And after a pause fraught with significant glances amongst those present on the stage, Coach Sylvester concludes, "Now, I promise to be nicer if you promise to work your talented little butts off until they hand you that first-place trophy in Chicago." Smiles abound and just when I feel the bile rise, I remember she's got an ulterior motive for them winning and I calm down a little bit. You know, even though they're going to fuck it all up in the end, anyway. "All right, sloppy babies!" Coach Sylvester calls out in a deliberate reference to the show's pilot. "Let's take it from the top!"
And here's where the acid kicks in. We return first to the hallowed halls of dear McKinley High, where Dreamboat Blaine bitches at St. Gay Of Lima about his brother for a bit, after which St. Gay suggests his boyfriend serenade Douchebag Boner with an appropriate song. Dreamboat Blaine thinks real hard about that one for a moment, sashays back into The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion to find the ever-mute members of The McKinley Jazz Ensemble already laying on the opening bars of Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To Know" and proceeds to sing this song to his even dreamier brother, even though "Somebody That I Used To Know" is about a romantically-involved couple who realize they hate each other. Now, mind you, I would probably pay good cash money to watch Darren Criss and Matt Bomer make out with each other, but in this context Dreamboat Blaine's magical song selection is just all kinds of nasty and wrong. And it gets even worse when Douchebag Boner joins Dreamboat Blaine onstage for a soulful duet. It totally doesn't help that they totally look like they're going to have hate sex the second they've finished yodeling in each others' faces. I feel so unclean.
And when it's over, the ever-mute members of The McKinley Jazz Ensemble slink off into the shadows, mortified by what they've just witnessed. Once they're gone, Dreamboat Blaine and Matt Boner, of course, make amends and I am more than ready to move on to the next scene when Matt Boner suddenly blurts out, "We're not just brothers, right?"
After the lengthy, l-e-n-g-t-h-y pause that follows, just when I'm about to start screaming and screaming and screaming for the rest of my life, Matt Boner brightly adds, "We're friends, too!" and I instantly feel the fool, because I am now willing to bet the heavy and heavily inappropriate sexual tension on display between The Brothers Anderson was a very deliberate and very sick joke on the part of this show's producers. And then I feel a little better about that last song.