In Ohio: We rejoin this never-ending school year after our lengthy winter hiatus to find Single-T Tina and Artie tied for valedictorian at The Graduation Ceremony That Will Never Arrive. Principal Sylvester contrives to have the two battle each other in a speech-off to be judged by herself, Janitor Figgins, Coach Beiste, and Mr. Schue, and while Artie and Tina initially snarl and hiss and hurl insults at each other for a variety of reasons to be mentioned later in the full recap, they each end up insisting that the other be given the honor, mainly because the script says so. This remarkable display of selflessness from the children involved results in an evenly split vote amongst the adults on the judging panel, so Principal Sylvester in her infinite wisdom demotes both Artie and Tina to salutatorian while throwing the top spot of Dreamboat Blaine, because why the hell not? And so Artie and Tina initially snarl and hiss and hurl insults at Blaine over this latest bit of utterly unrealistic fuckery until Blaine in his infinite wisdom decides that the three of them should skip the speechifying and sing a song together at graduation, instead, and everybody kisses and makes up.
In New York: Santana Lopez auditions for the job of Old Idiot Rachel's Funny Girl understudy, and proceeds to blow poor little woefully miscast Peter Facinelli completely away. Naturally, this leads to much psychotic shrieking from The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway, and after a couple of slapfights and a few heated exchanges, divalicious Rachel stomps out of The Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft, never to return again. Pity she'll still have to see Santana every single day at the theater and the coffee shop and the band rehearsals and whatnot.
In Other News: Some little-d drama transpires between St. Gay Of Lima and Adam Lambert for some dumb band-related reason, but they eventually kiss and make up, too. Unfortunately, St. Gay takes a photograph of that kiss and immediately Instagrams it to 3000 of his nearest and dearest friends on The Internets, so I'm sure we'll be receiving some Capital-D Drama between him and his fetching fiancé at some point in the very near future.
Featuring "Whenever I Call You 'Friend'" by Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks, as performed by Artie and Single-T Tina, with doo-woppy assistance helpfully provided by the other children in The New New Directions; "Brave" by Sara Bareilles, as performed by Old Idiot Rachel and Santana Lopez on the set of an especially dramatic New York magazine cover shoot; En Vogue's "My Lovin'," as performed by Tina and Artie during a disastrous mid-episode sing-off; Funny Girl's "Don't Rain On My Parade" for the bazillionth time, here performed by Santana as her audition piece; "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" by The Darkness, as performed by St. Gay Of Lima and Starrbooty for some reason or another; "Every Breath You Take" from The Police, as creepily performed by Rachel and Santana during their first rehearsal together; and Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway," as performed by Artie, Dreamboat Blaine, and Single-T Tina, again with appropriate backup provided by the other Ohio kiddies.
Snap open deep within the abhorrent confines of Café Contrivance. Santana Lopez slaps a tab down on one of her tables and starts to saunter over towards the counter when some clearly racist tourist loudly complains -- in broken Spanish, no less -- about the state of her order. Santana obviously (and justifiably) would like to tear this woman a new one, but she instead bites her tongue and calmly whisks the troll-woman's plate back to the kitchen as a ridiculously overexcited Rachel bubbles on over from points elsewhere to giggle, "Okay, I was certain you were gonna go all Lima Heights-adjacent and just throw those eggs on that lady's face!" "I need this job," Santana grits by way of response, adding, "I'm saving up to buy a noose, to hang myself with," and oh, honey: Why buy new when you can just borrow from Martha Dumptruck?
In any event, this of course leads to a little heart-to-heart between the two gals wherein Santana bemoans her sorry lot in life for a moment before they finally get to the real point of their conversation, at least as far as this particular episode is concerned: "It's okay to complain to me," Rachel assures her. "It means we're friends!" "I just have this weird guilt-trip thing about being friends with you," Santana admits, "because I was so awful to you in high school." "It's fine," Rachel insists, promising, "I forgive you!" while pointing out that their time at McKinley High is well in the past, and that they're all best buddies now. Santana continues to mope that she's "crapping the bed" as far as her higher aspirations are concerned, so Rachel decides to cheer her up by inviting her to a Funny Girl-related cover shoot for New York magazine. "There's gonna be models," Rachel quite literally squeals, "and I think I have enough juice to ask if you can be one of them!" "You can get your hair done," she continues, "and your nails and your makeup, and there's all these free clothes -- are you in?" "Hells, yes!" Santana grins, and after the two merrily marvel at the unlikely yet happy fact of their incredibly stable and mature post-high school relationship, Santana tops it all off by sighing, "You're a really good friend!" So, we all know these two are gonna be clawing away at each other's throat within the ten minutes, right? Of course right. Also: This evening's title card.
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Artie wheels himself out from the wings with some festively decorated package in his lap just as Single-T Tina appears at the back of the auditorium toting a small piece of festively decorated luggage, and as she descends the stairs to join him at the lip of the stage, Artie beams, "I'm really proud of us!" "Why's that?" Tina prompts. "'Cause even after you and I broke up," Artie explains, "we were able to stay friends and continue our tradition of Tuesday lunch together!" Wait -- so his festively decorated package and her small piece of festively decorated luggage contain their lunches? How... excessive. Oh, and also: It probably goes without saying that this odd emphasis on their supposed friendship so early in the episode of course means that these two are gonna be clawing away at each other's throat within the ten minutes, right? Of course right, but first we must dispense with some necessary exposition: After Artie reminds us all he'll be attending Fake Film School In New York, Tina admits that she was wait-listed at Brown. Even worse, her safeties were "Ohio State and that dumb vet school," so if she isn't one of the lucky "two percent" who make the magical transition from Wait List to Matriculation, she'll be stuck in Lima for the rest of her life. Yeah, or she'll just move to Bushwick with the rest of these idiots like we all know she's going to do, anyway, and whatever, Tina, and is it time to cue the twangy guitar chords on the soundtrack yet? Because I have grown weary of this conversation.
Oh, and look at that! As twangy guitar chords appear on the soundtrack, and as the other kiddies in The New New Directions start crooning nonsense syllables out by their lockers for no apparent reason whatsoever, Artie muses, "We have, what -- a couple more Tuesdays at McKinley?" Oh, God, I hope so. "Let's make them count!" he enthuses, of course completely ignoring me. "From now until graduation," Artie determines, "Tuesday lunch is about music that'll cheer you up!" "That's a really flimsy segue," Tina eyebrows, but it's far too late for such percipient bitchery, for we're already in the middle this evening's first musical presentation, which is that sublime slice of late-'70s cheese, "Whenever I Call You 'Friend'" by Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks. And even though this number supposedly represents yet another landmark for the show -- it's their 600th performance, apparently -- there's nothing particularly exciting about its execution, which takes Artie and Tina on a spritely little jaunt from the stage to the music room, where the camera does little more than spin around them as they're joined by the rest of the Ohio children. (And no, Chord Overstreet has not cut his asstastic hair yet. Just in case you were wondering.) I mean, it's a fun little tune and all, but this feels like the 600th time I've seen the camera do little more than spin around whomever happens to be yodeling in the music room at the moment, so I'm more than just a little relieved when Becky Jackson barges in from the hall to order Artie and Tina over to Principal Sylvester's office, pronto.
"Stumbles?" Principal Sylvester opens, nodding in Artie's general direction before continuing, "Tina, Warrior Princess? Graduation is fast approaching and it is time to award the title of Senior Class Valedictorian." Artie and Tina indulge themselves in a matching pair of smug little smiles, for neither can see where this is going, because they are morons. "Now," Principal Sylvester observes, "as you are, respectively, a loner Asian who has trouble making friends and a nasal, Muppety disabled kid in a wheelchair, it should come as no surprise to you both that you're at the head of your class -- in fact, you're tied for number one. "Tied?" Tina scowls. "How is that possible?" Artie frowns. "Identical GPAs and extracurriculars," Principal Sylvester shrugs, "and you both have perfect attendance." "Unlike some members of the Glee Club who come and go for months at a time with no explanation," Principal Sylvester notes, "you two losers are always in that choir room -- even if, for an entire week, the only thing you have to do is say something inconsequential like 'Kitty's right!' or 'Blaine, are you serious?'" Heh.
Naturally, Tina and Artie protest that they can't both be valedictorian, and surprisingly enough, Principal Sylvester agrees with them. Just go with it. "We're going to settle this with a friendly little competition," Principal Sylvester announces. At the end of this week, Artie and Tina will deliver their proposed graduation speeches to "a blue-ribbon panel of idiots" chosen personally by Principal Sylvester, and whoever wins "will be crowned valedictorian." "That sound fair?" Principal Sylvester asks. "Actually, it doesn't," Artie shoots back, eliciting a bellowed "LIFE ISN'T FAIR, ABRAMS!" from the ever-helpful Becky out in the office antechamber. "Good!" Principal Sylvester grins, adding, "Then it's settled!" "Oh, and let this stand as a warning to you both," she cautions before dismissing them. "If, during the middle of your speeches, you decide to abandon your prepared text in favor of a musical number because the emotions you're feeling are just so complex they can only be expressed in song, I promise you I will dedicate my life to making sure that every beverage you drink until the day you die will have a just a tiny little bit of my pee in it." Hee.
Fake Drama School In New York, Permanently Sober Dance Division Now That Kate Hudson Is Never Returning To This Show, Ever. For whatever reason, New York magazine has decided to hold their Funny Girl cover story shoot here, and as various bored-looking assistants schlep various pieces of equipment from one side of the room to the other, an obnoxiously bewigged and practically manic Rachel clatters over to Santana Lopez's side to gibber, "Ohmigod! Can you believe all the amazing dresses? And all these girls are, like, the new up-and-comers from Julliard and Harvard and Yale, and okay, that girl over there? She just got the lead on AMC's new show about Victorian prostitutes! I'm so nervous, but I don't know if I'm nervous because I'm excited or because I'm scared, and this is so amazing!" I have to admit, Lea Michele was positively adorable during all of that. Rachel still bugs the living crap out of me, though. In any event: Finally, and at very long last, the super-supportive (for now) Santana eventually manages to get a word in edgewise, and after she assures Rachel that everything is absolutely terrific and that everything about the shoot will be simply fantastic, Rachel scampers off to change into a fairly exact replica of Barbra Streisand's Academy Awards Scaasi pantsuit, though Rachel's showing considerably less ass than Babs did forty-five years ago. I think.
Meanwhile, back at the craft services table, Santana Lopez drops into some kind of bizarre fugue state right there to the doughnuts, thereby launching us all into this evening's second musical performance, which is a fantasyland cover of Sara Bareilles's "Brave" as performed by Rachel and Santana, and wow. All those "amazing" dresses on the background models? Yeah, they're actually discount-rack prom gowns from Forever 21. Yecccch. Santana's deranged mind has managed to conjure up a considerably pricier costume for herself during this dream sequence, but as it's making her look like a sad little Latin boy in drag, I'm gonna have to give it a thumbs-down anyway. That said, I have to admit that both Naya Rivera and Lea Michele sound pretty damn good during much of what follows, though both of course have an unfortunate tendency to start caterwauling on the number's many, many, many glory notes, and when it's over, I find myself terribly grateful I will never have to listen to a Sara Bareilles song ever again.
Cut to The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, where Single-T Tina and Speed Racer are already hissing and scratching at each other thanks to this week's ridiculous McKinley-centric plot point. Tina rather nastily orders Artie to withdraw himself from the competition, as she needs valedictorian to "guarantee" her acceptance at Brown, and Artie just as nastily tells her to shove it. "It's not my fault you didn't apply to enough schools," he snots. "Maybe I was too busy making costumes and building sets and swaying in the background while everybody else was front and center!" she pisses, adding, "You always get everything you want, and I get nothing!" "Woman, are you insane?" Artie howls. "You just won Prom Queen!" he testily reminds her. "Which counts against me!" Tina shrilly insists. She's read online, you see, that "college admission directors think high-school prom queens are self-centered attention whores." "Exactly," Artie sneers, and the conversation deteriorates from there, with Artie calling Tina a "desperate," "alien" "hag" who "Vapo-raped Blaine," and Tina retorting that Artie's nothing more than Pretty Kitty's "sad," "sick" "charity project," and eventually, one of them calls the other one "McKinley's biggest bitch," but to be honest with you, I stopped paying attention to them midway through this scene, because we all know these temporarily addled little children are going to find a way somehow to kiss and make up with each other long before the episode's over, right? Of course right. Also: This evening's first commercial break.
We return to find St. Gay Of Lima shrieking something about "Starchild" at his fetching fiancé over the phone, and I actually had to look up who this "Starchild" person is because I'd totally forgotten that "Starchild" is Adam Lambert's asinine nickname on this show, and SHUT UP, KURT, because NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID BAND, and then he hangs up and reminds his roommates of their rehearsal that evening. The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway won't be able to make it, thank you very much, because Peter Facinelli is auditioning her Funny Girl understudy that afternoon, and she would appreciate it if St. Gay would understand all the "emotional stress" she's under at the moment because "it's really hard being a star," and SHUT UP, RACHEL, because you are FUCKING INSANE. Meanwhile, over at the kitchen table, Santana Lopez gets herself An Idea. Uh oh.
McKinley High Music Room. The ever-useless Mr. Schue speeds in from the hall to blather something about this season's ever-impending Nationals competition and, after we establish that Dreamboat Blaine will be performing one of the set's solos, Mr. Schue throws the floor open for suggestions regarding the set's other soloist. Naturally, both Tina and Artie nominate themselves, so Mr. Schue decides they'll have an immediate sing-off right there at choir practice rather than automatically giving the second solo to Tina because two boy solos at a Nationals competition is probably not the best strategy, because Mr. Schue is a moron, and...cue the goddamned spinny camera. Again. The song Artie and Tina promptly hurl themselves into -- entirely unrehearsed, of course, and with the other Glee kiddies instantaneously providing flawless backup, much as one would expect -- is En Vogue's "My Lovin'," and I think Tina's got this one in the bag, you guys. Well, until she accidentally knocks Artie out of his wheelchair during an especially aggressive dance move, that is. Ooops. The music screeches to a halt as Artie hits the floor, and even though Tina offers him her profuse and profoundly sincere apologies, she still receives a round of positively filthy glares from the other children present. Oh, Tina!
My Ancestral Homeland. St. Gay Of Lima has invited Adam Lambert over for some herbal tea and cucumber sandwiches, because St. Gay Of Lima's got it in his otherwise blank head that Starrbooty intends to take over the band, and as I believe I mentioned above: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID BAND, KURT. Jesus! The upshot of it all is that St. Gay Of Lima and Adam Lambert decide to shop for guitars, because sure! Why not?
St. James Theater. The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway and Peter Facinelli gape from the audience as some clueless schlump butchers "Beautiful Dreamer" up on the stage. And once it's over and the schlump's been summarily dismissed, Rachel again wonders why she even needs an understudy in the first place, given the fact that she's "incredibly healthy" and would therefore never, ever miss a performance. Peter Facinelli patiently reminds her that the union, and their producers, and their insurance company require a competent backup just in case, after which he proceeds to announce the candidate: Santana Lopez. DUN! Rachel, of course, howls in disbelief and rage, but it's too late, for the onstage band has already kicked in with the opening vamp to "Don't Rain On My Parade," and as if to add insult to injury, Santana's chosen to swipe not only Rachel's signature tune, but also Rachel's signature entrance, materializing as she does quite unexpectedly at the back of the auditorium. Naturally, I must insist on noting that Barbra did it better, but Santana's okay. I'm not a fan of this obnoxious new arrangement, which seems to have but a passing acquaintance with the original song's actual notes, and God knows someone needs to reintroduce Naya Rivera to carbohydrates at some point in the very near future, and I do believe the blocking's intentionally aping Lea Michele's disastrous Tony's performance, the latter of which makes me want to weep tears of blood all over again, but...you know. Santana's fine.
Of course, Peter Facinelli thinks Santana's fabulous, and he leaps to the stage to lavish her with praise -- because when it comes to Peter Facinelli's incredible levels of directorial discernment, he sure does got a pretty face -- and he's even more excited to learn that Santana and Rachel actually went to high school together. Meanwhile, The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway silently fumes her way into this evening's commercial break as the worms eat into her brain. Dun-dun-DUN!
We return just as St. Gay Of Lima and Adam Lambert enter some music shop creatively entitled "Guitar Empire," which is filled with a variety of manky-haired LA-style beach burnouts rather than actual annoying Brooklyn hipster-types, because this scene was secretly filmed 2,800 miles away from Bushwick on the Paramount backlot. In any event, St. Gay and Starrbooty presently find themselves at the center of this evening's musical number, because I guess this episode was running short on time, or something. Seriously, what follows has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but everybody sure does look like they're having fun with it, so who am I to judge? Glamberace leads all of his newest best friends in a rousing rendition of "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" by The Darkness, which is a song I don't think I've ever heard before in my life, and when it's over, Adam Lambert buys St. Gay Of Lima a guitar. Hooray!
My Ancestral Homeland. The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway screams at the long-suffering St. Gay Of Lima for a lengthy while until Santana Lopez returns to the loft from points elsewhere, whereupon The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway screams at the not-having-it Santana, eventually finding it within her demented little mind to shout, "Why did you audition without telling me!?" "Because I figured that we were going to fight about it, anyway," Santana patiently replies, "so we might as well go at it afterwards." "That way," she pointedly adds, "you don't have a chance to torpedo me." "Fanny Brice is a New York Jew!" Rachel protests. "You playing that role is like me being the grand marshal at The Puerto Rican Day Parade!" Santana's psychic Mexican third eye shoots daggers laden with astonishing amounts of ancient Aztec death mojo at Rachel for that particular slight, but Santana herself remains remarkably composed as she counters, "What if you weren't playing Fanny? If you weren't playing the lead, and I came home and said that I had auditioned to be the understudy, would you still feel so strongly?" Rachel babbles something about "arguing on principle," but Santana rightly calls her out on that line of crap, and St. Gay Of Lima waffles around uselessly in the background as his roommates light into each other until eventually, Santana lays it on the line. "Every step that you take in this city is fueled by all of the hate that we gave you!" Santana states, referencing the torment Rachel endured at The Cheerios' hands back in Lima. "All of that ambition is just you trying to prove us wrong," she continues, "which is fine!" "Just don't try to say that it isn't," Santana sniffily concludes, and I'd say she's making a good point, here, if I actually cared about this dumb fight they're having, but I don't, so whatever.
Anyway, St. Gay makes a feeble attempt to intervene, but The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway blows right past his wasted efforts to snarl, "You know what? You can't handle it! You can't handle that I have made it, and you are just begging to be my understudy!" "Okay, you know what?" Santana begins, clearly having had more than enough at this point, before hauling out the big guns like so: "Just admit that even with all of your years of singing lessons and dancing lessons, and only-child adoration from your gay Broadway dads, that I am just as good as you -- unlike you, I can be popular in high school and still make it big after graduation! Just admit that no matter what you do, or how far you go, you will never be able to scratch that itch. You will never be able to look down on me and redeem yourself, because I was better than you then, and I'm always gonna be better than you -- you are short, you are awful, and that is never going to change!" And I'm sure that Santana would continue in that delightful vein for another couple of minutes were it not for the fact that Rachel chooses this juncture to flat-out slap Santana across the face with enough force to snap Santana's head backwards. St. Gay gay-gasps -- loudly, I might add, and it is hysterical -- and then there's a long moment of silence wherein Rachel clearly realizes she's crossed some unforgiveable line, and a sudden flash of panic rips across her face that she just as quickly suppresses, so by the time Santana's managed to twist her skull back into its rightful place atop her spine, Rachel's eyeing her with steely determination. Or, you know, a reasonable facsimile thereof. "I think you should move out," Rachel says at last. Santana, surprisingly enough, agrees, but that's only until her cell phone buzzes, and of course it's Peter Facinelli on the other end of the line, and of course he offers her the role of Rachel's understudy, and once again, The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway silently fumes her way into this evening's commercial break as the worms burrow ever further into her brain.
April Rhodes Civic Pavilion. Principal Sylvester welcomes her blue-ribbon panel of idiots to "The McKinley High Valedictorian Speech-Off," and said panel of blue-ribbon idiots quite naturally includes Janitor Figgins, Mr. Schue, and Coach Beiste, mainly because they're apparently the only other adults these days at this goddamned high school. Carmina Burana-esque thundering rumbles throughout the auditorium as Tina and Artie -- each clad in Principal Sylvester's signature shade of take-no-prisoners red, no less -- stalk and roll onto the stage, respectively, in slow motion, and with terribly determined looks on their faces. "Your job today," Principal Sylvester instructs her blue-ribbon idiots, "is to decide which of these speeches is slightly less awful." "That being said," Principal Sylvester dourly concludes, "allow me to present absolutely no one's favorite New Direction, Tina Cohen-Chang."
Tina resolutely approaches the onstage microphone and...proceeds to withdraw her name from consideration, because she and Artie kissed and made up at some point during the last couple of days. And then Artie more or less does the exact same thing. No, seriously. Of course, it's a little more amusing than that rather terse description might lead you to believe -- Artie references those mechanical legs that allowed him to walk "for an hour" before they crapped out forever, and he floridly insists "it's no exaggeration to say that Tina took [his] broken body in her arms and taught [him] how to love" (even though I'm pretty sure he's actually thinking of Brittany), while Tina makes mention of her abysmal attempts at stuttering before placing Artie in the company of such "fallen heroes" as Rosa Parks and Mahatma Gandhi -- but that's basically it. And when they're done -- and long after both Janitor Figgins and Coach Beiste have dissolved into heaving sobs, by the way -- Principal Sylvester sums the entire experience up quite neatly with, "What a treacly, stomach-turning waste of everybody's time." "I hate you both," she adds for good measure, and the scene concludes with Principal Sylvester announcing, "The judges will now make their decision while I find a wastebasket to dry-heave mouthfuls of yellow bile into." Likewise, I'm sure.
St. James Theater. Santana Lopez sashays her way into The Horribly INSANE Hooker Of Broadway's dressing room and plants herself in front of the makeup mirror like she owns the place. Which she probably will, in a couple of weeks. Though that's just a guess, so don't hold me to it. In any event, Rachel soon storms in to commence with the bitchery -- again, some more -- and when Rachel threatens Santana with a repeat of that earlier scene's physical abuse, Santana gets in a pretty good one like so: "I would love for things to get physical -- I will hit you so hard that you won't be able to wake up until you're old enough to be 'Funny Lady'!" God, that movie was awful. Eventually, the rapidly escalating catfight draws Peter Facinelli's attention, and he pops his head inside the dressing room door to tell the two gals to knock it the hell off. Do they not realize the marketing coup this revival's just scored now that Santana's joined the cast? "We need all the press we can get," he duhs, "and I've got Pat Healy from The New York Times, David Cote from Time Out, and Adam Hetrick from Playbill-Dot-Com all begging me to break the story of the two girls from the same high school in Ohio who made it big in the same Broadway show." "Two old friends, finding fame, love, and fortune in the big city?" he adds. "Hell of a hook -- you're both gonna get plenty of attention individually, but as a team? You'll be twice as famous." With that, Peter Facinelli orders them both downstairs for their first rehearsal together, thereby inadvertently cuing up...
...this evening's musical number, which just happens to be an absolutely inexplicable and hilariously wrongheaded cover of The Police's "Every Breath You Take" as sung by Rachel and Santana whilst striking fluttery little Fanny Brice poses down on the theater's stage with a quartet of prancing, pit-stained extras. It would be fine, I guess, if they just stuck to the stanzas that end in "I'll be watching you," but they've got Lea Michele and Naya Rivera harmonizing on that whole creepily obsessive "long for your embrace" bit in the middle, and unless I missed a major plot development at some point in the last five years, these characters were never even remotely involved with each other, romantically speaking, so this whole sequence just ends up being about fifteen different kinds of HUH? and WHAT?! and NOOOOOOOO! all at the same time. God, this show. This awful, wretched, horribly crappy show.
And when it's over -- when the rampant stupidity of it all is finally over -- we blunder into this evening's commercial break wondering what the fuck we just saw.
The Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft. Glamberace and St. Gay Of Lima chit-chat about old-fashioned vinyl albums and The Brooklyn Flea and whatnot, and Adam Lambert is especially vibrant and charming during this scene, indeed, but let's wrap up this excruciatingly boring subplot already, okay? Long story short, Starrbooty insists he has no designs on St. Gay's band, and St. Gay believes him, so the two boys kiss and make up. Like, literally -- Adam Lambert plants a saucy little wet one on St. Gay Of Lima's cheek just as St. Gay snaps a selfie of the two of them to, like, document their accord, or whatever, and St. Gay finds the photograph so especially vibrant and charming that he immediately Instagrams it to approximately eight thousand of his nearest and dearest on The Internet. Dumbass.
Lair Of The Sylvester. Artie and Tina sit expectantly in the guest chairs, holding hands with hopeful smiles on their faces until Principal Sylvester flatly announces, "Congratulations, morons -- you split the vote." "It's a tie," she repeats, adding, "Now I have no choice but to make you co-salutatorians and elevate the student ranked number three to the class valedictorian." "Who?" I'm sure either Artie or Tina squints. Why, Blaine Anderson, of course! I have no problems with this entirely reasonable decision, do you? Hmmm? Unfortunately, Tina's of a different mind on the matter, and after she leaps to her feet to howl, "WHAT?!" we cut over to...
...The Hallowed Halls Of Dear McKinley High, where Dreamboat Blaine's just now apologizing to Tina and Artie for Principal Sylvester's entirely reasonable decision, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with it. You know: Apparently. "I know this sounds like a humblebrag," Blaine sighs, "but honestly? I feel like sometimes things just get handed to me." Hee. Becky Jackson chooses this moment to inform Dreamboat Blaine of his fretful fiancé's apparent Instagram indiscretion, but Blaine insists that St. Gay and Glamberace are just good friends. "My ass," Becky snorts. "And speaking of ass," Becky adds with a wicked glint in her eye, "it looks like Pancake Face is gettin' some!" With that, Becky Jackson cackles off into this evening's commercial break, leaving Dreamboat Blaine smiling somewhat uneasily in her wake. Aren't you just dying to know what he's thinking right now? Huh? Well, don't worry -- I'm sure we'll be hearing all about it, at length, over the course of the forty-three episodes. God, I hate this show.
Music Room. And it's time to put a neat little bow on this week's primary McKinley subplot, so: Long story short, while both Tina and Artie have withdrawn their names from consideration for the second solo at Nationals, Dreamboat Blaine has decided to ensure they'll both be able to snag the spotlight at graduation. "I thought," he explains, "that instead of boring everybody with the traditional valedictorian speech where I tell people to follow their dreams and blah, blah, blah, I could actually affect people by singing." He'd like Artie and Tina to help him select an appropriate tune, and when the time comes, all three will sing it together, despite the fact that Principal Sylvester's certain to spray the stage with bullets should any of these dimwits open their mouths in song. "And, Tina?" Blaine adds. "We should film the rehearsal and send it to Brown -- they're so artsy and progressive that I'm sure once they see it, they're just gonna open up those Van Wickle Gates, looking for you!" "They better open them really wide," Pretty Kitty leans in to smile, and ha! That was completely uncalled-for. And all the funnier because of it.
Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, I'm afraid there's no pretty little bow to place on this evening's primary storyline, because they've apparently decided to drag this crap out through the end of the season. Basically, The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway insists that Santana Lopez move out of the apartment, now, and she demands that St. Gay Of Lima back her up on this. He, surprisingly enough, refuses to do so, insisting instead that the ladies resolve their differences because they're all in this together, or some such bullshit, so Rachel's all, "FINE! I'M LEAVING!" Which of course solves exactly zero problems, because The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway is still going to have to deal with Santana at the theater, and at the diner, and at St. Gay's stupid little band rehearsals, but whatever. Santana's all, "Don't let the door hit you in your fat ass on the way out!" And I feel no shame at all in admitting I am firmly on Santana's side as far as this latest bit of contrived lunacy is involved. No shame at all.
Cut back to The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where Artie, Tina, and Blaine have apparently already decided upon their song for graduation, and it's Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway," and yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. Sorry, but my Kelly Clarkson appreciation starts and ends with...well, I was gonna say "Since You've Been Gone," but I just now realized that song's title is actually "Since U Been Gone," which: Fuck U, Kelly Clarkson. Only Prince gets to pull that shit. And shut it with your whining while you're at it, already, too.
ANY-way, again with the spinny camerawork in Ohio, but this performance is intercut with some silent scenes of Capital-D Drama over in Brooklyn, most especially when The Batshit Bimbo Of Broadway rips up a photograph of herself and Santana in happier times and then flings the torn pieces right into Santana's stupid, ugly face! SO THERE! And as The Batshit Bimbo vanishes out onto the mean streets of New York City all by her lonesome, we finally fade to black.
week: More of the same, only this time with that song from The Breakfast Club! Again! See you then!
Demian might be developing a thing for Adam Lambert. You may castigate him for his utter lack of taste and refinement at demian_twop@yahoo.com.