"What if there was this gay serial rapist who accidentally fell in like with his best friend's girlfriend, who was kind of his best actual friend, because they were kind of rapists together, and they got together in the seamiest, creepiest way...but you were cheering them on the whole time, and kind of got teary when they sealed the deal, even though it was presented in weird '90s Nine Inch Nails jumpcuts played against weird '00s emo-punk-rock crap? Like their creepiness cancels each other out and it's kind of...sweet? Like, 'Way to lose your virginity to the gay best friend of your shitty boyfriend'?"
"That would be interesting."
"Okay, so what if this girl, let's call her B, did it because her boyfriend was kinda gay and kinda into her own BFF, so it was like karmic justice?"
"I would root for that, constant rape be damned. Karma, man."
"And so what if plus, everybody had dirt on their dads, but had to fake it for some reason, and maybe Nate's dad got put in jail for hitting Nate, and for being a cokehead, and for being a creepy embezzler, thus endangering their arranged marriage?"
"I guess I would get all slutty with the gay best friend too. Although I love Nate every week and he's actually kinda great this week."
"Um, sure. Right, so especially if the rapey guy made friends with Lily van der Woodsen, the best character of the whole show, and then what if she acted like finding a 16-year-old gay rapist dude drunk in the gutter outside the Palace Hotel at 2 PM was like, totally awesome, because at least now she has a friend, finally."
"Even if he looked like a wax model of the Jerry Maguire kid's head?"
"...Whatever, I'm not your therapist. So meanwhile, this is catalyzed by the young innocent girl who's being slowly tempted into sedition, while her older brother -- who is also being tempted into sedition -- is getting freaky with his girlfriend, who is aforementioned B's best friend who got screwed over in the first place?"
"Why you gotta go and make things so complicated? I just want to see Penn Badgley with his shirt off. You had me at 'Lonelyboy gets freaky.' Don't care how, don't care who. I don't really think you have to try that hard, dude."
"But it's like very romantic, S and Lonelyboy. Candles. And also their parents are very romantic, because they are adorable. Plus true love, and Vanessa Abrams feeling like raw shit but being actual cool instead of 'tell me I'm cool' cool."
"Fuckin'...stop talking about...parents and this shit, whatever whatever, Vanessa Abrams kills all boners and buzzes, I don't care, shut up and start talking about Penn Badgley, shirtless. Are we talking about the whole episode, or...?"
"A lifetime's worth of episode is how shirtless he is this week."
"Cut and print. The strike can suck it. America needs this."
None of this cutesy whimsical gossip today, no. Today we're bookended by total NIN crackly pics like back in the early '90s when it was simultaneously the '80s and Lily and Rufus were living their very complicated time-traveling lives and appealing to multiple generations with their lunchbox purses and whatever, it's quaint. So quaint are the sexy ladies bumping and grinding on the screen, in fact, that I'm reminded less of Reznor and more of Manson. Marilyn Manson, to be exact, whose stupid ex-girlfriend decided a few years ago that it simply had been too long since burlesque shows last annoyed us. Now, you know I love this show and God knows I desperately want Gossip Girl's approval, but burlesque is one of those things about which we're going to have to agree to disagree.
"Have you heard, Upper East Siders? Burlesque is all the rage again!" Really? Does that mean we're going to be dealing with fucking swing dancing again next week? I cannot deal with that reality. "And sometimes a little raging is exactly what you need," GG continues, and I can't disagree, but I fail to see the connection, unless the "rage" you're talking about is the rage you feel when you realize you've been sold a bunch of crap as far as what is and is not sexy, and found yourself acting like an idiot in public. You know what broke burlesque? The Pussycat Dolls. And not when your girlfriend was a freak like them, but way before, when it was all the Hollywood abuse survivors like Xtina and Carmen Electra being like, "I am no longer defined by my sexuality! Look at my breasts! My sexuality is a beautiful flower! Its petals unfold in your face!" It went from being just kind of sad to being super-creepy, and it never came back. You don't stop being objectified just because you've decided to do the objectifying yourself, and the difference between burlesque and balls-out raw-ass stripping is the same imaginary difference that says Blair can go down on Nate from now until graduation and still stay a virgin: it's missing the point entirely.
Cue Chuck gaping creepily and GG talking about how he's always "ahead of the curves." Which is, you see, a double entendre, because he wants to have sex with you, with or without your consent, but also because GG has apparently just discovered the concept of burlesque, which in reality has existed as long as ugly girls have desperately needed attention. Some drag queen is all, "¿Quién es esa niña?" And Chuck can't take his eyes off one girl in particular, whose bewitching twitching has captured his heart and his pants: "I have no idea."