By Deborah
Props to Professor Frink for giving me an atlas for Festivus. Now I'll be somewhat less geography-impaired. Don't imagine that will ever extend to sports, though. I plan to remain as generally ignorant as possible about that.
Previously onThe West Wing: Leo told Jed a deal was offered if Jed would accept censure; Josh argued to Leo that history forgets such things, but Leo said that Presidents don't, and that Jed definitely wouldn't; Sam mentioned to Jed that he doesn't think the truth is something to be casual about, and Jed agreed; Amy wanted to know why Josh is so dysfunctional when it comes to relating to women; Jed admitted to Leo that he was wrong; Amy smooched with Josh on his doorstep.
We hear POTUS giving the State of the Union address. We are in a room filled with television monitors. From a design inlaid on the floor, we see that it's the National Strategies Group offices. Sam walks in as everyone's applauding one of Jed's statements. He starts explaining to a petite blonde woman with an ear-length bob (Traylor Howard) about the dial graphics on the monitors, and what they indicate. The dials register numbers from one to one hundred, and the higher they go, the higher the approval of those responding; the numbers are tallied by a central computer. The blonde woman says, "Like the Nielsens." Sam hesitates a moment, and it's hard to be sure whether he's more annoyed by the specific comparison or with the whole process of dealing with this woman. She asks whether the people with the dials are behind a screen somewhere. Sam lists the names of some cities and towns where opinions are being gathered. The woman asks, "Which one's Joey?" Sam hollers over to Kenny, "Can we get Joey for a second?" Kenny signs to Joey, who gestures to Sam that she'll come over in a minute. Sam signs back to Joey, "Thanks." Blondie seems mildly surprised and asks, "When did you pick that up?" Sam shrugs it off, saying that he simply thanked Joey. Someone snaps Sam's photograph, and Sam asks if they could go easy with the pictures. Blondie says, "You said it wouldn't be a problem." Sam wants to know when he said that. Blondie: "C.J. Cregg said it wouldn't be a problem." Sam just nods ever so slightly, too distracted by the concerns of the moment to bother any further.
Joey and Kenny hustle over; Sam introduces her to them as "Lisa Sherbourne. She's doing a piece for Vanity Fair." Lisa, of course, would be Sam's ex-fiancée (referred to in "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, Part 1"). Marlee Matlin's hair is layered and blown back in a kind of feathery retro 'do. I wouldn't like it on just anybody, but she carries it off. It's not my favourite hairstyle for her, though. Kenny seems to have much more hair than I recall. Puffier, you know? Joey tells Lisa that she doesn't have a lot of time right now. Lisa asks what the different lines mean. Joey explains that red is for Republicans, blue is for Democrats, and green is for Independents. Joey explains, "When we say something liberal, like..." As she thinks, Sam suggests, "Death is bad." Because everyone knows that if there's one thing those gosh-darned Republicans stand for, it's death for everybody. Or wait: is death only for the rich? Joey runs with that and explains some very predictable information about how the lines correspond to the political leanings of the respondent. She adds, "You're usually lucky to break 65[\%]. I gotta get back now." Joey takes off with Kenny. I can't wait to see this particular Vanity Fair feature sliced and diced in The Mediator.
A little montage begins as Sam narrates the process: memos are written. We see someone dump a pile of Cerlox-bound documents on Ginger's desk. These memos come from all kinds of departments and politicians, including what Sam calls "outside notables" and as examples cites former presidents, Henry Kissinger, Bill Gates, Jesse Jackson, and potentially Mr. Rogers. We see Ginger take the documents into Sam's office. Staffers read some of the memos and pass them to Jed, who makes notes in the margins; we see Jed working late in the First Boudoir at night, while a body slumbers in the shadows of the bed behind him -- ostensibly Abby, of course, but really it's one of the gaffers under the blanket. Then comes the "President's First Thoughts Meeting," which is when they all want to kill themselves, according to Sam, because then POTUS tells them they're "nowhere." Lisa: "Why?" Sam: "'Cause we're nowhere." We see POTUS pacing around his office with lots of the staff in attendance. Sam says they try to figure out what people want to hear, as we see Joey holding court with Ed and Larry and others in the Mural Room. "And that's when anybody who didn't want to kill themselves before has certainly been converted to the cult." Lisa asks why it's so hard. Sam: "Because it's a white piece of paper." Lisa: "How high are the stakes?" Honestly, what sort of brain trust are we dealing with here? Sam asks how high she can count. Well, considering what we've seen of Lisa, I'm guessing...eleventy-six? As more shots of meetings and writing on whiteboards continue, Sam says they do whatever it takes to get started. Sam says they try new ideas, themes and slogans, and after a few weeks of that, they've still got a white piece of paper. We see Toby walk in front of a whiteboard with a lot of writing on it and scribble on top, "We're nowhere!" Back to the White House. Lisa helps herself to some hot pumpkin soup and some cheese gnocchi with a chèvre brioche. No, she just plops some food on a plate as she observes, "So it's hard." Sam is made to say, "Hmm?" so that Lisa can repeat her line again. You'd think I'd like all this repetition, but it takes me just as much time to tell you about all the repetition as it would take to tell you new stuff, so it's not really all that much help to me. Sam says it's hard at the best of times: "Obviously, it got a little harder two weeks ago." Lisa: "What happened two weeks ago?" Sam doesn't answer, thinking, "My God, it's a good thing I didn't marry this dolt. What if our children were as pretty as I and as dumb as she?" A few moments pass, and Lisa says, "Congress censured the President." Sam confirms this.
Josh leaves. C.J. and Sam walk out a different door, as C.J. says, "Hey, Sam? Well argued." The hall they walk out into is pretty much the exact colour I've just today painted the hall between the kitchen and Frink's office, and will probably paint the kitchen. At least, it is on my TV. The colour scheme of my house has been deeply influenced on both a conscious and subconscious level by the set of this show. I just love the colours and a lot of the lighting on the show, and I will reiterate my plea for the set people to come and help me make some decisions here. I'd feed ya real well and lavish you with praise and everything. Anyway, Sam asks C.J., "Whaddya want?" C.J.: "What kind of attitude is that?" Sam's not in the mood to kibitz. C.J. tells him Vanity Fair wants to do a profile on him, starting with reporting on the night of the State of the Union. Sam impatiently asks, "Why don't they just cover the State of the Union?" Because you're going to look a lot hunkier on the cover than a sheaf of white paper, or even a handful of Congressmen all dressed in grey Armani evening wear, artfully draped over swanky chaises longues. C.J. says that this is the magazine's way of covering it. She also points out that she knows the writer they've assigned to the project: Lisa Sherbourne. Sam replies, "That's funny, because I used to be engaged to someone named Lisa Sherbourne." Sam states that he's not doing it. C.J. persists.
Sam walks into his office, saying he thought the policy was that they don't do staff profiles. C.J. says there's no such policy; Sam thinks there should be, in order to keep the focus on the Presidency. "People should think he writes the State of the Union." C.J.: "I think people know about speechwriters." Yeah, well, you haven't met Ms. Sherbourne, apparently. Sam: "Then there's no more story to tell." Sam spins around in his chair, turning his back on C.J. She goes around behind his desk and perches so that she's facing him, and asks, "In the past, did it help or hurt that the campaign had a youthful and energetic energy?" Sam: I'm not sure you can say 'an energetic energy.'" C.J. persists; Sam admits it helped. C.J.: "Do we need help right now? Do young women read Vanity Fair?" Actually, with someone who looks like Sam, I think you can include "young men" in that group too. I get the impression some men might switch teams for him. Sam says, "So let them cover the President." I get the feeling Sam is not only uncomfortable being used as a piece of meat, but also too modest to say so. C.J.: "They do cover the President. Right now they want you. And I want to give you to them." Sam, knowing he lost the game before he even got on the field or court or what-have-you (there she goes, mangling the sports metaphors again), asks, "It's gotta be Lisa Sherbourne?" C.J. asks, "Hey, is the reason you guys didn't get married because her name would have been Lisa Sherbourne-Seaborn?" Hey, maybe it just would have been Lisa Sherbourne. My name isn't Deborah Lastname-Frink'slastname. Sam looks at her exactly the way I would and says, "Yeah. That's the reason." C.J. gets up to leave, pleased with herself, and says, "I could do this for a living."
Back at the post-speech celebrations, we see C.J. wind her way through the Roosevelt Room (I think), carrying a glass. There's a man following her, and the eager, smiling way in which he's doing so makes you think they're hustling off to get a room together. I'm sure that's totally not what's going on, but I do wonder if they staged it that way to toy with us. I actually like it when they mess with our minds. If you don't believe me, watch it again. Sam looks around, spots Joey and Kenny coming through the Communications Department, and buzzes over to meet them: "Do you have anything?" She says no. Sam refuses to believe it, saying that if she didn't, she wouldn't be at the party. Joey says she likes parties. Sam keeps pushing. She's got preliminary numbers: just the first twenty minutes, and she says Sam doesn't want that. Lisa quietly sneaks up behind them, and Joey greets her. Sam turns to Lisa and explains that he needs a few minutes. Lisa doesn't go away; in fact, she says she can wait, so Sam indicates that he'd like her to wait elsewhere. She leaves.
Sam, Joey, and Kenny go into the Communications Department to talk. Sam keeps pushing and says that the censure affected people's reactions during the first twenty minutes. Sam doesn't want to hear explanations; just numbers. Joey says, "Democrats: low to mid-50s. Republicans, high 30s. Independents: low 40s." Sam's response: "You are kidding me." He can't believe the ratings for Independents. Joey tries to calm him down, but he complains, "Ten minutes! You said ten minutes, and not this bad!" She tells him again to wait for the rest of the results. Sam starts raking himself over the coals: "We did internet commerce in the first twenty minutes. We did child asthma..." Joey says, "He wasn't the President in the first twenty minutes. Wait for the rest of the dial groups!" Sam walks out, saying, "Top line, cross-tabs, whatever you get...I've got a bad feeling about tonight." Joey sighs and rolls her eyes. As he comes out of the office area, Sam stops and looks at Lisa, who's drinking a glass of wine and looking around the room. He walks over to her; she asks, "Were those polling numbers?" First he says no, and then he says that they were, but that it was nothing, and it's too early to tell. Lisa studies his face as he tries to give her a disarming smile and fails.
After the commercials, I get my second shout-out in as many weeks. Ed and Larry walk up to Sam and Lisa to congratulate Sam. Sam introduces Ed and Larry to Lisa. Lisa asks, "Which one's Ed? Which one's Larry?" Ed and Larry say in unison, "Doesn't matter." Well, aren't they easygoing? They walk away as Larry tells Sam, "Joey went back to the office." I think Sorkin's just playing with me now. If he really wants to give me a shout-out, he'll see that if Josh's mom ever appears on the show, she's portrayed by Barbara Barrie. I've been lobbying for this for a couple of years now, and I can't think of anyone who'd be better as his mother. Lisa says, "You don't have to introduce me as 'Lisa Sherbourne from Vanity Fair.'" Maybe you'd prefer "my ex-fiancée"? Actually, it's very clearly a good thing that they didn't get married: they have no chemistry with each other whatsoever. There isn't even a feeling that they were ever once all that connected, never mind enough to consider marriage. Chalk it up to some kind of youthful idiocy, I guess. Sam says he likes to make sure people know that they're talking to a reporter. She asks, "You really are uncomfortable with me being here, aren't you? You aren't, you know, just being you?" Sam replies, with fake sincerity, "I don't know what that means." Lisa tries again: "How did curing cancer get cut from the State of the Union?" Sam says indifferently that they had to cut plenty of things. Lisa: "Curing cancer?" Sam: "Hey, we had to cut a section on making government manuals easier to read, so 'curing cancer' can take a number." Well, at least this administration has priorities. Lisa sits back in her chair and inquires, "Why are you pissed at me?" Sam claims, "I'm not pissed at you. I'm working." I don't know about him, but I can definitely do both. She says he's done working. Clearly, she could not be any more clued out about the nature of working in the White House. Sam says he's not done: "You're confused because you see Absolut Cosmopolitans and famous people." Actually, I'd think that might resemble a lot of the work she does for the likes of Vanity Fair. Lisa kind of chuckles this away, adding, "A section on government manuals." Now you just know this has got to involve Josh and Donna.
Sure enough, Josh wanders over to Donna's cubicle to ask her to get him a memo on welfare-to-work initiatives. Donna's labouring over a large volume with her hand to her forehead, looking dismayed. Without turning around to look at him, she says yeah. Josh leans on a file cabinet behind Donna's desk, and after a moment announces, in a strained attempt to be casual, "I'm...seeing Amy again tonight." Donna replies a bit sharply, "Second date?" Josh says, "First date. Last night was really more of a, you know..." Donna: "Scheme?" Hee. Josh admits this. Donna adds, "Good. 'Cause the second date is where the wheels usually come off the wagon for you." This strikes me as a fairly transparent comment, but Josh is too busy reacting with his usual defensiveness to ask himself, "Hey. Why would Donna be hoping my relationship with Amy fails?" He replies, "That is so false!" He walks around in front of Donna's desk. In response to her inquiries, he explains that they're having a late drink at Wilson's, a place he doesn't like because the piano player only seems to know one song. Josh quotes some lyrics and Donna informs him that the song is "Surrey With a Fringe on Top." Josh: "Whatever. It's like I'm on a hay ride." Donna reaches past Josh for a file folder, and he asks what she's doing. She says she's trying to figure out whether he has to pay for the plane ticket to Phoenix. Josh says it's official travel. Donna says that doesn't seem to make a difference. He asks what the rule says. Donna refers to the aforementioned volume, which looks like it's about 1200 pages long, She sighs and reads, "'An employee may not use contract airline/rail passenger service provided under the contract with the General Services Administration. See part 301-15, subpart B, of this chapter.'" Josh shrugs and wonders what the problem is. Donna explains, "Well, let's set aside that there's no subpart B. The rest of it uses a sentence structure with which I'm not familiar." Josh says, "Just put it on my credit card," and starts to return to his office. Donna objects, "No, see, that's what I think this is designed to do. I think it's designed to break a person's spirit." Josh: "And dammit, that's my job." As he reaches his door, Donna calls out, "We're getting beat by the system!" Josh says, "We are the system." Donna: "We suck!" Josh: "Yes! I need the welfare-to-work memo."
Donna slumps and turns to go get the memo. She runs into Toby, who happens to be ambling along, and buttonholes him: "How many words in the Gettysburg Address?" Toby, bless his brilliant little heart, knows the answer, to absolutely no one's surprise: "Two hundred sixty-six." Donna: "And the Ten Commandments?" Toby: "One hundred and seventy three." I'm guessing that's the King James Version, although Toby could know it for the original Hebrew, because he is Toby-wan. But I think it wouldn't be as many words in Hebrew. Anyway: All Hail Toby-wan. Donna: "So you really wouldn't think you'd need six thousand to discover how a plane ticket gets reimbursed?" Toby says, "No." Donna, "No." She trundles off. Toby stands there for a moment, as if he's unsure what he came over for. Josh starts to come out of his office, sees Toby, sees that Toby has also seen him, and turns to return to his desk without acknowledging Toby. How very weird. Toby reacts to this slightly and leans wearily on the frame of Donna's cubicle for a moment. He then ambles a little closer to Josh's door and stands there until Josh looks at him again. Toby asks, "What's going on?" From inside his office, Josh gestures with the documents he's holding and says, "Welfare-to-work." They approach each other tentatively, meeting just outside Josh's door, and Toby quietly says that he was happy to hear that Josh had recommended censure. Josh says Toby's face didn't register much. I guess the weirdness is because Josh figures Toby must be pissed about it. Toby admits he was thinking about the speech, and that Josh shouldn't ask him how it's going. Josh says he wouldn't. Toby says it's in the "larva stage," and that these things can't be rushed. Toby seems very tense and yet oddly subdued, if that's possible. And maybe he's trying to have his own little top-secret situation, to balance not being on the inside with the censure thing. He sighs and says, "I need some pie." Josh thinks he should get some. Toby asks Josh to come along. Josh agrees to go get some with Toby, who tells Josh again not to ask him about the speech. Josh says he wouldn't. And off they go.
As they walk through a pair of doors, Toby asks Josh how his date with Amy went. Josh says, "Very, very well." Donna breezes between them at that moment, handing Josh the memo he wanted. Toby and Josh walk along slowly as Toby advises Josh that Amy's seeing someone. Josh doesn't want to know who it is at first, and then he does. It's John Tandy. When Josh hears that, he stops walking, because the gears grinding away in his head are sucking up all his energy. He resumes walking as he tells Toby why he finds that so interesting: "Because John Tandy is a..." He trails off. Toby tells him why: "'Cause they started seeing each other shortly after Nan Lieberman announced she was going to make a primary challenge in the 20th District." Josh: "Really?" He pauses. "Ah-so." The hell? "Ah-so?" Toby opines that Tandy's not courting Amy, he's courting the female vote. Josh doesn't think Toby is right; he thinks that's ridiculous. Toby: "Really?" Josh: "No, it's not ridiculous. Of course you're right." Toby sighs, and apropos of nothing, asks Josh, "Hey, who's the President having dinner with tonight?" Josh says it's some friends of Abby's. And they know or care about this because...? Toby gripes, "Good, 'cause when you're in his kind of mood, having dinner with your wife's friends is just what you're hoping for."
Classical music plays, and we see a roomful of people around a table in an elegant, wood-panelled dining room. One woman is saying, "It's molecular pathology." Another man: "STI." The man sitting to Jed's left -- someone who seems incredibly familiar to me -- mentions to Jed, "That's 'Signal Transduction Inhibitor.'" Jed: "I'm sorry?" Another guest repeats what STI stands for. Just getting that 7.4% in. Jed glumly says, "Abby just went to take a phone call." Wouldn't they all know that already? The Exposition Fairy needs to take off the clodhoppers already. The first woman says they've tested it on twelve patients. The man to her right asks, "Is this the first drug to target sphingosine kinase?" The woman confirms this. The man on Jed's left asks where they are with regard to the FDA. Jed's not paying much attention to the conversation, being both bored and depressed. He stares into his teacup and toys with his spoon. The other man says they just ruled that higher doses can be used. Another guest, standing at the other end of the table and drinking some coffee, says, "I'm telling you, we're ten years, 25 billion dollars, and a good luck charm away from curing human cancer." They all start babbling at once about the advances and the costs when Jed looks up and asks, "What did you just say?" The woman to Jed's right explains that they're talking about a new drug, which targets the enzyme (sphingosine kinase) believed to control all the signal pathways to cancer growth. She and the man beside her describe the drug as a sort of "smart bomb" that can kill cancer without killing healthy cells. Jed heard the gentleman opposite him, Bobby, say that they could cure cancer in ten years. Bobby clarifies, "Not cure it, but...make it chronic." Which I guess for some of the medical establishment counts as a cure. Jed asks, "In other words, make it so that people could live with it?" Bobby confirms this. Jed asks what is standing between them and that happening. The woman laughs softly and says, "I don't know." Jed asks, "Who at this table knows?" She says a little sharply, "No one at this table knows." Jed asks how much it would cost. She says nobody knows that either: "It's cancer. Nobody knows anything." Jed points out that Bobby just said "ten years." Jed declares, "I want to hear about this from the beginning. Talk to me like I'm not an oncologist." Yes, let's pretend. They all look at each other hesitantly, almost as if a six-year-old had just asked where babies come from. Jed gets a little irritable, and says, "I'm not messing around. This isn't barbecue night. I'm the Commander-in-Chief. Put your asses in the chairs." How very gracious. Frankly, I don't care if he's the Grand Poobah of the Royal Order of Water Buffaloes; I think it's rude to act that way in a primarily social situation. And I bet Abby would agree, if she were something other than an alluded-to presence. Mind you, they weren't making a special effort to include him in the conversation, either. I guess they're all boors. The guests all sit and straighten up, with the air of children who've just been told they have to miss recess in order to study.
Josh barrels along: "The WLC put $9 million in the hands of pro-choice candidates. You narrowed the gap in the House from fourteen to nine in one election. You bring home the bacon." She retorts, "You think John's worried about losing women? He runs, and EMILY's List practically makes a wire transfer. He crushed his last opponent in Lauderdale -- I don't even remember his name -- but he was a moderate, pro-choice Republican, and there was a 29% gender differential. You think he's going around with me 'cause he's afraid of Nan Lieberman?" Josh: "I do." Amy laughs mirthlessly: "Well, I've never been so flattered in my life!" Josh replies, "I don't think I'm getting enough credit for saying this for your own good." 'Cause people love that sort of thing, especially on first dates. She says, "Don't talk to me." He pauses and says, "Look..." Amy: "Don't talk to me." Josh: "We'll change the..." Amy: "You're talking to me." Josh: "Perhaps..." Amy: "Don't talk to me." Josh: "I should just sit here?" Amy: "Yes." Josh: "And?" Amy: "Not talk to me." Josh: "Amy..." She walks in front of him and declares, "I have wit. I have charm. I have brains. I have legs that go all the way down to the floor, my friend." Well, bully for you. That's actually a feature of most legs. She starts to walk away. Josh says, "You don't have to..." She tells him again not to talk to her. Josh watches her stride out, with his mouth open to say something, although he doesn't know what he could say that would fix this. His cell phone rings. It's Toby, telling him, "You gotta come back. The President thinks he can cure cancer." Josh thinks that's some good news.
Back at the White House, Joey and Kenny are walking down the hall toward the Oval Office with Charlie. Joey asks, "Did he find a cure for cancer? Because if he found a cure for cancer, I'd think that would be interesting. I'd think that was something we should share. But he didn't. He wants to find a cure for cancer, and he wants to say that in the State of the Union. You know what my response would be? 'Me, too. But is this the first time you had that thought?'" Charlie asks Joey to sign the word "union" again: "That was cool." She complies, and Charlie says, "No. It must have been a different word." Joey asks, "Is he serious about this?" Charlie replies, "That's not my department. I get you to the meeting." Then he asks, "How high are the stakes for the speech?" Wouldn't Charlie be pretty clued in on that? She replies, "They're high. But a magic trick isn't going to help." He persists: "How high?" She says, "High!" Charlie: "How high?" Are we there yet, Dad? Joey explains, "Well, you don't win anything in January. You only lose. If he doesn't park the State of the Union -- and I mean deep -- it'll be his last one." Charlie seems cool with that and says, "All right. You're in the Oval Office."
Ed'n'Larry (that's the new spelling) bust through a pair of doors as Josh returns from his date -- and I use the word loosely. Josh asks if he heard Toby correctly on the phone. Larry says, "It could be worse, you know." Josh wonders how. Larry: "He could have cancer." Josh asks, "Do the two of you ever go anywhere separately?" Ed replies as he and Larry veer off in front of Josh, "It's weird, isn't it?" Josh keeps walking and says, "A little weird, yeah."
Josh meets up with Joey, Kenny, C.J., Sam, and Toby, who are waiting outside the Oval Office. Toby asks Josh how it went with Amy; Josh says, "Not at all well," and blames Toby. Leo calls them into the Oval Office. Jed's not there yet. As they stand around waiting, Josh quietly tells Toby, "Totally your fault." Toby: "I'm just...you know...I'm just the guy who does the thing." ["I'm sorry, did David Mamet write this episode?" -- Wing Chun] Josh, confused: "What?" Toby: "We've run out of pie."
Jed arrives from the portico and thanks them all for being there so late. He leans against the front of his desk and says, "A President stood up. He said, 'We will land a man on the moon before the end of the decade.' You know what we knew when he said that? Nothing. We didn't know about the lunar surface. We didn't know how to land one of these things. All we'd ever done is crash it into the ocean, and God knows, if we could figure out how to land soft, we didn't know how to blast off again. But a President said 'we're gonna do it,' and we did it. So I ask you: why shouldn't I stand up and say, 'We are going to cure cancer in ten years'?" He pauses, and no one speaks. He encourages them: "I'm really asking." Josh wonders, "How close are we to really being able to do this?" Jed says, "Nobody knows." Josh says, "Then..." But Jed cuts him off: "Toby?" Toby says it will be viewed as a political ploy. C.J. starts to jump in, excuses herself to Toby for cutting in, and says, "It can be seen as self-serving." Jed: "How?" C.J. explains, "Using cancer to deflect attention from MS." Jed asks, "You think people with cancer care what my motives are? You think their families do?" C.J. tries to explain further, but Jed wants to hear from Joey, who says, "I agree with everything that's been said, except I don't think they'll see it as deflecting the MS; I think they'll see it as deflecting the censure." Jed starts to object again that no one will care about his motives, and Joey replies (using her voice only), "Everybody cares about motives, Mr. President." Jed didn't get that, and Kenny repeats the phrase for her. Finally Jed comes to dear, sweet, idealistic Sam: "Why shouldn't I do it?" Sam: "I think you should. I think ambition is good. I think overreaching is good. I think giving people a vision of government that's more than Social Security cheques and debt reduction is good." The other staffers listen quietly but don't seem thrilled by Sam's dissenting viewpoint. He continues, "I think government should be optimistic." Sam believes what he's saying, but he's not making his argument with anywhere near the conviction we've frequently seen from him: think of his passionate comments to Mallory about space exploration in "Galileo." The MS coverup, the censure, and many other events of the last three years have definitely taken their toll on Sam. Jed looks at everyone and then turns around to glance at Leo, standing stalwartly behind him. Jed says, "I'm sorry, I know it's late, but I want to start seeing drafts of a new section in the few hours. C.J., I want a sense of a media overview, too." She nods. Nobody moves. Jed: "Now." They bustle off. Leo hands Jed a file, and Jed sits down at his desk. Leo looks at Jed expectantly, and Jed says, "I just want to look at some drafts." Leo leaves for his office without a word.
Back in the Communications Department, Toby says he doesn't have an hour and half to spend on this. Sam says he can do it. Toby says Sam doesn't have the time, either. Sam asks, "Why are you opposed to this?" Toby: "Stopping what we're doing to write about curing cancer? 'Cause it's never going to be in the speech?" Sam, irritably: "How do you know?" Just then Joey and Kenny come through and she asks, "What resources do we have to devote?" Sam: "I don't know." She asks how much money it will cost. Sam doesn't know that either. Toby says, "That's how I know." Joey tells Sam, "The man's about to get a Congressional Censure. He's trying to pull a rabbit out of his hat. What are you doing humouring him?" Sam says he's not. Toby says he doesn't want Sam spending more than ninety minutes on it. Sam tells Joey, "You're a pollster. You don't think this would poll well?" She replies, "Do I think people are in favour of curing cancer? Yes, I do." Sam walks into his office. "So?" She follows him, arguing, "The federal government shouldn't be directing scientific research." Sam: "Why?" Joey: "Because you stink at it." I'm sure that's true. Joey continues, "If it was up to the NIH to cure polio through a centrally directed program, instead of an independent investigator-driven discovery, you'd have the best iron lung in the world but not a polio vaccine!" Sam snaps his book shut and asks, "When did you get an MD?" She says she was quoting Samuel Broder, the former director of the National Cancer Institute. She insists, "The speech is going to work fine. Don't overreact to the censure." Sam says there's no speech yet; Joey says there will be. Sam says he has to work now: "The President's asked me to try this." Joey says she'll be in her office.
Back at the post-speech party, Josh walks up to Joey and Kenny in the hall to ask, "When the hell are we getting numbers?" Joey hesitates and then informs him, "You're a pleasure to work for." Josh, unfazed: "I hear that a lot. When are we getting numbers?" Joey: "When I say so." She and Kenny take off. Donna glides up behind Josh and remarks, "So many women. So little charm." Josh: "What in God's name could you possibly want right now?" Well, for starters, you, although that's becoming more and more of a mystery to me. She walks around in front of him and tells him that had they promised to make government manuals easier to read, that would have been a winner.
Just then, someone walks quickly behind Josh, slapping him upside the head as she does so. It's Amy, commanding, "Come with me." As much as I generally dislike seeing people romantically involved with each other striking each other in anger or annoyance, it remains true that Josh has needed a slap upside the head for some time now. He excuses himself and walks down the hallway after Amy. She stage-whispers something that ends in "the White House," and Josh tells her he has no idea what she just said. Amy states, "He happens to be more feminist than the White House." Josh: "'Feminine'?" I guess maybe she didn't slap him hard enough. Or maybe too hard. She enunciates, "Feminist." She cites some of Tandy's various feminist credentials, in response to which Josh makes remarks diminishing those accomplishments. Then he claims he's not doing that: "I'm not quarrelling with his credentials as a lover of women. I happen to know he excels in that area." Doesn't miss getting any shots in, does he? Amy: "Look who's talking." Burn. Josh: "I'm just saying..." Amy: "That he's using me." Josh admits he was saying that two weeks ago: "But now I'm not saying anything in the vicinity of that." Suddenly, Congressman Tandy appears, and walks up and takes Amy's hand. Apparently the actor playing him is a spokesman for Sprint, although I've never seen the commercials myself. I'm just getting this from the forums. He and Josh greet each other. Tandy tells Amy that they're doing some pictures with POTUS in the Mural Room, and he wants her there. Amy: "You don't want to do them yourself?" He says no, and takes off, telling her to come along. Amy and Josh both know what the other one is thinking. She doesn't look at him. He tells her, "Go ahead. Photo op." She walks away, and then stops and turns to look back at Josh. She just stares at him for a moment, while Tandy, waiting further down the hall, says, "Amy?" She walks up to John, and takes his arm, as he calls back his congratulations to Josh about the State of the Union. Josh mutters to himself, "We'll see."
C.J. scurries into her office, kissing the results, followed by Carol, who chirps, "Congratulations, boss!" C.J. replies, "Nice job! Take the rest of the night off." Carol: "Yeah. It's one in the morning." C.J.: "Well, you've earned it." Sam comes in at that point, and C.J. says, "Sam, Sam, the Sunshine Man." If he didn't already have more official nicknames than anyone else on the show, I think that would clinch it. C.J. says, "Get on the couch. I'm going to do you right now." Sam, always amenable: "Okay." C.J.: "Sorry, I was still talking to Carol." Hee. Sam, affectionately: "What is wrong with you?" C.J., giggling: "We really don't know." C.J. sobers up and says that Lisa mentioned things weren't going that well, and she's concerned because he still has a couple of weeks with her. That sounds like fun. Sam says he wishes they hadn't started tonight. C.J.'s taken aback: "Why? It was a shining moment." Sam allows, "It got the job done. But it's ironic that a thing, a sort of thing between us, is that I'm supposed to know the difference between flash and substance." She reminds him, "Sometimes a little flash is what's required. You said that to me." Sam claims he says that when he doesn't have anything to say. C.J. argues, "It wasn't a Vegas act. It was stirring. And I wouldn't hang your head when you say 'it got the job done.' That job was impossible and it had to be done and there aren't ten guys in the country who could write that speech." Sam, refusing to be cheered: "I'll bet the Cancer Committee can't wait to buy me a beer." C.J. puts her hand softly on Sam's chest, over his tie. He shrugs off her concern: "Hey, I'm just...you know. Anyway. Congratulations...." And then he kind of whispers conspiratorially, "And if you're serious about that thing with Carol, I can just sit in the corner and not even say...." C.J. giggles and says, "Get out!" He leaves, and C.J. takes a sip of her drink. Good luck finding any room in that corner, buddy. I suspect you'd have to break some heads to get a seat. Good job on this whole scene. The dialogue felt very authentic and natural.
Sam finds Lisa and apologizes, saying he was just getting some numbers. She asks if he can tell her what they were. He says they're internal, and that CNN and USA Today will have something shortly. Sam indifferently indicates his office to her. Lisa suddenly announces that she's going to give her notes to someone else and let him or her finish reporting this story: "You're obviously not comfortable with this." Sam points out that the numbers are internal. Lisa cuts him off, saying, "Yeah, whatever. I'm going to give my notes to someone else." Sam just looks at her as if he can't decide what to say. He knows he doesn't want to talk her out of it. He says nothing, and then turns, walks into his office, and says, "Anyway, this is my office." Lisa says it's nice. Sam tells her about C.J. asking if the reason they didn't get married is because her name would Sherbourne-Seaborn. Oy. Lisa, sarcastically: "That's exactly why we didn't get married." She picks up a picture frame from one of Sam's shelves to examine the photo. Sam: "Why didn't we get married?" Um, isn't that something you'd have discussed at the time of calling the whole thing off? I'm just sayin'. In addition to being bummed over the long term about the trajectory of the administration for which he works, he seems pretty sad about the fact that this relationship didn't work out, despite the fact that he has no apparent warm (or cold) feelings for her at all. Very odd. Lisa asks, "Why do you think?" He responds, "'Cause I don't know what the cool restaurant is and I don't care." I hope there was more to it than that. "When I get hungry, I want to eat. And I don't know where the Tommy Hilfiger party is and I don't know what to do when I get there." She says he's full of crap. He claims, "I was never cool enough for you." She responds, "You're full of crap and you think too little of me, and I didn't leave you. You left me. And you did it to do this. And the reason you're pissy is because I'm here looking at you and writing about you and you're wondering if I'm going to think you've been doing anything at all." She might have something there. Sam states, "Often it's not clear to me whether or not I have." I can see how he'd be wondering that. She insists, "You have." Sam retorts, "How would you know?" She replies, "The bouncer at Moomba told me." Actually, she says she doesn't know.
Sam lapses into an anecdote: "Here's something interesting. In 1940, our armed forces weren't among the twelve most formidable in the world, but obviously, we were going to fight a big war. And Roosevelt said the U.S. would produce 50,000 planes in the four years. Everyone thought it was a joke. And it was, 'cause it turned out we produced 100,000 planes. Gave the Air Force an armada that would block the sun." Lisa asks if he still has what he wrote that night. Sam: "About curing cancer?" He goes to his laptop, calls it up (extremely quickly, I might add...maybe he was reading it before the speech and lamenting its excision?) and makes a gesture of turning the laptop slightly toward Lisa, to invite her to read it. She sits down opposite him, requesting that he read it to her. Sam complies: "Over the past half century, we've split the atom, we've spliced the gene, and we've roamed Tranquility Base. We've reached for the stars and never have we been closer to having them in our grasp. New science, new technology, is making the difference between life and death, and so we need a national commitment equal to this unparalleled moment of possibility. And so I announce to you tonight that I will bring the full resources of the federal government and the full reach of my office to this fundamental goal: we will cure cancer by the end of this decade." Sam looks sadly at his screen. Lisa comments, "That was nice. I'll pass the notes along." Nice? Maybe she could have picked a less hackneyed adjective. She leaves. Sam says nothing. We see Sam's screen, as he selects the text he just read and deletes it. The camera lingers briefly on the empty screen, and then swings around to show Sam's dispirited expression. Control-Z, Sam.