An analogy: Glee is like a box of chocolates. A box of chocolates you find sitting unattended at a bus station, and which you open because you have low blood sugar and a totally unfounded faith in humanity. And with each bite you wonder: will this be filled with razor blades, planted by someone who apparently wants to punish chocolate lovers? Will it be stuffed with so much beauty and heart and truth that it makes you cry with its sweetness? Or is it perhaps laced with LSD, which will cause you to hallucinate puppet versions of your friends, pirouetting madly to old school Janet Jackson? This week’s episode of Glee was that last kind of chocolate: sure it was a cold-blooded attempt to move singles on iTunes, held together by only the thinnest of narrative threads, but at least it wasn’t strawberry cream.
If this is your path to redemption, Glee, you’re off to a good start.
We sorted every (magical) lesbian/bi TV character in the history of the world into Hogwarts houses because we love you.
Now that’s an entrance.