Auditorium, where Will and Jesse St. James have set themselves up at a table midway up the first tier of seats for the impending auditions. Will admits he's not entirely convinced that forcing various of the children to audition for the Nationals lead is the best idea, because he doesn't want any of the children "to feel like they're losers." "But that's a crucial part of the process," Jesse St. James counters. "You see," he eagerly explains, all bright eyes and enviable posture and such, "I took a class at UCLA in Judging For Reality TV Shows, so I'm totally ready to give feedback that's both blistering and unhelpful!" "It was a really good class," he cheerily adds. "I learned a lot!" With that, he calls for the first "contestant," and it's Santana Lopez, there to perform Amy Winehouse's "Back To Black," with Tinkles, the ever-mute McKinley Jazz Ensemble, and a couple of strings backing her up. Jesse immediately starts scribbling on his legal pad while Santana takes control of the stage, and while her vocal quality isn't as -- how shall I put this? -- sulfurous as Miss Winehouse's, that's likely because Santana hasn't spent the last five years of her life with a crack pipe stuck to her lips. You know, for example. Still, Santana's version is smoking hot, so my deep and abiding crush for her emerges from this experience not only intact, but perhaps enhanced.

And when it's over, Mr. Schue immediately gives her a round of applause while assuring her it was all "fantastic." Jesse, meanwhile, leans in to his microphone and intones, "Thanks so much for coming in," before settling back in his seat with a definite sense of finality. "That's all you have to say?" Santana splutters, incredulous. "You spent the entire performance scribbling notes!" Mr. Schue glances down at Jesse's legal pad, upon which Jesse has drawn a rather large kitty with kicky little bangs and a lustrous set of eyelashes. "If you simply must know," Jesse allows, "I was writing down that I don't think that your performance went very deep into the emotional truth of the song." Hee. Santana threatens to go "all Lima Heights" on Jesse St. James's ass, but she ends up stomping off into the wings in a fury while Eddie Munster wafts in from the other side of the stage. A few of the backing musicians switch around as Kurt hits his mark to announce he'll be singing "Some People" from Gypsy, and if he's not going to belt it the way it's meant to be belted, I don't want to hear it, so: