Last night’s return drew its biggest crowd ever, but why did we bother? Instead of offering us a few new twists and turns, we’ve got Rachel mooning over Finn (again), Mr. Schuester and his sweetheart separated by the fates (again), and Sue Sylvester doing her same old “I’ll get you, my little pretty!” routine — you know, the one that was funny the first 12 times she did it, but just gets less amusing with repetition? Don’t waste Jane Lynch like this, that woman could make the text on the side of a cereal box funny.

And speaking of repetition, what was the cliffhanger from the first part of season? Oh yeah, the glee club will disappear if they don’t win sectionals. And now? The glee club will disappear if they don’t win regionals.

The only new plot twist with any flair — Rachel’s new love interest, the similarly narcissist star of rival choir “Vocal Adrenaline” — was deflated when we found out that he’s only playing her. Yes, just another eeeevil character to make this show even more flat and cartoonish.

Basically, “Glee” has become an elaborate set-up for the fantastic songs they can now get rights for, thanks to the bump in sales those artists probably experience from the show. But instead of just bursting into song like they used to, the characters tell us what they’re about to sing. Or Will Schuester announces a clunky theme (“Let’s all sing songs with the word ‘hello’ in them!”). Even after this awkward choice, we still get Will and Finn walking into the auditorium where a band is waiting. 

Will: I want you to meet the new improved Finn Hudson, by singin’ about it.

Finn: Oh, that’s why the band’s here!

Will: Yeah! So just pick a song and they’re ready to back you up. 

Finn: Well, I like what you said about me being like Morrison! And The Doors have a “Hello” song, so maybe I could find myself and do my glee assignment at the same time!

Sweet god, what is this, Sesame Street? Then Finn breaks into a growly, awful version of  ”Hello, I Love You,” possibly the worst Doors cover ever performed — and that’s saying a lot.

 Even “Vocal Adrenaline’s” performance, usually good for a laugh, is ruined by too many quick camera cuts — to a hand! to an ankle! — that make it impossible to appreciate the frantic choreography.

Then there’s Rachel, who’s been doing the same flinchy, bent-knee, I’m-in-pain dance for every song since the show began. Why do they continue to dress her like a 4-year-old? How can we rally behind a heroine who dresses like that, who gestures like that? Who would’ve ever thought that a version of The Beatles’ “Hello Goodbye” could be so underwhelming and so… mournful?

Even Sue Sylvester’s parody of Madonna’s “Vogue” only had one or two amusing moments to it, the rest wasn’t a parody so much as an inferior copy. 

This show needs a shot in the arm. New stories beyond “You’re going down, Will Schuester!” and “Glee club is finished!” and Rachel cringing and weeping in tiny plaid jumpers. New styles of choreography and staging — I mean, my God, you have the entire pop catalogue at your disposal! The possibilities are limitless! Hire some really talented, creative person, from Broadway or from Lady Gaga’s staff, someone with a little vision who’ll stir things up and stop giving us the same performance and hitting the same “See how full of longing I am?” note with a hammer, over and over again. Hell, I bet there are a few show choir directors who could turn this show around. 

In the meantime, here’s hoping next week’s Madonna episode, which is great according to rumors, will liven things up around here. We’re all rooting for you, “Glee,” but you’ve got to stop phoning it in if you’re going to keep these big crowds around for much longer.

Subtle parents, subtle teachers, subtle businesspeople, subtle leaders are passed over daily in search of something brighter and shinier and more full of obvious, ham-handed promise. We have grown into an insecure nation filled with jittery souls who seek the big, showy reassurances of corporate and commercial entities full of win-win scenarios. We don’t want to weight costs against benefits with smart, balanced adults. We think the word “compromise” means we’ll have to give up some of our toys. We are impatient children who want Disney princesses as mommies, Iron Man as daddies, and Barney the Dinosaur in the White House.

Son goes down

FX’s “Sons of Anarchy“ could never really be described as nuanced or sly, but it was still difficult not to hold out hope that, in the show’s second season finale, we might see all of these warring criminal factions clash in some interesting new way. Instead, we have Agent Stahl (Ally Walker) as the root of all evil yet again (Hello, first season finale), Gemma (Katey Sagal) as the half-baked avenger, and one big, flashy season-ending twist.

But then, what do you expect from the show that saw our hero Jax (Charlie Hunnam) making sweet love to his doctor girlfriend Tara (Maggie Siff) minutes after killing her stalker in cold blood, the man’s still-warm body lying a few feet from where they did the deed?

This season’s finale looked interesting enough at first. Agent Stahl impulsively shoots Eddie (Callard Harris) in the back as he’s trying to escape her. Oops. Then she sits in the house wondering how to clean up the mess. In walks Polly Zobelle (Sarah Jones), Eddie’s girlfriend and the woman who lured Gemma into the van so she could be gang-raped by her father’s thugs. Polly finds Eddie dead. Gemma,who followed Polly there, walks in and shoots her. Stahl comes out from hiding, tosses Gemma the gun that killed Eddie so she can pin Gemma with both murders. She tells Gemma she’d give her a little time to make a run for it.

Cameron (Jamie McShane) hears that his son Eddie has been murdered by Gemma. He shows up at the house and finds Tara and Half Sack (Johnny Lewis), who were looking for Gemma. He takes a knife and threatens to kill Abel, Jax’s baby son, to avenge his son’s death at Gemma’s hands. Half Sack makes a move to save the baby, and Cameron stabs him in the chest as Tara looks on sobbing.

Cameron dashes out of the house with Abel. Shoves the baby in the car. Tara phones Jax. Jax and the rest of the gang have Ethan Zobelle (Adam Arkin), the root of all evil, cornered at last, and he’s no longer surrounded by schoolchildren. But instead of walking right in and blowing him away, then hopping on their motorcycles, they all ride off. Couldn’t one or two guys stay and finish him off? These guys aren’t exactly stealthy about their criminal acts, after all. But no, they all shake their heads then ride off in pursuit of Cameron and Abel. Jax dashes toward the docks where Cameron’s boat was tied, but it’s too late! Cameron is speeding away with Jax’s baby boy! Jax collapses in a heap as Clay tries to hold him up. Get it? Fathers and sons, people! Sons! Get it?!!

See how subtlety separates good shows from bad ones? “Sons of Anarchy” is frustrating, because it’s almost a really good show. Great acting, smart dialogue, great cinematography. But then someone decides they’ll threaten to stab a baby. On “the Sopranos,” all you need is a crushed baby car seat in the backseat of an SUV to demonstrate what a reckless asshole Christopher is. On “The Shield” it would push it a little further, with Vic Mackey’s wife and child being locked in a storage container to keep them out of harm’s way (although of course it doesn’t look that way to Mackey).

But “Sons of Anarchy” makes no attempt at subtlety. While you might suspect that Kurt Sutter and his writers are crafty enough to pull it off, they instead opt for dazzling showdowns, gratuitous bloody fights, and half-crazed mourning daddies pulling knives on little babies. Of course, then there’s the fact that the members of the Sons travel through town with AK-47s strapped to their backs like extras in a “Terminator” movie, then line up on the main drag downtown and glare at the Mayans across the street while the cops look on. What is this, a post-apocalyptic Roger Corman flick?

The baby-stealing is bad, though. This means that, what, we’re going to worry about the welfare of a 6-month-old for the first half of the show’s third season? We’re going to see Tara and Jax torn apart by guilt and depression? This is the sort of senseless sensationalism that just makes shows crappy. It’s the medical helicopter that crashes right on top of Romano on the season finale of “ER.” This is the very definition of the shark jump, an act that points that a show’s writers no longer have a sense of how to keep things interesting without turning the show into a live Vegas act where characters stab each other with butcher knives and bite the heads off chickens and eat them. This show has so much potential, but it was born to jump sharks — they are all on motorcycles, after all. Even Fonzie himself, with his comb-slicked hair and his leather jacket, is more subtle than the Sons.

Children of the cornball

“Glee” (9 p.m. Wednesdays on Fox) is another show that has stumbled since its premiere. The wit and nastiness are still there, but we’re increasingly drawn into extended musical numbers with all of the charms of … well, actual show choir performances. This makes watching “Glee” a lot like tolerating the company of a gaggle of self-adoring showoff high school kids, kids who sing “Poker Face” at the top of their lungs and speak in one or two-word phrases like “Hellooo?” and “Really?” and “Done that.” And … you know. Done that.

Let’s be honest. As great as Rachel (Lea Michele) is in many ways, she’s becoming a problem. She performs a solo at least once every other episode, and, well, it’s not entirely enjoyable to watch her croon tunes like “On My Own” from “Les Miserables” and “Don’t Rain on My Parade” from “Funny Girl” and “Taking Chances” by Celine Dion while the cameras circle her face, over and over, for dramatic effect. What’s worse, though, is seeing Will Schuster (Matthew Morrison) sing constantly. Morrison is perfect for the role of glee club director, but his performances always seem to devolve into boy band yuckiness: the hunchy shoulders, the little snapping fingers, the funky white boy shuffling feet. And last week, in place of interesting choreography, we watched the entire glee club don blue pajamas and bounce up and down on mattresses while singing a disturbingly chirpy version of Van Halen’s “Jump.” I’m sure that’s enjoyable to some attic full of shrooming misfits somewhere who tuned in by accident, but to me, these numbers are getting more and more literal and less artful each week.

And the sound mix on “Glee” is pure immaculately conceived pop fakeness: Artificially tuned notes, a sterilized, vacuumy sonic landscape, perfectly blended vocal parts. Why not give us a little bit of grunge and grime and noise, so we can appreciate these voices? One thing that true show choir fans love is the earnest sound of teenage voices, blending together in that fragile, sweet way, warbling and echoing out into a big auditorium. But there’s no organic echo on “Glee,” no warbling, nothing that feels heartfelt or the least bit wobbly. With all of the post-production sterilization here, these kids sound more like Kraftwerk.

And try this on for Not Remotely Subtle: Rachel develops an unexpected crush on Mr. Schuster, then, in order to explain that he’s not into her, Mr. Schuster sings a neutered version of the Police’s “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” mashed together with “Young Girl.” The results truly stretch the limits of achingly bad televised musical numbers, pulling a close victory over that almost-as-ludicrous and deeply dorky rendition of Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach” by Quinn Fabray (Dianna Agron).

The dialogue, although mostly clever, occasionally veers into the same obvious territory. Take this really bad exchange between Finn (Cory Monteith) and Kurt (Chris Colfer) about Finn’s plan to tell Quinn’s parents that she’s pregnant with his baby.

Finn: My father was brave enough to fight in some desert thousands of miles away, and I can’t even go over to Dudley Road and tell the Fabrays the truth.

Kurt: Your father didn’t charge into the breach empty-handed, he had a weapon.

Finn: You think I should bring a gun?

Kurt: No, I think you should use your greatest weapon: Your voice.

No, please, bring a gun instead. We need it.

Of course, 13-year-olds still seem to love this show, as I would if I were 13 years old and had as much use for subtlety as I had for kale or long-winded historical novels. In fact, you know what one of my favorite songs was when I was 13 years old? “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” by the Police.

So I suppose “Glee” successfully caters to its teenage demographic. Personally, though, I say: Make some odd musical choices, experiment with a more organic, noisy sound, throw in some cool choreography beyond jazz hands and ass shaking, and give Sue Sylvester (Jane Lynch) something a little more substantive as a motive than “taking down the Glee Club.” Artistically, this show is capable of becoming truly great. It might mean lengthening its production schedule so that more complicated numbers can be integrated into each show, but imagine how much brilliance could be packed into an hour, if the show’s producers cast aside the bubble gum pop and predictable oldies for a few more eclectic choices? No need to pull a knife on the baby over and over again. You have our attention, you have the ratings. Now it’s time to get a little weird. 

Yes, I know. This is Fox we’re talking about, not the local arts council run by a colorful lady named Gretta with a penchant for George Bernard Shaw and Gilbert and Sullivan’s back catalog (not that they were considered all that subtle in their own day). Still, in a world ruled by hearsay, cellphone footage and blaring headlines in 50 point, hot pink font, it’s hard not to long for a little restraint.

The life of the party this fall is ABC’s “Modern Family.” In a sea of attractive and witty guests, spewing quips and tossing back drinks, “Modern Family” (9 p.m. Wednesdays on ABC) is that unnervingly funny guy in the corner whose jokes keep making your mojito blast out of your nose. I’ve been waiting for this show to falter or underwhelm for weeks now, and each episode has been better than the last. Ty Burrell is consistently hysterical as hapless, pandering dad Phil. Here he is in one of my favorite scenes from the pilot:

Along with Burrell, Manny (Rico Rodriguez) — that’s Jay’s (Ed O’Neill) kid — is an unexpectedly hilarious character (loved the scene where he stroked his fake goatee when considering avenging the kids that drew it on his face), and every episode ends on just the right note. Yes, we saw it coming when Phil’s teenage daughter’s boyfriend, Dylan (Reid Ewing), sang a sweet love song that turned raunchy. But how great was that song? And then ending with the whole family, humming “I just wanna do you, do you” to themselves as they brushed their teeth or got ready for school? Brilliant. I love the dramatic choices by the excellent writers of this show, I love the little touches thrown in by this incredible cast (Eric Stonestreet as chubby, earnest Cameron makes me laugh out loud every single time he’s on-screen), and really, I’m just in awe of “Modern Family.” If you’re not watching this show, you’re nuts.

All of which stands in sharp contrast with another ABC show that I chose as one of the best new shows of the fall. If only I’d had a “FlashForward” to how mediocre this serial drama would become, I would’ve stopped watching weeks ago. From the lead character, Mark Benford (Joseph Fiennes), to his doctor wife Olivia (Sonja Walger) to his partner Demetri Noh (John Cho), this show is crowded with flat characters, and the story transformed from an eerie big bang of a pilot into a big sopping mess of nothingness in a few short (but seemingly endless) episodes.

It’s astonishing to me that ABC could compare this show to “Lost” and then do so little to develop its characters over the first few weeks. What stands in for real character traits, back story and nuanced flaws on “FlashForward” (8 p.m. Thursdays) are cartoonish details like “He has a drinking problem” (Mark) and “She’s a dedicated doctor, mother and wife” (Olivia). My favorite, though, is Demetri, who is somehow interesting because he’s in love with his fiancée and he’s going to die soon. He and his lady Zoey (Gabrielle Union) spend their time smiling sweetly at each other, which tells us zero about them, while Demetri tries not to harsh Zoey’s premarital bliss with the nasty omens that he’ll soon be dead.

Oh, and by the way? “He’ll soon be dead!” isn’t character development either, nor is it a hefty foreshadowing element when you don’t know who Demetri is in the first place. Aaron (Brian F. O’Byrne) is still gloomily worrying about his daughter (whom we also know nothing about), Olivia’s doctor friend Bryce (Zachary Knighton) has a new lease on life, but we don’t completely understand why he was suicidal in the first place, and Nicole (Peyton List) is depressed about her vision of being drowned, but secretly, we can’t wait until she’s attacked because all she does now is wander around like a sullen model badly in need of a psychotropic intervention.

This is the trouble with pilots that have a powerfully creepy premise — what if everyone on Earth blacked out at the same time, and had a vision of the future? — along with lots of conflict and panic and exploding stuff in the first episode. All of the real drama is frontloaded, and then the rest of the series feels like slow-motion denouement. Unless the writers happen to have a really smart story to tell — and, let’s face it, writers who create an entire show around a premise this flashy aren’t typically all that fond of subtlety or character development — the whole thing is destined to fizzle before we come close to solving the central mystery.

I should’ve known better. The damage is done! “FlashForward” is the third most popular new show this fall, according to Nielsen, based on average ratings over the first four weeks on the air. In case you’re wondering, CBS’s “NCIS: LA” is first (personally, I’m indifferent to “NCIS” and its soon-to-be-countless spinoffs), CBS’s “The Good Wife” is second (a great new drama, explored in more detail here, that richly deserves the attention), ABC’s “Modern Family” is fourth (Hurray!) and ABC’s “Cougar Town” is fifth (Oof). Not surprisingly, ABC has picked up all three of these shows for full seasons, along with the alternately amusing and tone-deaf Patricia Heaton sitcom “The Middle.”

Aside from Courteney Cox and her chafing stampede of screeching harpies, you have to hand it to ABC. And it’s great to know so early in the season that an excellent show like “Modern Family” and a promising show like “The Middle” will both be around for a while.

Which shows won’t be around? All of the new medical dramas seemed to be on life support this fall, from NBC’s flashy but blunt EMT dud “Trauma” to NBC’s mercilessly self-righteous nurse drama “Mercy” to CBS’s stomach-churningly bad organ-donor soap “Three Rivers.” Nonetheless, “Mercy” unexpectedly won its time slot last week, so those tireless nurses are likely to keep wagging fingers at cartoonishly self-concerned doctors for a little longer.

Just in case you care (which seems unlikely), the CW’s “The Beautiful Life” was the first pilot to be officially canceled, taken out at the knees after just two pretty but empty episodes.

As far as older shows go, Fox’s “Dollhouse” has been getting horrible ratings, even with a bump from DVR viewing, which is disappointing because the series has been smart and transfixing lately despite consistently lukewarm performances by Eliza Dushku. (Can’t someone just give Joss Whedon a blank check to create his own show without strings attached? What, the TV industry doesn’t work that way? Why not?) In other confusing, “What were they thinking?” news, NBC’s promising cop drama “Southland” was given the ax before even a single episode of its second season could air, presumably because Leno has razed the 10 p.m. time slot on that network with his slow, lumbering reign of terror. NBC is really suffering from its crappy decisions this fall.

But as long as NBC keeps its new comedy “Community” (8 p.m. Thursdays) around, I won’t be complaining — at least not for another few seconds. “Community” is still hilarious and has more than enough absurd moments per episode to keep me watching. Joel McHale’s character isn’t all that interesting, because he’s too busy mooning over Britta (Gillian Jacobs), but the others are great, from Abed’s (Danny Pudi) alien hoax to Chevy Chase’s deadpan confused retiree to Senor Chang’s (Ken Jeong) unraveling mental health, showcased in this clip:

Scenes like that one leave “Community” battling it out for the second-best new comedy of the fall against HBO’s “Bored to Death” (9:30 p.m. Sundays) and Fox’s “Glee” (9 p.m. Wednesdays). “Glee,” which has been picked up for a full season, balances some recent lackluster music numbers with consistently great scenes featuring sadistic cheerleading coach Sue (Jane Lynch), while “Bored to Death,” which is already lining up a second season, continues to amuse, mostly thanks to priceless moments featuring Zach Galifianakis and Ted Danson.

So let’s raise our glasses to the best fall season of TV in years! Keep the music blasting, the laughter roaring and the free drinks flowing as long as you can, network and cable overlords, because on TV, the good times can only last for so long. Here’s to keeping the magic alive a little longer — or at least as long as it takes for Dylan on “Modern Family” to pen another sleazy love song.

When people talk about homos taking over the planet, my heart races a little faster. A planet ruled by gays! Imagine how good the scones will be!

Plus, there’ll be prettier yards, less crime, more funding for the arts but less bad poetry, fewer rude, disheveled dogs roaming loose on the streets, and less weak coffee. I’m guessing there aren’t many gay Hummer owners. McMansions would surely fall out of fashion, along with miniblinds, vinyl siding and Applebee’s.

Everyone would be grumpier and bossier on the outside, but more kindhearted deep down inside. Complaining about your crappy day would become an acceptable form of filibustering in Congress. Neglecting your houseplants would become punishable by law.

What, now I’m just making sweeping generalizations? Now it’s obvious that I think gay people are silly and overly fixated on trivial matters and other likable things like that? Now I’m just pandering to the future global elite in the hopes that I might one day fill some token fag hag post in the cabinet?

Pretty, witty, gay, etc.

I can’t help it. I’ve been idealizing gay people ever since I moved to the Castro, in San Francisco, at the tender age of 25, where I was surrounded every day by beautiful, fit, talkative men. Suddenly I knew how Captain Kirk felt when he was beamed down onto a planet of gorgeous lady aliens who were nonetheless impatient with his dull earthling ways. Sure, I’ve been urged over and over again not to assume that all gay and lesbian peoples of the globe are wickedly witty and charming and fun-loving and smart, but each new gay person I meet only further clouds my vision with his/her general-purpose excellence and flair.

This is the trouble I smell on television this fall, where token gay characters have replaced token black characters as the marginalized peoples du jour. By depicting gay people as they really are — intelligent, attractive, self-possessed — modern-day televisual narratives run the risk of misinforming the public about the fact that many gay people are slovenly, slow-witted and boring. I would personally launch a public awareness campaign to inform the populace that Gay People Are Stupid And Uninteresting, Too — I just can’t find any stupid, uninteresting gay people to help me enlighten the masses.

Meanwhile, the networks continue their campaign of misinformation by featuring highly charismatic token gays on their shows. There’s Eric (Connor Paolo), Serena’s little brother on “Gossip Girl,” and Mo-Mo (Haaz Sleiman), Jackie’s trusted confidant on “Nurse Jackie.” And on the new shows this fall, token gays are moving front and center, from Kurt (Chris Colfer), a confident, talented member of the show choir on Fox’s “Glee” who nonetheless gets tossed into a dumpster every morning by the football team (although that’s about to change) to Mitchell (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) and Cameron (Eric Stonestreet) on ABC’s “Modern Family,” a gay couple who adopt a baby girl from Vietnam and immediately feel self-conscious about it.

Poor Mitchell, alone with the baby as he boards his plane home, elicits coos from fellow passengers until his partner, Cameron, returns with snacks for their adopted daughter. Suddenly the same cooing passengers are averting their eyes. But a rude comment from a woman passing by is what finally sends Mitchell over the edge.

Lady: (to husband) Honey, honey! Look at that baby with those cream puffs!

Mitchell: All right. Excuse me. This baby would’ve grown up in a crowded orphanage if it wasn’t for us cream puffs! And to all of you who judge, hear this: Love knows no race, creed or gender! And shame on you, you small-minded ignorant few …

Cameron: Mitchell, Mitchell! (Showing their baby, holding a cream puff.) She’s got the cream puffs.

Now, granted, this and many of the other jokes surrounding gay couple Mitchell and Cameron are focused on their gayness. They are the token gay characters, after all, so their stories are, predictably enough, rife with stereotypical gay behaviors, like when Cameron has a mural painted on the wall of baby Lily’s nursery of himself and Mitchell as angels .

Cameron: I had Andre do it while we were gone!

Mitchell: Is that us, with wings?

Cameron: We’re floating above her, always there to protect her.

Mitchell: Well, that’s reassuring, right, Lily? Yes, we tore you away from everything you know, but don’t worry, things are normal here, your fathers are floating fairies. Can you call Andre? Have him paint something a little less gay? And by the way, we have to stop having friends with names like Andre.

Cameron: (to baby) Redheaded Daddy is angry Daddy.

See, if you saw a scene like that, you might imagine that gay men sometimes make outrageous or vaguely self-aggrandizing design decisions, or that despite such flights of fancy, they maintain a sense of humor about themselves and almost seem to enjoy it when other people make fun of them. And that wouldn’t be accurate at all, since many, many gay people in the world are incredibly stodgy and not very creative and also quite easily offended. Maybe you don’t know any gay people like that, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist!

Similarly, when Kurt opens the third episode of “Glee” with a mesmerizingly coy rendition of Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies,” then tries out for kicker of the football team in an effort to win his dad’s approval, but insists on listening to Beyoncé’s song right before he kicks the ball, we might end up assuming that gay kids are more unique or even a little more appealing than their straight peers in high school. What could be further from the truth?

What’s even more deceptive is that these gay characters — Kurt and Mitchell and Cameron — are some of the funniest and most captivating characters on their shows. And what’s worse, “Glee” and “Modern Family” are some of the funniest and most captivating comedies on television this fall, so, of course, being small-minded, ignorant assholes, we immediately assume that these shows must be written and staffed by gay people. But that wouldn’t be fair, because I’m sure there are plenty of dumb, uninteresting straight people on staff, too.

The whole thing is just a big mess, one perpetuated by those who want to fool the public into thinking that gay people are better than us, just like gay people fool the public into thinking that gay people are better than us by… actually being better than us.

Flying under the gaydar

Take Ellen DeGeneres. First she proves that she’s better than all of the straight people in the world by coming out as gay on her sitcom 12 years ago, something that no straight person in his or her right mind would ever do because we’re too ashamed by our mediocrity and our poor hygiene, let alone our sexuality, to reveal anything of note about ourselves in any sort of public setting.

But that’s not enough. Next, Ellen tries her hand at the talk show thing (like everyone else on the planet) and not only doesn’t fail (like everyone else on the planet) but succeeds with flying colors. She dumps crazy Anne Heche for hot Australian babe Portia de Rossi, hosts the Academy Awards, and just generally succeeds at everything while treating her status as a gay woman as old news (which it is, thanks to the fact that she came out a long, long time ago, before anyone else had the courage to).

And now what does Ellen do? She lands a plum job as a judge on the most popular show on the planet. Is this fair? Hasn’t she gone too far, at long last?

Sure, it’ll be tough to fill Paula Abdul’s shoes. After all, Abdul added a lot to the discussion on “American Idol” when she giggled and rambled on incoherently about how much she loved every single contestant onstage. And also, didn’t she have this great rapport with Simon Cowell, where Simon would tease her and she would act all mad and punch him in the arm without saying anything but “Simon!”? Wasn’t that fun?

Ellen will really struggle to live up to Paula’s legacy. And Lord knows we don’t want someone to put Simon Cowell in his place. We’d prefer that Simon (who’s as sharp-tongued and as self-deprecating as a gay man, but whose terrible hair gives him away as straight) continue to sleep his way through “American Idol,” lulled into a semi-hypnotic state by the inane ramblings of Randy Jackson and Ryan Seacrest. God forbid that Simon be taken out at the knees by someone a little more clever and witty and Johnny-on-the-Spot than he is.

It’s a sign of how far Ellen has come in the world, and how much she’s changed it, that no one is referring to her as the token gay judge on “American Idol,” any more than Randy Jackson is referred to as the token black judge. To America, Ellen is funny first and smart second and lovable third and maybe gay fourth or fifth or sixth (just as Randy is annoying first and repetitive second and boring third or fourth).

And this is how the gays eventually take over the world, you know. They distract us into thinking that they’re just like us, when in fact they’re far superior. We’re subdued into complicity and before we know it, the national anthem is replaced by Cole Porter’s “I Get a Kick out of You,” the military is marching in classic Bob Fosse formation, and Wal-Mart stops stocking guns and ammo and starts stocking whimsical Dalmatian statuettes and Jonathan Adler throw pillows.

But at least the scones will taste better.