Episode Report Card
Demian: A | 1 USERS: A+
It's Madge's World. We Just Lip-Synch To It.

Music Room. Mr. Schue's scrawled "MADONNA" on the whiteboard, and now asks the assembled gang what comes to mind when they see her name. Rachel: "Genius!" Kurt: "Icon!" Puck: "Hall-Of-Fame MILF!" Atta boy. Mr. Schue is pleased that everyone seems aware of Madonna's "musical and cultural significance," and announces that this week's assignment is a -- wait for it -- Madonna number. The Glee Gals plus Kurt are way stoked, but the heterosexual males in the room? Not so much. "As a dude?" Puck notes. "Madonna makes me kind of uncomfortable." "Yeah, she's smokin'," Finn agrees, "but can't some of us do something else? Like, the guy version of Madonna?" And who, I hear you ask, is the guy version of Madonna? Well, if you're asking these idiots, it's Pantera. Mr. Schue chides the dudes for this horrible display of abject Madonnaphobia, and notes that it's come to his attention that certain of The Glee Guys haven't been treating the young ladies of the group very nicely as of late. "You're disrespectful," Mr. Schue somewhat self-righteously accuses them, "bullying, sexist, and -- I hate to say it -- misogynistic." Finn goes all deer-in-the-headlights. "I have no idea what that means." "When I pulled my hamstring?" Brittany helpfully offers. "I went to a misogynist?" Heh. Mr. Schue shakes that one off in favor of ordering the heterosexual males in the room to put themselves in the ladies' shoes for a change, and he then proceeds to affix his lips to Madonna's unreasonably taut fiftysomething derriere to blather something about The Big M's legacy "transcending" her music because "the subtext of her songs is about being strong and independent and confident, no matter what your sex." "But more than anything," he finishes, "Madonna's musical message is about equality, and that is something I think you guys need to work on." The Glee Gals (plus Kurt) have been vigorously nodding their heads during all of this contractually obliged ass-kissing, but The Glee Guys (minus Kurt) still look spooked. Kurt, spritely little homosexual that he is, waves his hand around in the air to insist -- correctly -- that any "honest conversation about Ms. Ciccone" must include an analysis of her images, which Kurt deems "as indelible as her songs" -- again, right on target, there -- so he volunteers to "tackle a multimedia project." "With Mercedes," he adds, much to Mercedes's delight.

"Puckzilla," on the other hand, continues to balk, going so far as to dispute the very idea that Madonna's music "translates to show choir." Rachel hastens to differ and, after whispering a quick set of instructions into The McKinley Jazz Ensemble's ears -- oh, right: They've apparently been standing off to the side this entire time -- she takes to the floor to call out, "Come on, girls! Do you believe in love? 'Cause I got something to say about it, and it goes something like this!" And if you don't immediately have this song running through your head after that intro, you're either too young and ill-educated for me to bother with, or you shouldn't be watching this goddamned show in the first place. After Rachel drags The Glee Gals onto the floor with her, the number quickly leaps over to the McKinley auditorium stage, where each of the ladies magically appears in her own approximation of Madonna's bustier-under-suit-jacket outfit to perform an approximation of this routine from the 1990 Blond Ambition Tour. You know, without the half-naked men. It's a straightforward cover of the live version, so if you saw that tour (on HBO, on Sunday night, August 5, 1990, because the frigging tickets sold out for every single frigging arena worldwide five frigging minutes after they went on sale, not that I'm bitter about it) you're not seeing anything new here. Out in the auditorium proper, The Glee Guys (minus Kurt, of course) couldn't possibly be more bored, but screw them, because Brittany is just killing the choreography here, and we head into the first commercial break wondering how any of those breeder hosebags ever managed to get a date in the first place.

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