"You, listen to me, okay? I hate collaborating, all right? I hate it. I am an artist and a storyteller and this is my vision, and no one is going to get in my way. If you want a hit, then be quiet and I will give you one and afterwards you can say thank you." And from sea to shining sea, Aaron Sorkin and Dan Harmon and Matthew Weiner and Kurt Sutter and every other egotistical control-freak genius perks up his ears and the rest of us bow down to Saint Rebeck and thank her for this gleaming gem of creative vision she has bestowed upon us, we, the unworthy. Yeah, that Gretchen Wilson number was a real feat of vision and storytelling.

And Sam finally shows up! God, he's adorable. Tom asks Sam to remind him why they do this insane shit again. Sam, who is a magical angel made of tap shoes and ticker-tape parade confetti (go Rangers), tells Tom that it's art, and it's beautiful and joyful. Well, when it isn't ripping your guts out, sure.

Jerry has reappeared, without his inflatable girlfriend this time. He asks Eileen if she's really putting the understudy into a show with no ending. Eileen says Karen's very good and the ending is being fixed, as she's pouring herself a glass of neat whiskey (ha!). Jerry asks how much Eileen has invested, and if she's using their daughter's money. Eileen says she doesn't use Meryl Streep's, er, their daughter as a weapon, unlike some people she could name, and he asks why she doesn't let him help her. Eileen tells him to go away.

Tom is trying out some gospel orchestrations, which Julia shoots down. They argue and Julia asks him to just make it simple. And then she reflects some more on Karen and Karen's inability to, you know, be Ivy. "It's such a good musical," she moans. Oh sure, Julia. Keep telling yourself that. She blurts, "I'm not feeling well" and rushes out of the frame.