...The Glee Kids to complain about it for us. "This can-not be happening!" Single-T Tina seethes once the camera's settled on her irritated face over in the music room. "It does seem like a terrible idea," Artie agrees, but Mr. Schue will brook no dissent. "It's not up for discussion," he asserts. "Now," he continues, "it's no secret that Coach Sylvester has taken her licks...." Cut to Santana, who rolls her eyes as she unleashes the following gem: "I mean, just...wanky." Mr. Schue doggedly ignores that particular remark in favor of arguing that Coach Sylvester deserves a little sympathy. "All she's ever done is make our lives miserable," Quinn counters. "She got exactly what she deserved," Santana opines. Sue cocks an eyebrow in Santana's direction and rather deliciously states, "You're lucky I left my blowgun at home, Airbags, 'cause I got a clear shot at your nonnies." Surprisingly, this delightful crack does not lead to another round of intense bickering and, after a bit more speechifying from Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester that seems to settle the matter for the time being, everyone sits back so Mr. Schue might segue into the following bit of Regionals-related news: New Directions will be facing both The Dalton Academy Swallows and Westvale High's Aural Intensity at the impending competition, which for the first time is to carry a theme, said theme being "Anthem."
Lady Lips immediately shoots a hand into the air and asks for permission to perform, as he's of the opinion the Bieb-tastic masterpiece he'd lately been perfecting qualifies for Regionals consideration "because it's just hugely emotional and sums up our generation." Quinn and I both strenuously roll our eyes at that asinine assertion, but Mr. Schue cedes the floor anyway, and Lady Lips quickly propels himself into a full-throated, fully choreographed version of that atrocity we heard him warbling earlier. Needless to say, it's dreadful, and in ways that absolutely beggar description, but then again: That's the whole point. And so, as Lady Lips prances around like a gawky little fifteen-year-old incubus sent straight from the flaming pits of Hell to smother us all in our sleep, the noxious Power Of The Biebs overwhelms each and every single Glee Gal until they're practically pelting Lady Lips with their panties. The gentlemen present are, quite naturally, appalled, and none more so than Finn, but their trifling opinions matter not at the moment, for even Sue Sylvester herself is smitten, and when it's all over, she leans forward to peer intently at Lady Lips and murmur, "I gotta get that girl on my Cheerios!" Commercial.