"This is my house," the predictable Sue sneers at her new nemesis, Coach Shannon Beiste.

But the butch Beiste hits back: "Do not get up in the Panther's business, baby. You're all coffee and no omelette.”

Huh? That doesn’t make any sense, says a baffled Sue. And it’s the first clue that hulking, barking Beiste isn’t quite the tough opponent that she looks.

Beiste’s really very sensitive, and we find that out when the football team catches her weeping after Sue and glee club’s Will Schuester conspire to tap into her inner traumatized child.

After last year’s petty warfare, it seems just wrong that Sue and Will ally so fast against the threatening Beiste. But Sue proves she’s the she-devil when she frames the new coach on a phony molestation charge (she lets Will in on the stunt with a wink) and tries to serve her dog poop cookies.

Will’s called out by Beiste on his uncharacteristic behavior, and he finds his conscience and apologizes for treating her like an outsider. An outraged Sue dismisses him as weak.

Meanwhile, newcomers are also threatening order in the lower hierarchy.

Realizing the glee club needs more members to qualify for nationals, the group recruits by performing a bubblegum version of Jay Z’s Empire State Of Mind on campus.

Both Rachel and Finn make inviting eyes at would-be members who, little do they know, will soon usurp their powers.

Rachel introduces herself to the exchange student whom she saw grooving to Jay Z’s New York City anthem . She corners Sunshine Corazon (pop star Charice) in the bathroom.

Do you know English?, Rachel asks boorishly. And it’s only minutes later that Sunshine upends Rachel’s world with a boppin’ rendition of Lady Gaga’s Telephone.

The needy, narcissistic Rachel didn’t bargain on Sunshine being a threat, so she sends her to a crackhouse for the tryouts.

“It wasn’t an active crack house, she tells the principal. But her stunt will cost the club: little merry Sunshine signs up with the enemy Vocal Adrenaline.

Meanwhile, while distributing Glee flyers, Finn discovers new boy Sam Evans (Chord Overstreet) singing in the shower.

Finn invites Sam to sing with the glee-fuls, and he performs a catchy reggae-hip hop mash of Billionaire that wins over the boys.

“Nice,” says Finn. “So you think you can come back and do that in front of everybody?” But at tryouts, Sam’s a no-show. And when Finn gets tossed off the football for calling Beiste a “dude,” new boy Sam ascends to quarterback. Finn, badly shaken, then tries out for the Cheerios.

The show’s producers poke fun at real life critics when a McKinley High reporter pointedly digs for all “the glee club dish you’re dying to know” in a opening for the show. Is Rachel really difficult? Has how Quinn's life changed since the birth of her bastard child? Did Puck get a vasectomy? When did Will ink a deal with Land's End?

“Did you know there’s a form on my blog that’s begging you to stop rapping?,” reporter Jacob Ben Israel asks Will. “Wait,” he responds, “kids don’t like it when I rap?"

Finally, Kurt hits back: "You know what, Jacob, it doesn't take people much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds on their Barcaloungers and log on to the Internet and start tearing people down, does it?. But you know what does take some courage? Standing up and singing about something."

Personally, I like all the the homogenized hip hop, show tunes and top 40 tunes Glee delivers. And I sympathize knowing that it’s got to be hard to come down off the high from an unprecedented 19 Emmy nominatons. But the fevered pitch of last night’s show made it seem the gang was trying too hard. And nothing turns off followers faster than when the cool kids come off as desperate.

A plea to Ryan Murphy: Can you turn it down just a notch?