Glee
Thanksgiving

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In Which We Give Thanks That New Rachel Is Dead

...The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, where a teeming throng of holiday Sectionals-goers has already seated itself for the festivities to come. First, though, we must put our hands together for tonight's distinguished panel of judges: The Lima News obituary editor, Stan Cook; chief historian of The Lima Locomotive Museum, Harrison Carlucci; and the 2012 Defiance County Catfish Queen, Allison Metcalf. Wait a minute. That's it? An obits editor, a train enthusiast, and a minor-pageant beauty queen? They're so not even trying anymore. Hell, even that bloated cokehead was better than this.

ANY-way, once those tiresome introductions are done, Ernst Blofeld suddenly appears center stage to introduce The Swallows, and let the fun begin! Or not, as the case may be, which it most definitely is here. And why is that, I'm sure I hear you ask? Because The Swallows proceed to sing one absolutely appalling committee-penned piece of pop crap about blowjobs and another absolutely horrific piece of prepackaged boyband shit about one-night stands, with neither performance evincing any sort of charm or wit. AT ALL. If you must know, Ernst Blofeld takes the lead vocals on the first while Sebastian The Predatory Homosexual does the same on the second, and the choreography at times is fun to watch, but the music itself? I WILL KILL EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU MAKE ME LISTEN TO ANY OF IT EVER AGAIN.

GOD, I hate this show.

And when it's over, the Sectionals audience cheers because that's what all those extras were paid to do, and New Puck squeezes Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel's hand as Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel prepares to yack up that dinnertime Tic Tac right into the next commercial break.

My Ancestral Homeland. The Horrible Hooker Of Broadway waxes nostalgic for Thanksgivings past while St. Gay Of Lima offers her his best expression of concern and understanding, and then three thousand drag queens show up at their front door because Sarah Jessica Parker told them there'd be this amazing party with free food over in Brooklyn. No, seriously. Needless to say, St. Gay is quite perplexed, and he seems more than ready to throw a hyperventilating hissy when Sarah Jessica Parker buzzes his cell from the Montrose Avenue subway station -- in East Williamsburg, but who's checking? -- to kick-start an embarrassingly fun cover of The Scissor Sisters' "Let's Have A Kiki" that leaps into high gear the instant Sarah Jessica Parker crosses the apartment threshold. I must note that Sarah Jessica Parker's $6200 Oscar de la Renta is staggering, and while I feel I should recognize more of the various drag queens and hangers-on now littering The Improbably Bohemian Bushwick Loft, the only two I can actually call out by name are Shangela and Ryan Heffington. Go figure.

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