Glee: Season 3, Episode 2

I can show you the woooorld. Shining, shimmering, shooowww choir. When will you let your voice decide? A WHOLE NEW GLEEEEEEE!

Um, I think that is copyrighted, and by the way you’re mixing the words up. Stop ruining my childhood is what I’m saying.

SsshhhYOU shut up now.

Let’s put down the knife and get back to writing the next episode of Glee, alright?

If you say so.

I’m trying out some Brittany stuff along the lines of, “Unicorns poop cotton candy, and black unicorns become zebras.” Sounds gold to me.

Is that racist?

Don’t you start with me.

Once again, and I realize we use this conceit all the time, but should there be any music in this show? Just sayin. Realistically, though, should there be more than three songs, and if so should those not come towards the end? People obviously tune in for our crafty writing, not the jazzy singing.

Well, I like where you going with that, but…maybe we can just get away with like, two commercial breaks without any music?

I once had a friend who went ironically rabbit hunting with another friend, you know, just to do it. These friends are homosexuals. Well anyway, he put on his bestest outdoorsman attire and went shooting. Long story short, murdering an innocent rabbit, skinning it, and later eating it isn’t what he would call a lovely memory.

So what you’re saying is Kurt should bedazzle a hunting cardigan?


Speaking of, should there be lots of absurd prints this episode? Absurd in the sense that not one of our characters (ok, maybe Artie and Kurt) would be capable, much less interested in coordinating such a variety of fabrics.

Shut up! I’m trying to think of an unfunny joke involving Beiste and a Shakespearean play.

Alright, so then let’s insert an obvious homage to Requiem for a Dream involving coffee for no apparent reason. I mean I’m not even sure I’ve seen that movie.

Great, and then let’s bring back Idina Menzel! I think she might actually be Lea Michelle’s mom. Or at least fairy godmother.

Qualified, critically-acclaimed, fan-addicted actress…? Hmm, I mean, if you say so. But then how will doing that ruin this show? Because let’s be clear, that is our goal as writers.

Don’t worry, we’ll pull through.

Did we basically make Jane Lynch’s career?

That wasn’t a question, was it?


More importantly, what will we do when we run out of track suit color combinations? Murder her? Murder her and bury the body. Yes. Always obviously default to that.

You are disturbed.

Do you not write for Glee too?

Oh right.

[Ryan Murphy walks into the writers room.] OK, everyone. I’m super excited with the way these rewrites are going, but I  just want to make one thing clear about this season: 1)  let’s keep the musical numbers going, B) let’s please eliminate more people of color, and J) can you remind me where I parked? [Ryan Murphy exits.]


Glad that’s over.

Sometimes I just think that, I dunno, we use Brittany’s non sequiturs like we have no choice. It’s like we must cram in as many as possible — which by the way I think are still great — that she has to literally mumble them as fast as possible.

Shut your mouth…unicorns!

Just checking but, does it make sense for characters to say things like, “Are you even in Glee anymore?” Like “Glee” is the title of something that the characters in our universe would readily refer to. Because it’s not, we realize? It’s called “New Directions,” or at least “the glee club.” It makes no sense to just directly name-drop the title of our show, right?

I see your lips moving, but all I hear is “unremarkable, unrecognizable broadway song!”

We’re halfway there.

Hold my hand, and I’ll take you there.

Somehow, someday, somewhere…

I definitely think we should incorporate some kind of Will Schuester extravagantly out of character angry speech in front of Sue that would totally get her juices flowing if she weren’t so obviously a lezzy.

Did you know Naploeon wasn’t just an ice cream?

Did I tell you about the dream I had last night? It was objectively known that I was pregnant in it. The dream somehow transpired over what must have been weeks but could surely could have been months. I remember feeling towards the end that I was very pregnant…that I was sure to give birth soon. It was sort of hard to walk. Concurrent with this feeling was some sort of unexplained, possibly fantastical environmental disaster that involved at least the earth crumbling beneath us. I recall being helicoptered out of the area on the eve of my labor. I also remember a college rival giving some sort of celebratory speech in an amphitheater, and I was scheduled so do something similar in a neighboring venue. Not only did almost no one attend, I was also nearly incapacitated by my pregnancy; it left me hobbling around sad (though for some reason, I enjoyed that sadness). After the helicopter rescue, but before I went into labor (the dream ended before the baby actually appeared), I had a sobbing revelation that I wanted to give the baby up for adoption, and I was delighted when my husband was in agreement. I guess what I’m saying is that while children aren’t for me, I appreciate their merit and am OK with others having them, even at my expense.

So we should grow Puck’s hair out, like way too much to be sexy anymore?


You make me sad. Shall we get back to the writing? Hmm, well naturally we should do another hardly known broadway song. I think Chris Colfer knows how to use sais, so we should incorporate that somehow.

Should we tone down Emma’s pamphlets? I mean, they really aren’t so funny.

[Ryan Murphy bursts through the window, showering the writers with glass.] And by the transitive property of comedy writing, WE ARENT FUNNY? How dare you! More pamphlets. I demand more pamphlets! And more gay. This show is not gay enough! [Ryan Murphy disappears in a poof of magenta sparkles, the scent of a lime blossom, and a crackle of upside-down lightning.]

I mean, I do think that we shouldn’t compromise our most influential and rare-for-broadcast-television character Kurt by suddenly deciding he would forgo his true self with a sexist masculine persona…you know, just to get into a musical.

Yes, I agree? We should have him highlight how sexist and unfair the structure of the system is in of itself?


Gurl, if I were the committee, we’d be a shoe-in.

You aren’t?

Are you calling me fat?

[The disembodied spirit of Ryan Murphy possess the chalkboard and begins to spell something out.] LESS MUSIC MORE PATHETIC DIALOGUE [The chalk explodes, blinding most of the writers. Dominos arrives with their Cinnastix.]

Nom nom nom. Ugh, I suppose we should wrong our previous rights, and just go ahead and have the token macho straight father character pretend to have an understanding of his queer son by throwing in a lovely, “You’re gay, and you’re not like Rock Hudson gay. You dress like Diana Ross, and you act like you own a magic chocolate factory.”

I mean, it’s like you read my mind. First of all, yes we should make sure it’s clear there are men on this show who are not gay or probably gay. Good thing we had the foresight to set his character  in a car repair shop, because obviously such a place could never harbor a ‘mo. We’ve established that he loves his faggalicious son, so it’s OK to let him go off on these homophobic tangents, because, you know, it comes from a place of love.

It does?

Do you know love?

I can show you the world!


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