And to add musical insult to Will's Sue-sponsored injury, "Loser" kicks in again on the soundtrack as we cut ahead to the music room, where Will watches impotently as Sue's drafting class flunkies wheel that mammoth, skyscraping trophy into the custom-built, bulletproof case they constructed in the last three seconds, and I must admit, the display looks fabulous. Sucks to be you, bonehead!
McKinley High Auditorium, the following Friday, 3 PM sharp. Jesse St. James and The Adrenalines patiently and politely wait in the center section of seats until Rachel greets them with the following: "After your brazen escalation of our growing dispute -- which we were willing to put to rest -- we decided the only way to truly funkify you is to show you the one thing we know you can't do, so enjoy!" As the camera's risen on Rachel from somewhere deep in the orchestra pit, it's gradually revealed a rather psychedelic backdrop behind her, upon which the backlit silhouettes of various Glee Clubbers can be seen. No sooner has Rachel taken her place amongst them than Kurt peels around the corner to thrust himself upon the opening lines of Parliament's "Give Up The Funk," and sure, he sounds ridiculous chanting "Tear the roof off the mother sucker," but what's more important at the moment is the fact that he looks ridiculous. Appropriately ridiculous, I should probably stress, because the costume designer's thrown him into precisely the sort of wrongheaded clothing and accessories an isolated teenaged gay boy from Lima, Ohio, would choose for himself should he wish to appear funkadelic in public, right down to that hideously bedazzled porkpie hat he's got on his head. Bravo. As for the number itself? Well, it's a bunch of suburban Midwestern teenagers covering Parliament for their show choir. It sucks.