Oh, and there's no way in hell I'm spending any more time on this stupidity than I absolutely have to, so: Long story short, Bloaty The Gravy Clown admits he shoved his tongue down Miss Pillsbury's throat a month ago, and instead of behaving like the thirty-seven-year-old adult he's supposed to be, Mr. Schue gets his panties in a tremendous wad and stomps off down the hall in a teary-eyed rage. Someone needs to whack both of these dolts across the face with a tire iron. Or maybe a sock filled with batteries. Whichever -- I'm not choosy.
So, you remember how Artie babbled some nonsense about his inaugural "micro-budget feature" about a thousand years ago when this episode was still fresh and new? And you remember how I told you to forget about it because that particular subplot would never be mentioned again this evening? I lied. Tonight's final number apparently represents the fruits of Auteur Artie's micro-budgeted labor, and if Auteur Artie spent more than $2.74 on this crap, he spent too much, because it's nothing more than a straight cover of the infamously awful "Footloose" from the infamously awful film(s) of the same name, as performed by the black-clad children of The New New Directions with solos from Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen and Auteur Artie himself. Sure, there are a couple of cute bits involving the kids playing around up in the flies -- cutest of all being those bits with New Finn -- and yeah, there's one stretch where they sort of half-assedly recreate the leg thing from The Will Rogers Follies, but for the most part, it's just the children bopping around on the stage for two and a half minutes, and I'm sorry, but that shit will not cut it when the music's this bad. Who did Kenny Loggins blow to get two songs into tonight's episode?
Next week: Mr. Schue continues to act like the responsible adult he is, except for the part where he totally doesn't do that at all. It's going to be hateful. Have fun!
Demian's been snowbound with a bunch of musical theater queens on several occasions, and that shit gets real ugly, real fast. You may reach him at email@example.com.