much. For his part, Rod lets us know that "both orangutans have been charged with solicitation and impersonating a police officer" before he throws things over to Principal Sylvester for the latest installment of "Sue's Corner." Sue, naturally, wastes little time launching herself into the following tirade: "America, tonight I address a nation at war. Now, I'm not referring to Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad, who gassed his own people when they began to make fun of his extremely hilarious lisp. No, this nation faces a far more insidious foe: Miley Cyrus and the genital-flapping dance known as 'twerking' that makes men and women alike look like overgrown, constipated toddlers. This vulgar, sexually explicit excuse for a dance craze has brought American culture to a new low, and that's why tonight, Western Ohio, I solemnly pledge to end the pandemic of twerking once and for all!" Not only will Principal Sylvester outlaw twerking at McKinley High effective immediately, she's also submitted a bill to the Ohio legislature that would ban the dance from all schools statewide. "And Hannah Montana," Sue continues, "can go back to naked-straddling the three-ton wrecking ball she was clearly upsold at Home Depot, as the tiny cinderblock room she's elected to demolish is only about twelve square feet and already has a wall missing." And that's how Sue sees it.
Cue the screaming over at McKinley High. It's the morning following Principal Sylvester's television appearance, apparently, and the children of The New New Directions are up in arms over Principal Sylvester's latest assault on their "God-given right" to make jackasses out of themselves. Mr. Schue bumbles in from elsewhere to toss gasoline on the already-raging music room fire with a rousing speech in which he claims that twerking is, as he would have it, "about blurring the lines between the past and the present, between men and women, [and] between tradition and envelope-pushing." "It's all in that Alan Thicke song I looooove!" he adds, swooning a bit. "'Blurred Lines' by Robin Thicke?" Artie squints. "Exactly!" Mr. Schue enthuses. "That's...not what that song is about," Artie attempts to warn him, but poor Artie's sage protestations fall upon deaf ears, for Mr. Schue's already launched himself into...
...a heavily-censored-for-primetime version of the song in question that takes his clueless ass sauntering through The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High like he's The Rapidly-Aging Pied Piper Of Grossly Inappropriate Behavior as an ever-growing number of supposedly underaged teenagers writhe along behind him on their way to the stage in The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, whereupon a twerk-off of sorts transpires amongst the kiddies. I have to admit, this sequence does look like it was a hell of a lot of fun to film. Unfortunately, the song's garbage, so the whole thing can rot in Hell for all I care.
Surprisingly enough, Will's abysmal levels of stupidity do not go unnoticed this week, for the thing we know, he's been called into Sue's office for an official dressing-down that goes something like this: "Will, you need to back your ass up to the fact that you, a married thirty-seven-year-old, just performed a song about coercive sexual advances as nine minors twerked alongside you down the hallways of a public high school!" You tell him, Sue. "This is about freedom of expression!" Will feebly argues in his own defense, but that crap just isn't cutting it tonight, and Sue fires him on the spot. Hooray! Will vows to appeal Sue's decision directly to the school board, which should be tremendous amounts of fun to watch because: Public council meetings, am I right? Yowza!
First, though, it's back to New York City to watch as The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway and St. Gay Of Lima fly through the door of a suspiciously spotless tattoo parlor to kick-start some wacky hijinks of their own, as they promised us all the way back before the last commercial break. Old Idiot Rachel's idea of doing "something crazy," you see, involves permanently inking her skin with a hastily-considered design she's all but guaranteed to regret once she sobers up into actual adulthood in a couple of years, and she's dragged St. Gay and his bottle of limoncello along for the ride. The two swig from the booze whilst prattling about their various options until the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor arrives at the counter to escort these two shallow dimwits into this evening's commercial break.
My Ancestral Homeland. Aftermath. It's the following morning, and as St. Gay Of Lima staggers from his sleeping nook towards the kitchen, Old Idiot Rachel greets him with a far-too-perky, "Good morning, Sunshine!" that St. Gay barely has enough strength to acknowledge. We're quite seriously meant to believe, you see, that St. Gay is now brutally hungover from the "two shots of limoncello" he ingested last night, and Glee can kiss my ass. In any event, the point of the scene that follows is this: St. Gay thought he got "It Gets Better" tattooed on his right shoulder blade, but alas! The thing actually reads, "It's Get Better." Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaaaaaaah! Old Idiot Rachel insists they head back to last night's tattoo parlor to have the design corrected, but St. Gay just frazzles, "Show me yours -- maybe he spelled 'Streisand' wrong, and we can be maimed together." Here, The Horrible Hooker is forced to admit she didn't go through with it after all. D'OH! "I was thinking about all of my favorite idols," she weakly explains, "and none of them have tattoos." "I'll go back with you," she promises, trying desperately to make amends, "and we can get your money back!" "What I want back," St. Gay shrieks, "I can't get: My innocence, my pride, and my unblemished alabaster skin!" And with that, he flounces back to his sleeping nook in a state of high dudgeon. Drama queen.
Meanwhile, back at McKinley, Unique nervously pushes against the door to the boys' lavatory. This time, instead of finding some wildly improbable rave awaiting her on the other side, she gets a trio of transphobic jocks who snatch off her wig and give it a shampoo. So much for The Great McKinley Bathroom Gender Riot Of 2013, I suppose. Really, why the hell did they bother with that earlier sequence if Unique's storyline this evening was actually leading her to this point? Whatever. This show's been of such poor quality thus far this season, I'm beginning to wonder if I should even be questioning this kind of stupidity anymore. Besides, this setup does feed directly into what ended up being the best number of the night, so it does have that going for it, at least.
As the jocks file out of the restroom, Unique and that stunning peach-colored statement necklace of hers cower in a corner behind the paper towel dispenser until a chord strikes the soundtrack, and Unique quietly sings the opening line to Beyoncé's "If I Were A Boy" while struggling to maintain her composure. After spending a few more moments by herself in the can, she magically transports herself over to the music room, where she continues the song in front of Mr. Schue and the other kiddies, accompanied by Tinkles on the piano and a couple of ladies on strings. At some point, the artfully lit tears start streaming down her face, and even though the song's actual lyrics don't have anything at all to do with Unique or her current situation, it somehow ends up feeling like a true, honest-to-God character song in spite of itself. It helps, of course, that Alex Newell is giving a fantastic performance, here -- I don't think I recall him singing anything requiring any sort of depth before on this show, but they should consider giving him more stuff like this in the future, because he's surprisingly great at it.
And when it's over, New Puck, Live Finn, and Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen promptly rise to their feet, ready to kick a little transphobic jock ass. However, both Mr. Schue and Unique herself argue that physical violence "won't fix anything." "In fact," Unique points out, "it'll probably make everything worse." The boys just stare at her by way of reply, feeling all thwarted, or something.
And after another abrupt cut, we suddenly find ourselves hurled into the middle of the school board meeting, which is being held in The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion for what is certain to be an incredibly stupid reason. And here that incredibly stupid reason comes, right after the board agrees "to dig up the school parking lot and move the Indian bones": The superintendent calls Mr. Schue to the podium, and there follows not an argument against his unfair dismissal by Principal Sylvester, nor an argument in favor of establishing a gender-neutral bathroom in the high school for students like Unique, but a two-and-a-half-minute-long presentation arguing against Principal Sylvester's decision to ban twerking at McKinley High, because that's the most important thing going on in this episode tonight. I'm not even going to bother with it -- it takes the form of a brief overview of the history of social dance in The United States, and that's all you need to know about that -- but by the end of the presentation, it seems clear Mr. Schue's gotten the school board on his side. And never have I been so happy to see a commercial break in all my life.
Principal Sylvester's Office. Will saunters in a little too casually from the hall and asks, "You wanted to see me?" "You can wipe that smug look off your face," Sue curtly replies, adding, "And while you're at it, wipe your chin. Because there's a butt on it." Will remains standing with that smug look still plastered firmly across his mug, so Sue quickly gets to the point. "I asked you here as an act of contrition," she reveals. "Wade 'Unique' Adams made an impassioned plea for a unisex bathroom at this school."
Smear sideways to Unique stating, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice." "Do you know who said that?" Unique asks. "Captain America?" Principal Sylvester guesses.
Smear back to the present, where Sue admits, "I was so moved I decided to provide him with it, so, from this day forward, let it be known that Unique will be able to dump dirt in the privacy of his very own crapper." "Wow," Will breathes, genuinely surprised. "Where is it?"
Cut to the choir room, which now features in the center of the floor a large purple Porta Potty bedecked with bright yellow question marks. "We have to move it," Pretty Kitty grimaces. "We tried," Dreamboat Blaine sighs. "It's bolted to the floor." "I am so sorry, guys," Unique apologizes, letting her hands get all fluttery as she insists, "This is like living a nightmare!" Just then, the Porta Potty door opens, and Single-T Tina hops out, still readjusting her skirt. "How could you?" Blaine winces, profoundly disgusted. "What?" Tina shrugs back at him. "It's convenient. Jeez, get your priorities straight!" Heh. Mr. Schue all but gags at the odor now clearly emanating from McKinley High's only gender-neutral restroom, and suggests the kiddies get back to practicing their twerking. Hee.
Tattoo Parlor. St. Gay Of Lima comes shrieking in from the street, bellowing insults at the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor, and long story short, that erroneous tattoo of his is actually his own fault. You see, St. Gay insisted on typing out precisely what he wished to have inscribed on his back, and in his drunken state the evening, he mistakenly garbled the phrase. D'OH! And why, I'm sure I hear you asking, did the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor not ask for clarification when St. Gay initially handed him that sheet of paper last night? "I don't ask questions," the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor notes with more than a hint of boredom in his tone, "because I don't want to hear everybody's bullcrap story about what their tattoo means." Makes sense to me. There follows an entirely pointless conversation during which St. Gay bemoans his lame attempts at injecting a little unpredictability into his tedious life, after which the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor offers to fix St. Gay's "mistake ink" at no additional cost. "I'll even throw in a tongue piercing," the establishment's supposedly intimidating proprietor adds, as kindly as he can. St. Gay initially gags at the very idea, but he eventually relents -- mainly because the script says he must -- and it is all very thrilling in the extreme, I'm sure, but hey! I wonder what's happening to Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel right about now!
No, I'm not actually wondering what's happening to Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel right about now, but I had to get out of that goddamned tattoo parlor, and the scene features her heavily, so there you go. So: Back at McKinley High, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel rounds a corner, only to find herself with a faceful of New Santana Lopez, and long story short, New Santana blabs about all the illicit lovin' she's been getting as of late from Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel's supposed boyfriend. "Jake's not like that!" Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel weakly protests before foolishly adding, "And if he was, he would aim a lot higher than trash like you!" "Gasp!" New Santana gasps, working up a tremendous amount of false outrage as she continues like so: "That is slut-shaming! You are using the derogatory label 'trash' for a female's natural sensuality -- it's femiphobic, neo-retro-genderist, and a clear form of sexual bullying!" "And as this beautiful poster clearly states," New Santana notes, gesturing towards the handy poster in question on the adjacent wall, "this is a bully-free zone." "But," she magnanimously concludes, "I will be the better person and not report you to Principal Sylvester for immediate expulsion." There's more -- including a bit where New Santana makes lascivious note of a secret mole located somewhere close to New Puck's dangly bits -- but I'm already spending far more time on this tiresome subplot than its substance justifies, so let's skip ahead to the bit where...
...Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel confronts New Puck about his filthy, lying, whorish ways, after which...
...Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel performs this show's inevitable cover of "Wrecking Ball," and the less said about that piece of crap, the better, so let's immediately head back over to...
...the music room, and the only subplot of any real consequence this evening, okay? Excellent. Amid a buzzing flurry of high-speed activity, Unique hesitantly raises her hand and, after she's caught Mr. Schue's attention, she admits she needs to use "the magic bathroom." "Okay," Pretty Kitty eyerolls, already heading for the door, "if Oprah's gonna drop The Cosby Kids off at the pool, I am not going to be here." Mr. Schue somehow manages to stop Pretty Kitty with one hand while boldly asserting that Unique will not be using the magical Porta Potty anytime soon, and with that, he invites Unique out into the hall. Meanwhile, back in the music room, Single-T Tina angrily hisses, "There is nothing wrong with the Porta Potty!" and twists on the knob to step inside. "Again?" an audibly perplexed Artie wonders from somewhere off-screen. "She just used it, like, five minutes ago!" Hee.
The camera soon catches up with Mr. Schue and Unique, and long story short, after a supposedly uplifting pep talk, Mr. Schue sneaks Unique into the faculty's private facilities. "From now on," he instructs, "whenever nature calls, I want you to find me, and I'm going to open this up for you." "No one needs to know how you identify yourself," Mr. Schue adds, pretty much missing, oh, the entire point of Unique's storyline this evening, "they just need to know you washed your hands after." The two hug, and it's all very touching, but what's that? Principal Sylvester, peering sullenly at them from just down the hallway? DUN!
Cut to Principal Sylvester's office, later that afternoon. Mr. Schue arrives without having first secured an appointment for himself, for which he takes a considerable amount of guff from Becky Jackson out in the office antechamber before Principal Sylvester shouts, "It's okay -- send him in." Once Will settles himself, Sue calmly states, "I saw you escort Unique to the teachers' restroom and let him use it, and I think it's degrading for him to have to do that, and it's given me a change of heart." Will remains silent, so Sue continues, "I would like to propose a deal -- I'll give Unique a key to that bathroom, on one condition: You and The Glee Club stop twerking, for good." "Sorry," Will replies without a moment's hesitation, "but there's no way in hell that I'm going to make that deal." "Oh, for God's sake, William," Sue exasperates, "that's your red line?" "This isn't about twerking," Will claims, getting a little heated, "this is about standing up to Sue Sylvester and her inane, out-of-touch meddling -- it's about rebelling against your repeated attempts to suppress The Glee Club and what we're trying to say!" Please shut him up, Sue. Please? Unfortunately, Sue chooses to remain silent at this juncture, easing herself back in her chair and allowing Will to continue his ridiculous diatribe like so: "When a law is unjust, it is your duty as an American to disobey -- it's called 'civil disobedience,' Sue!" "Have it your way," Sue eventually snaps. "The chemical toilet stays bolted to the choir room floor!" "Fine!" Will snots back, leaning forward to add, "And maybe I'll just throw a Sue Sylvester-style rebellion-tantrum as I leave this office!" Sue's sure she has no idea what he's talking about. "Oh, no?" Will eyebrows. "It goes a little something like this!" With that, Will goes on his weak version of a rampage through the office antechamber, knocking over a cart of books and whatnot, and it's just an embarrassing spectacle for everyone involved, and they're not even using the proper Carmina Burana music to accompany any of it, and when it's finally over, we mercifully cut out into this evening's commercial break.
My Ancestral Homeland. As St. Gay Of Lima trundles through the loft's door, Old Idiot Rachel calls out, "Hey, where have you been?" "It'th kinda hard to talk," St. Gay replies. "I pierthed my tongue," he admits, sticking the stud out so his roommate might get a better look at the thing. "Oh, my God!" Old Idiot Rachel squeals. "That is so gross!" she continues, cringing, "Does it hurt?" "It'th not that bad, akthually," St. Gay assures her, adding, "Louith did it for free when he fikthed my tattoo," and words cannot express how funny Kurt's piercing-induced lisp is in this scene. I'm actually finding myself leaning forward a little in my chair so I don't miss a single word of his dialogue, and that hasn't happened in years. Anyway, it seems the tattoo parlor's supposedly intimidating proprietor got "got a little creative with the phrathing" on Kurt's back, and his tattoo now reads, "It's Got Bette Midler." "I really do think he capthured my ethenth, given the thircumthtantheth," Kurt suggests. Rachel finds the altered tattoo both senseless and "genius," but she's still not too sure about the tongue stud. "I think I wath in the thame boat ath you," Kurt shrugs. "Ever thinth Finn died, I've been going about my bithneth, but I've altho kind of been in a tranth, and I gueth I jutht needed to be thocked back to life, and there wath thomething about having a metal thtud go through your tongue that duth the trick!" The two smile at each other, and there's a little more chit-chat until Kurt decides it's time to go Skype with his fiancé again. "Maybe if I play a little Maroon 5," he twinkles, "I'll get thyber-lucky!" Ew.
And once he's vanished into his sleeping nook, Rachel tiptoes into the loft's bathroom, hesitantly approaches the mirror, and eventually lifts her shirt to display the tiny little tattoo she now has of her dead ex-boyfriend's first name. That lying bitch. Just wait 'til St. Gay finds out about this!
McKinley High Music Room. Mr. Schue enters and solemnly wipes the giant "TWERK" from his trusty whiteboard before confirming that there will be no more twerking in the music room for the foreseeable future. The children moan and wail and gnash their teeth and rend their clothing, all the while wondering why? WHY?! "Uh, dipshits," Unique pretty much says, "did you not notice the magical Porta Potty's conspicuous absence in this scene? Mr. Schue caved." "Ooooooh!" the other children sigh, finally understanding. This somehow leads to a discussion about remaining true to yourself, which itself is simply an awkward segue into this evening's final musical number, and before you know it, we're...
...back on the stage in The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where the shiny, happy, peppy children of The New New Directions perform this shiny, happy, peppy song, primarily whilst splayed across one of those spinny childhood playground deathtraps I thought they banned twenty years ago. There's a quick cut over to New York to show how fresh and reinvigorated The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway and St. Gay Of Lima feel after this evening's little adventure, or some such bullshit, and then it's back to the auditorium stage, where Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel gets a solo because God knows we haven't had enough of her this evening, and finally -- at long last -- we fade to black.
week: The Billy Joel tribute episode you've all been clamoring for. Don't lie -- I know you want it. Have fun!
Demian will never get a tattoo. You may congratulate him on his good taste and sensible approach to life at demian_twop@yahoo.com.