By Deborah
Props to Glark for filling in for me last week. This is the longest break I've ever had during the regular season. I wonder if I still remember how to write a recap. Well, we'll see.
Previously on The West Wing: Babish and C.J. ran down the many ways in which Abby broke laws and contributed to the MS coverup.
We're outside the First Bedroom looking in the window through a gauzy curtain. Jed's sitting in a wing chair reading a newspaper. He's wearing a tuxedo, but his jacket's off. Abby's bustling around the room in a long brown satiny gown with translucent sleeves in a gold mesh-y fabric, which, unfortunately, doesn't suit her very well. It's a gorgeous dress, but it emphasizes all the wrong aspects of her figure; it could probably only be carried off by a much taller and probably thinner woman. I'm sure it was meant to make her look movie-star glamorous, but instead it comes off as matronly. There's too much fabric, (especially swaddled around her butt), it's cinched and pinched in all the wrong places, and it just does nothing for her. I think it's supposed to be all very John Singer Sargent but the effect is more Elizabeth II. Her hair is straight, but it has a rough, straw-like texture and line to it that is not fetching. ["She's got that same intentionally-split-endy effect going on that Amy's been saddled with, like, it's not 1981, and neither of them is Joan Jett, so put down the razors, hair people." -- Wing Chun] I don't get it, because I think Stockard Channing is very attractive and I've seen her look fabulous many times, but it's almost never the case on this show for some reason. And I'm not inclined to blame the costume people, because they usually manage to make Donna and C.J. look stunning in evening wear on this show. What gives? Anyway, Abby asks Jed if he likes her earrings; like any man who's been partnered with a woman for more than a few minutes and who has two brain cells to rub together, he replies, without looking, that he does. She, of course, would actually like him to look at them. He ascertains, without looking up, that they aren't new, she's worn them before, so he loves them. She abandons the typically fruitless female endeavour of soliciting worthwhile fashion input from her husband. (Believe me, I've been down this road with Professor Frink many a time. And I'd complain, but how can you complain about a guy who genuinely thinks -- however misguidedly -- that you look perfect no matter what you're wearing, and therefore has no useful critique to offer?)
Abby bustles back into the bathroom or dressing room or whatever as Jed fires off a crossword clue: "'Laissez-faire doctrine': fifteen letters." Abby calls out: "Social Darwinism." Jed argues that can't be the answer, because it's not a doctrine, it's a force of nature. I think I want my living room to be the colour of their bedroom; maybe not that gold, or that dark, but that warm. Oh yeah, the show. Jed says the answer is "libertarianism." Except that's only fourteen letters, dude. Abby claims she'll be ready in two minutes. Jed mildly says, "Take your time." Abby: "Passive aggression is not going to get me out the door any faster." Jed: "BooBoo, I gave up on getting you out the door in the late '70s. Plus it's your birthday: you're old, and you don't move around that fast." She points out that "libertarianism" only has fourteen letters; Jed replies, "I know, so I'm shading in the extra box." Not, apparently, a Grand Wizard of the crossword puzzle. So there's something Jed isn't good at. She adds that it's not her birthday. Jed says it's her birthday week, a week of festivities, like "Mardi Gras, or Lent." And damn lawtalkin'guy anyway, for getting the last RDC Challenge, which was "giving up ______ for Lent," and which I suggested, before I even had this perfect chance to use it. Abby perfumes herself lavishly as Jed fires another clue: "Three letters: 'It may be bitter.' Tea, right?" Abby asks, "Why 'tea'?" Jed: "'Cause 'woman' doesn't fit." Oh, ho ho! Chortle. Abby: "'End,' you idiot. Bitter end." You know, I guess a lot of couples relate this way, by calling each other insulting names in a joking way and telling each other to shut up, but it always makes me slightly uncomfortable. Even if Frink and I are having a huge argument (which in his typical way he prefers to refer to as "spirited debates"), we don't call each other insulting names and we don't abandon rules of general kindness and civility just because we're disagreeing. I guess it works for some people, though.
Jed then asks if, when the medical board pronounces their verdict on Abby's hearing, they slap the results up on an x-ray light board and point out the flaws in her testimony, along the lines of tumours in a lung. I'd think that was some pretty thin ice to be skating around on that carelessly. Abby replies in a fake-o voice: "That...that's funny! The other twenty-three jokes weren't funny. Well, it's not that they weren't funny, it's just that they weren't ha-ha funny, you know? But twelve years of medical school, my life, my work, my future, everything, up on the x-ray board, that's comedy!" She walks into a closet off the bedroom. Jed: "See, I know it sounds like you're praising me..." Abby, from offscreen: "Oh, shut up!" He claims it's not her life or twelve years of anything -- that they're going to give her the very least that they can. Abby: "They can't give me the very least they can give me. The least they can give me is a Letter of Concern, which is private and unpublished, but that isn't available to me, because I fought the case and stood by my convictions." She hurls a big shiny stole down on the bed. Jed: "Well, that was stupid." Way to be the supportive and grateful husband, jackass. Wait, I need that name for Josh. Well, we'll see how he acts in this episode. Abby tells him to do his puzzle, and sits on the bed. Jed continues, "Standing by your convictions isn't going to get you anywhere. And this isn't some guy off the street talking. I'm a very successful politician." Abby asks how many people are at the party; he says, "About two hundred, but that was five or six hours ago, when it started." Abby accuses him again of being passive-aggressive. Jed: "'Body organ produces hydrochloric acid.' That's the kidney, right? Or the lima bean?" Lima bean? Abby states, "Pancreas." Um, not so much, no. It's the parietal cells in the stomach lining that produce hydrochloric acid. I know, since I spend a lot of time these days reading about the gastrointestinal system (because I have Leaky Gut Syndrome, which sucks, but at least it isn't Leaky Butt Syndrome), so I feel I'm on fairly sturdy ground here. But thanks for playing. Jed: "See, they can't take medical school away from you." Yeah, that's a big comfort to her, I'm sure. I know it would be to Jed, if the situation were reversed.
Jed tells Abby to "come here." They both stand up; he grabs his tuxedo jacket and puts it on with the Coat Flip (™ Martin Sheen) and says, "I know you're scared. I'm very confident. So you be whatever you want. Whatever happens, happens tomorrow. Tonight is your birthday party. And your earrings are great and so are your shoes" (™ Andrew Shepard). "So can we, for the love of God, get out of this room?" Abby asks Jed if it was good to get that off his chest. He says, "Yeah," and we have credits. And now, thanks to Glark, we know the lyrics for the opening theme. And in the name of all that is holy, I just spent an hour recapping less than three minutes. This promises to be a long night and then an even longer day.
Jed and Abby are walking down a long red carpet in a huge hallway lined with guards and agents of various sorts. He's regaling her with the menu: "Pheasant and morel consommé, miniature ravioli of foie gras and smoked goose confit, a little Canary melon sorbet as a palate cleanser, all served on the finest Lenox china." She asks if he planned this all himself. He rambles on about the wine as she repeats her questions. Jed: "I'm like Gatsby, but without the problems." If you say so, dude. As they approach the door to the party room, Abby expresses her hope that they're going to keep it relaxed tonight, and states that she's not up for a lot of "First-Lady fanfare" tonight. Well, he's in a tux and you're wearing a lavish, not to mention probably pretty expensive (and expansive) dress, so I don't know how low-key this party's going to be, given that there are two hundred guests...but hope springs eternal. Jed: "Hmm...I kinda wish you'd mentioned that before."
And the doors open and the brass band strikes up, and someone announces their entrance. Abby plasters on a smile as Jed assures her it's going to be relaxed. They walk in. Everyone applauds, cameras flash, and Jed mutters to her that they're having kumquat Napoleons for dessert. She mutters through her gritted teeth, "Shut up." I think Sorkin cuts up cookbooks and menus from pretentious restaurants and then fishes pieces of paper out of a hat to come up with these menu items.
Josh zooms over, with Amy in tow, to wish "Mrs. B." a happy birthday. He kisses Abby on the cheek, as does Amy. Jed also gives Amy a perfunctory smooch on the cheek. Jed and Josh do not kiss. Amy's wearing a white sleeveless dress with botanical motifs appliquéd in black sequins. It's...somewhat reminiscent of a certain era of drapes. What is with the dresses this week? ["That one, I liked." -- Wing Chun] Abby announces to Josh and Amy that she's "responsible for the two of them" (so now all you Amy haters know who to blame, as if Abby doesn't have enough problems) and thinks she should have gotten some credit for that. Josh: "Well, the jury's still out." Indeed. Sounds like it's hung. Abby expresses her hope that Donna's coming. Jed says she is: "All the women of the West Wing. We're doing a calendar." I guess they issue invitations by sex around this place. Josh doesn't know what's keeping Donna.
C.J.'s wandering around the West Wing. Do I even need to tell you she looks fabulous? She's wearing a sparkly beaded dress that could be gold, silver, gray, I don't know...hard to tell on this screen and with the usual lighting. One of those elusive evening neutrals. The best way to describe it is that it tones with the honey and brown shades in her hair. It has spaghetti straps and a very low-cut back (and Allison Janney has a stunning back) and is more or less painted on. She can certainly wear the hell out of evening clothes, although this isn't my favourite of her evening outfits; that honour would probably go to the red gown she wore in "Noel." (Or maybe the royal blue gown in which she told off Tad the Jerkwad. No, the red one.) The ends of her hair are flipped out instead of blown under, and it looks both cute and sophisticated. I wish my hair would look like that when I flip the ends out, but it just looks stupid on me. C.J. walks over to Leo, who's wearing a tux and standing by Margaret, who's in a sparkly halter-style evening gown, with her hair in an elaborate updo. NiCole Robinson has nice shoulders, which this dress shows off. Why can't they do justice by Stockard Channing? Leo asks C.J. to check out a rumour that a Robert Nolan, who is the Chairman of the New Hampshire State Medical Board, is going to recuse himself from Abby's hearing. C.J. wonders who the source is; Leo doesn't know the original source, but says it's coming from the Manchester Union Leader, and adds, "You gotta change taxicabs a couple of times 'cause I don't want the paper knowing we're asking questions." C.J. replies, "That's no problem. What's going on?" Leo just wants to confirm the story first; if it's true, they'll tell Jed about it. C.J. adds, "And one of us -- well, you -- need to talk to Abby tonight about tomorrow." Leo sighs, "Happy birthday, Abby."
As C.J. leaves Leo's office, she runs into Sam, also tuxedoed and looking very fine. ["Eh. I thought the jacket was kind of weird. It didn't look like it fit him right; made him look barrel-chested." -- Wing Chun] Sam points at C.J. and says, "Jack Enlow?" C.J. replies, "No, it's C.J. Cregg, we've met." She shakes his hand and Sam sarcastically says, "And laughed and laughed. Is Jack Enlow at the party yet?" C.J. says she's not at the party yet. Sam: "Fair point." She says, "Look, if you're planning on starting a rumble with Enlow, could I send the press home?" Sam says he's not an instigator. C.J. says he is. Sam: "Yeah, but I'm on the side of the angels." C.J. looks him up and down and says, "I'll say this about you: you can wear a tuxedo." Sam: "I know." C.J.: "I know you know."
Sam and C.J. part, and Sam goes into Leo's office, where Margaret is getting Leo to sign things. Leo asks, "Why is Dalton Millgate coming here?" Sam wonders how Leo knew. Leo asks, "How do you think?" Sam says, "Because you know everything?" Leo: "Yes." Sam explains that Millgate taught Sam for a semester at school; Millgate and his people are having trouble securing funding for a superconductor, and Sam is planning to put him in touch with Jack Enlow. Leo inquires, "You're going to get into a fight with Jack Enlow?" Sam: "Why does everybody think...never mind. I'm just doing him a favour." Leo says okay. Sam asks how Leo's feeling about FLOTUS. Leo: "I was feeling good. And now I'm not." He explains about Nolan's rumoured recusal. Sam thinks that Jed's going to want to call Nolan; Leo says Jed might. Sam insists Jed can't call; it could "send them into a whole new thing." Leo asks, "You ever mix politics and the President's family and get a good result?" Sam: "No." Leo: "Neither have I, and I've been at this a lot longer." Sam says okay. He adds, "Seriously, he can't pick up the phone." Leo asks, "Isn't it called a supercollider?" He points out Sam called it a superconductor. Sam's all, "Whatever." As Sam leaves, Leo advises him to "keep blood off [his] shirt." Sam insists he's not an instigator.
Josh (in a tuxedo, of course) walks down the hallway toward Donna and calls out her name. She's wearing a sleeveless long gown in a soft shade of red, sort of a dark raspberry mousse colour. I really like the colour, but it's a bit too much dress for her. Was there a three-yards-for- the-price-of-one fabric sale in Hollywood this week or something? Donna's hair is styled as usual, but I wish they'd put it up; I bet that would look good on her. Donna's walking around distributing documents; Josh asks what she's doing here. She asks, "Are you having a good time?" He says the party's started. Donna: "Is the champagne flowing as smoothly as the badinage? Are there elegant men 'n beautiful gowns?" Josh says the men are in tuxes. Donna indicates she said "and," not "in." Josh still wants to know why she's not at the party, distracting him from the monstrously annoying and immature yet utterly deserved partner he has in Amy. Donna explains that there was a problem when the Secret Service did its routine background check on the party guests. I'm sorry -- they re-check the White House staff 's background for each and every party? Well, if those were my tax dollars, I think I'd have something to say about that. Turns out there was a problem with Donna. Josh points out the blindingly obvious: that she works in the White House. Donna doesn't know what the problem is. Josh urges her to come to the party with him. He puts his hand lightly on her waist to urge her along. It doesn't stay there long, though, because Donna's bustling around. She doesn't think she should go: "They'll shoot me." A bit given to drama, our Miss Moss. She says she was told they'd get back to her. Josh asks, "Do you want me to get into it?" Donna says, "That'd be very nice." As he leaves, he says, "You look good." She thanks him.
Just beyond where Josh and Donna were talking, in the lobby, Sam walks up to Hector Elizondo, who must be playing Dr. Dalton Millgate. They shake hands, and Sam says it's been a long time. Millgate concurs. Sam remarks, "And now the student becomes the teacher, huh?" Dr. Millgate: "Not really, no." Sam retorts, "Well, I'm going to be President someday! POTUS told me so! So nyah nyah nyah!" No, he doesn't. But given some of the other dialogue in this episode, you could be forgiven if you were fooled for a moment.
Sam and Millgate walk toward Sam's office as Sam asks, "So, did I disappoint you when I didn't go into physics?" Millgate: "No. You were bad at it." Sam begs to differ. Millgate begs to differ. Sam says he just needed a little encouragement. Millgate thinks not. Sam says, a little testily, "Look, Congress isn't going to fund your damn superconductor, all right?" But I think he's joking. Millgate corrects him: "Supercollider. Superconducting supercollider. This is exactly what I'm talking about. A fifty-four-mile tunnel, 150 feet below ground, in which protons and anti-protons would be flung into each other at the speed of light." Cool. Millgate asks, "Can you remember that?" Sam can. Millgate: "Good, because when you talk about it, you shouldn't sound like an idiot." I get on the horn to Professor Frink, who's up to his ass in various project rollout-related alligators, to get the customized Physics for Dummies version of supercolliders. He sends along this little joke for y'all: An electron, a proton, and a neutron walked into a bar which had a sign, "All drinks $1.00." The electron said, "Hey guys, we only have $2.00 among the three of us." The proton said, "Don't worry, there's no charge for the neutron." The electron said, "Are you sure?" The proton answered, "I'm positive." I know, I know. He's at HaHa's in Cleveland on the 16th. Back to Millgate: "There's no lobby for this, Sam. There's no presence in Washington. It's just me on the Amtrak coming to see you. That's how seriously the government takes it!" Sam points out that Congress spent $2 billion on this already; Millgate indicates that all they did was clear the land and build the lab. "We need the thing...now is he there?" These particle physicists, they're never happy. Sam: "The Senator?" Millgate says yeah. Sam says he is. Millgate plants his butt and tells Sam to go talk to him. Sam says he will, but thinks Enlow will say that this is an "unaffordable luxury." Millgate states, "We're losing the race for discovery, Sam. For discovery. Tonight it's just me and you." Sam: "That doesn't really sound like enough." Millgate: "No." Sam leaves, asking what hotel Millgate's staying at. He's not. He's sitting there in Sam's office until he gets an answer. Frankly, if Millgate isn't going to talk to Enlow himself, why does he have to take a train to Washington to sit in Sam's office? It's not like he has to put Sam in a headlock to get him to do this for him. ["Contrivance must have bought Millgate's ticket and driven him to the station." -- Wing Chun] Sam argues that the West Wing is not like a drive-up window, but he doesn't get very far; the good doctor barks that Sam's wasting time. Sam takes off.
Back at the party, Abby's posing for pictures. Jed yells for Charlie, telling him that Jed will need Charlie later to work on Jed's toast. Charlie wonders if Jed wouldn't prefer Sam or Toby, but Jed indicates he doesn't need help writing it, he just wants to recite it to any warm body. Charlie, with perfect politeness and good humour: "Thank you, sir." Jed says when he gives Charlie the signal, they'll go off someplace. Charlie asks what the signal is. Jed replies, "It'll be something like, 'Charlie, we're gonna go work on the toast now.'" Charlie leaves as Leo arrives. Jed tells Leo, "I think Abby's going to pull a hamstring about tomorrow." Leo wonders if Jed minds if he speaks to Abby. Jed: "About what?" Leo kind of hedges: "You know, what she should be saying tomorrow." Jed says he's feeling all right about it. Well, isn't that ducky? Leo suggests "just in case." Jed glances around for Abby, muttering to Leo, "I don't know, she's pretty pissed." Leo: "Yeah, but at you, right?" Jed: "Yeah." He relents. Leo asks, "Did she like the fanfare?" Jed: "Loved it." He takes a sip of champagne as Leo wanders off. Jed turns around and looks at Abby, who's still posing for pictures, and putting up a hell of a social front. And it's time for the commercials.
Back at the party, the camera drifts around the room as music plays and people dance. Josh and Amy are picking at some food at a table when some guy comes up to Josh. As they shake hands, Josh says, "Chuck! I didn't know you were friends with the First Lady." Chuck indicates that it's his wife who knows her. Josh asks if Chuck knows Amy, and Chuck says (in a fairly neutral way): "Just by reputation." Amy, who only had the faintest and coolest of smiles on her puss in the first place, changes her expression to one of dull contempt and says, "Uh oh," in a rather snotty tone that reminds one all too readily of a high-school girl who thinks her faeces smell like flowers, or at least like Tommy Girl. Chuck says, "I thought you were great on Crossfire yesterday." Amy replies, in the same fairly snotty tone, "I don't think I was on Crossfire yesterday." Chuck says, "I meant Josh." Josh says, much more kindly than Amy obviously would have, "Actually, you meant Sam." Chuck says, "I heard it was you." Aha! But you thought you'd get away with your little bit of ass-kissing by saying "I thought" instead of "I heard" implying you'd seen it when you hadn't. Busted. Josh affably says, "No, but as long as you heard it was great." Amy slurps some champagne and stares at the guy as if she can't imagine why he hasn't yet vaporized under her glare. Chuck, growing more uneasy, asks if Josh still has his number "about the thing." Josh does. Chuck says to Amy that it was nice meeting her (liar, liar, pants on fire) to which Amy's response is a blink and a sort of lower-half-of-the-face-related-tic which I think is supposed to pass for a smile of acknowledgment. Josh says it was good seeing him.
Chuck vamooses. Amy asks, "'About the thing?' You guys pulling a heist?" Josh smirks and says no. Amy wheedles, "Come on, let me in on the action. I can be a dame." You so can't. "I won't blow the whistle, get you cheesed." "Get you cheesed"? As they start to walk, Josh says, "No, Mugsy, Chuck Kane heads Intergovernmental Affairs at Treasury and he wants a job on the campaign as Deputy Political Director." Amy asks if he's going to get it; Josh doesn't think so. Amy wants to know who else is being considered. Josh says, "Mark Rothman and Robbie Gill." Amy says, "Hmm. I was just thinking 'Mark' and 'Robbie' are funny names for women." ["Robbie could be a woman. Well, okay, only on Dawson's Creek, with Joey and Devon and Andie and...uh...that girl Jim." -- Wing Chun] Josh says they're men, as he grabs Amy to get her to dance with him, probably hoping that will avert the argument he can suddenly see coming. Amy says she knows. Josh says, "They happen to be men." Yeah, funny thing, that...how so many of the people in power just happen to be men. Weird. It's like an X-File. Amy tells Josh they're not hiring enough women in senior positions for the campaign. They dance, but it's the dance of the doomed: the relentless power-dating lobbyist and desperately immature, relationship-addled high-profile politico. Josh asks Amy how she knows. She says it's her job to know. Josh says they're in a dangerous area. Amy says, "If women were the only voters, Democrats would win in a landslide every time. If men were the only voters, the GOP would be the left-wing party." Well, I'm not sure it breaks down to quite that extreme a degree. "Women are going to be 60% of your vote. Don't you think they should make up, I don't know, 40% of the campaign staff?" Why set your sights so low? Josh: "Let me tell you why this is a dangerous area: because I can't make decisions based on the fact that I like your smooth skin." Oh, ick. Amy's silent for a moment and has a look on her face that is probably supposed to be reflective but comes across more as petulant and says, "You're right." Josh: "You're trying to trick me." Amy: "No, you're really right. This should be off-limits for us." And if you believe she thinks that, I have some Enron stock you'll be quite interested in. Amy apologizes and snuggles up. Josh: "You're trying to trick me." He stops dancing. She says she isn't. Josh: "I'm gonna be scared for the rest of the night." You're not the only one. Interestingly, Amy picks this moment to say, "Hey, what happened to Donna?" She sure knows how to play him. Josh is all, "Donna. Yes." He buzzes off immediately.
Josh runs into Leo, who asks where POTUS is. Josh says he and Charlie went off to work on the toast. Leo starts to say that he's going to need a few uninterrupted minutes with someone, but doesn't get to finish, because we hear John, Lord Marbury brightly exclaiming, "Gerald!" Leo: "Yeah." Marbury: "Gerald...old sock!" Josh: "Gotta go!" Leo: "Yeah." Leo makes a mental note for Josh's performance evaluation of his desertion in the face of lunatic Brit-ness.
Marbury: "Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House." If I'm smart, I'll just make a macro for that phrase right now. Leo walks along, asking John how he is. He says he's fine, but, "Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House." Leo, spotting his salvation: "Hang on...Toby!" Toby starts to walk over when he hears Leo's voice, and then sees Marbury and kind of stops in his tracks. He can tell there's no way out, but he just freezes there. Leo says, "You know Toby Ziegler." Marbury says they've met. Leo says, "Toby, come here." Toby does. Leo reintroduces Marbury and Toby (and Leo calls him "Lord John Marbury," instead of "John, Lord Marbury," but considering John calls Leo "Gerald," I don't think he has any right to complain). Toby: "Good evening, Your, uh, Lordship." Marbury stammers, "Uh, well, good evening, yes." Leo orders Marbury, "Talk to him about McGann," and takes off. All those struggling with delegation issues should study Leo McGarry.
Toby asks if Marbury has objections to McGann coming to the White House. Marbury: "My objections are irrelevant. I convey the objections of Her Majesty's Government." Toby: "Which are?" Marbury: "He's a terrorist." Toby: "Well, let's hang on a second: Sinn Féin is a political party; in fact, the oldest in Ireland." Marbury: "And the political wing of the IRA...a terrorist cell. You are honouring a man at your St. Patrick's Day dinner allied with car bombers and murderers of British soldiers, this not to mention Irish men, women, and children." Toby: "Yes, sir." Marbury continues, "And you're doing it to appease Democrats from New York City and Boston." Toby says McGann's not being honoured, he's only being invited. Marbury asserts, "He shouldn't be given a visa." Toby: "And I think we have to be careful how we use the word 'terrorist.'" Good God almighty. I howled so loud at this I thought my neighbours would call the police. That's rich, especially coming from the Toby of "Night Five." John snorts out a little sigh. Toby, struggling to establish some sort of more comfortable rapport: "Can I call you 'John'?" Marbury's reply: "I am John, Lord Marbury, Earl of Croy, Marquess of Needham and Dolby, Baronet of Brycey, England's Ambassador to the United States." I have the vague feeling there are some peerage errors there but I'll leave it to some Debrett's geek to figure it out. "And a terrorist is a terrorist even if he wears a green tie and sings 'Danny Boy.' Yes, you can call me 'John.'" Toby smiles and asks if Marbury feels like a drink, to which Marbury replies, "Does the Queen Mum have a monobosom?" No, he actually says he was looking for some Lagavulin, whatever that is. I don't drink, nor do I care. He then explains, "It's a sixteen-year-old islay, single malt." Toby: "I know Lagavulin." Marbury: "They usually have it here." Toby suggests that they go down the street: "The guy keeps a bottle there." Marbury's only too happy to follow the guy who knows where to get the right booze.
Sam enters as they leave, and calls out to Senator Jack Enlow, played by some HITG! I typically can't place. ["That would be Robin Thomas, last seen by me as Mr. Joan Allen in The Contender." -- Wing Chun] Sam extends his hand, introduces himself, and asks if the Senator has a moment. Enlow says he promised his wife a dance and seems anxious to get away from Sam. Sam insists it will only take a moment: "Believe it or not I have an eminent physicist in my office: Dr. Millgate, you've heard of him?" Sam says he was being asked about the supercollider, and he didn't have any answers. Enlow says it's dead. He adds, "As a Greek poet." There's a whole dead-writer theme going on here. Well, at least it's more subtle than the chess metaphor. Mind you, a two-by-four to the head is more subtle than the chess metaphor. Sam: "Well, I'm sure there are some poets alive in Greece someplace. Could you tell me how it died?" Enlow doesn't know. Sam: "Forgive me, sir, you're a ranking member of the authorizing subcommittee. How could you not know?" Enlow claims it was put on anonymous hold. Sam says that only applies to nominations. Enlow: "Apparently, you're wrong. Anyone can hold any bill for any reason." Sam doesn't understand: "You file an objection? How long does it last?" Enlow says, "Until the Senator loses or dies. All you have to do is tell your party's floor leader." Sam: "That's insane!" Enlow: "Says you." Sam: "I'm rubber and you're glue..." No, actually he says, "Senator, this isn't a duck hunter with a gripe in my office, it's Dalton Millgate. Now, who's blocking the damn supercollider?" Enlow: "To guess would compromise the spirit of the anonymous hold." Sam: "To tell me would compromise the spirit of autocratic obstructionism." Go, Sam! Enlow: "We're talking about the U.S. Senate, kid. We're the saucer that cools the coffee." Sam: "And the drain that swallows it, sir." I like it when Sam is politely snappy. Enlow tells Sam to check around, and that Enlow's on record as being in favour of it. Sam: "Thank God the hold's anonymous." Sam pauses. "It's you." Enlow: "Sam...you really care about the superconducting supercollider?" Sam: "I didn't before. It's a long night, and we're not done yet. Go dance with your wife."
Josh approaches Donna, who's in his office playing solitaire at his desk. He says "hi" kind of tentatively; Donna morosely says, "They covered the arrivals on the news. Everyone looked so nice. And happy." Josh says he brought her some food. Donna asks what's going on. Josh says he doesn't have all the answers, but "it's pretty weird so far." Josh explains that there's apparently an INS notation to her name indicating that she's not a U.S. citizen. Donna's incredulous and insists she's a U.S. citizen: "I was born in Minnesota, we moved to Wisconsin, now I live in Washington. What the hell happened?" Josh says there was a mistake and they're sorting it out. Donna points out that she's voted in every election and paid taxes as a citizen and has all her papers. Josh says it will just take a few more minutes. Donna: "You brought food?" Josh: "Olives." He takes a wad of napkin out of his pocket. Nice. Donna: "Go away." He starts to leave. Donna: "Give me the olives." He places the wad in front of her. She picks it open glumly. Mmm, linty olives.
Abby and her ninety-two yards of dress swish into Leo's office. Leo uses one of those poles the Tokyo subway guards use to cram people into the subway cars to jam Abby and her dress in there so he can join her. He looks grim. Abby says she'd like to wait until they know something for sure before they start planning. Leo says the first day's important: "What I'd like to do, for instance, is schedule a public event, show we're not scared." He also says she'll make a comment, but that they have to pay attention to her body language, too. Actually, I think John, Lord Lecher's got that covered, but whatever. Abby understands that; she asks, "What about the campaign?" Leo says, "I'm not going to tell a man's wife she can't campaign." Abby doesn't know what that means. Leo elaborates, "I think we can get a lot of use out of you in targeted Democratic areas. Big cities, evening fundraisers. We'll keep you out of the South." Where there's probably little sympathy for that whole stand-by-your-man thing. Huh? Are all their spin doctors asleep at the wheel or what? Abby wants to talk about this tomorrow. Leo wants to talk tonight; he says it's important. Abby says, "A lot of things are important." She gets up and leaves; as she reaches the door, Leo says, "I'm sorry. Enjoy the party." She turns and gives him a bright smile: "Thank you." She swishes off. With the dress gone, Leo can risk exhaling. He stands there, his right hand fidgeting.
Out on the portico, Jed's trying out material on Charlie. "I've known my wife, Abby, for nearly 150 years." Jed decides Abby won't think that's funny and that he won't say that. Charlie gets behind that. Jed tries another gambit, one involving the history of the word "toast." Charlie gently suggests, "I'd stick to Mrs. Bartlet and not get into etymology so much." Jed says he was talking to Charlie. Jed says the Stuarts would put a piece of toast in a wine cup to improve the flavour. Charlie: "Interesting." Not very. As C.J. approaches, Jed blathers that in 1643, the members of the Middle Temple toasted Princess Elizabeth by pledging to die in her service. No doubt Marbury'd pledge as much to her successor if it was an excuse to swill back some more booze. Charlie: "Hey, that could be the button." C.J. arrives, Charlie is dismissed, and C.J. delivers the rumoured news about Nolan. Jed: "No, dammit." He explains that they were pretty sure that the board was evenly divided and that Nolan was the swing vote, "which was what dictated a lot of her...dammit!" Leo approaches. Jed says that Abby worked with Nolan for twenty years and that Jed was the Governor who appointed him to the board. Leo says, "Excuse me, sir." Jed tells C.J. she should tell Abby, and C.J. leaves. Jed tells Leo about Nolan, which of course he already knows. Leo asks, "What's going to happen?" Jed says they'll suspend Abby's license for a year. Leo indicates that he and Abby just talked for a bit. Jed: "And?" Leo: "I don't think you need to be concerned about her leaving you for me." Jed: "I was pretty concerned about that." Leo: "She's definitely leaving you for somebody, so don't be so..." Jed: "Can you leave me alone? I'm trying to be a husband and your mojo's getting all over me." Yeah, thanks for loading me up with that image. Also: "Mojo"? Leo says that Marbury's sitting with Toby. Jed asks if that's about Brendan McGann, adding that he doesn't know what to say about that. Leo says he'll see Jed inside. Jed says yeah. He stands there cogitating in profile.
After the commercials, there's a shot of Abby's birthday cake, which clearly shows her name spelled wrong: "Abbey." I wouldn't want to be that baker. ["Actually, that's how her name is spelled officially, according to the IMDb and NBC.com, but it's a stupid spelling, and we reject it." -- Wing Chun] Abby calls out to Josh, who's Amy-less at the moment, and says she's sorry to do this at a party, but hands him a list of names she'd like him to consider for Deputy Political Director. I say they should get Winnie, the Sassy Intern or her older sister, Oleanna the Temp (™ Sobell). Josh hesitantly says that they've got the list down to a few finalists. Abby's all, "Yeah, I'd like you to add these names." Josh says he can't help noticing that they're all women. Abby: "Women are 60% of our vote, Josh. Don't you think they should make up at least 40% of our campaign staff?" Again, why the low sights? Why not 50 or 60%? What's with the fixation on forty? Just then C.J. comes up behind Josh. Josh: "I'm sorry?" Abby starts to repeat her question, to which Josh replies in the affirmative. Abby asks if Josh will get on it, and he says, "Yes, ma'am." She asks if he's having a good time, and he replies, "You bet." He leaves. C.J. moves closer, and Abby says she looks beautiful. Which is true. C.J. says the same, of course. She gently tells Abby the bad news about Nolan. Abby's face crumples a bit, but she holds it together and after a brief pause, she says, "Claudia Jean, let's get drunk." Abby swishes off. C.J. stands there for a second: "Oh...okay." Jed, send the kids to the neighbours. She's coming home loaded.
Josh walks over to where Amy's sitting, and tosses Abby's list in front of her. Amy says, "Hey, it's a list of women. She got right on it." Josh: "Yes, she did." Amy: "Do you love me?" Josh: "You went over my head and you did it behind my back." Amy glances at his nether regions, or possibly the floor, and says, "Quite the contortionist am I." Somebody's been hanging out at Ainsley's Academy of Atypical Syntax. Josh complains, "What kind of position is Abby Bartlet in to know anything..." Just then Abby walks up: "Amy!" Josh stands up; Amy doesn't. Not sure about the protocol of this; I would expect they should both stand, but there's probably some anachronistic rule about men having to stand for FLOTUS but women not being required to do so. I'll get right on researching that. Or maybe Amy's simply as arrogant as Dr. Jenna. Amy responds, staring at Josh, "Yes, ma'am?" Abby announces, "C.J. and I are going to get drunk. Come on." Amy: "Yes, ma'am." She gets up, grabbing her glass and a bottle and Josh says, "You're going?" Amy: "The First Lady just asked me to get boozy with her. You don't think I want to write a book one day?" I just bet you do. Josh's pager goes off. C.J. collects glasses and bottles behind Amy, and the two of them trot off.
Sam returns to his office, where Dr. Millgate's smoking a cigar. Sam, alarmed, informs him that he's not allowed to smoke in the White House. Millgate: "You're kidding. And the search for civilization continues." Good luck with that, Smokey. As Sam leads Millgate outside, Sam says he needs the good doctor to tell him everything he knows about the superconducting supercollider. Millgate wants to know how much time Sam's got. Sam: "About ten minutes." Millgate: "If you pay close attention and stay very, very quiet, I can teach you how to spell it."
Sam and Millgate are outside now; Sam says: "Listen, this is what I do: I get things fast." Millgate: "Since when?" Maybe you should drop the arrogant know-it-all act with the only person who's interested in helping you. I'm just saying. Sam: "What is it?" Millgate: "It's a machine that reveals the origins of matter." Sam says nothing. Millgate: "I'm assuming from the look on your face, a thousand dollars on the table, you couldn't tell me what matter is." Sam: "You know what? I had four years, there's a lot of knowledge out there, I may have missed some things." Millgate: "By smashing protons together at very high speeds and at very high temperatures, we can recreate the Big Bang in a laboratory setting..." Cool. Will it be like that Hallowe'en episode of The Simpsons where Lisa created life? Subatomic particles, that's science fair pay dirt. Millgate continues, "...creating the kinds of particles that only existed in the first trillionth of a second after the universe was created." Sam: "Okay, terrific! I understood that. What kind of practical applications does it have?" This is starting to sound like numerous conversations I've had with Frink. Millgate: "None at all." He walks away a bit. Sam: "You're not in any way a helpful person." Well, he's a teacher, what do you expect? Millgate: "Don't have to be; I have tenure." Snerk. He adds, "There are no practical applications, Sam! Anybody says different is lying!" Sam says he needs to be able to paint Enlow as being against something, anything: "Children, baseball, fresh air, campaign finance...what does it mean to be against the supercollider?" Millgate doesn't know where to start. Sam presses him. Millgate asks Sam what his motivation is. Sam is confused; Millgate called Sam. Millgate says, "Well, you did me the favour, now you're still going." Sam admits he has a history with this particular Senator. Millgate replies, "Oh, well, that's really a stupid-ass reason, Sam." Sam: "I like to win." Millgate: "So this guy ate your Froot-Loops™...." Sam asks why Millgate cares. Millgate doesn't. Sam asks what his motivation is. Millgate: "I'm a particle physicist." Sam: "Not suddenly. Why now?" As he walks up to Sam again, Millgate explains the budget resolution has to be passed by April 15, which means the authorizing bill has to go out mid-March. "Now, you can shoehorn a road or a bridge at the last minute, but not twelve billion for a supercollider. Also, I have non-Hodgkins lymphoma." Sam is stunned into silence. Millgate walks away again, puffing on his cigar. ["WEAK. We're never going to see this character again, probably -- why should we give a rat's ass if he has cancer? And why can't his motivation be that he's a fan of pure science? What, is cancer what Sorkin settled on after he thought introducing a cuddly puppy somehow would be too maudlin? Weak." -- Wing Chun]
Drinks are being poured for Toby and John at the bar they've gone to. Toby: "I think there's something to be said for giving McGann credibility by inviting him to the White House. It strengthens his hand in dealing with the more violent members of his own party." Marbury: "Degrees of violent." Toby: "We also think if we legitimize him, the Protestants will wake up and accept they've got to negotiate with somebody." Marbury: "Toby, you were the author, were you not, of the President's speech at the General Assembly?" Well, at least someone other than me seems to remember that. Toby hedges: "There were many authors." Marbury: "Of which you were one. Two days ago, the IRA formally backed out of its promise to put its weapons beyond use as agreed to in the Good Friday Peace Accord. True/false: until it disarms, the IRA and its political representatives in Sinn Féin are a terrorist group?" Toby: "True." Marbury: "When did it become policy of the United States to negotiate with terrorists?" Dear God, this show is just one endless provocation to me. I'll just quote activist scholar Eqbal Ahmad: "The terrorist of yesterday is the hero of today, and the hero of yesterday becomes the terrorist of today." My God, ever heard of the Irgun? The Stern Gang? Deir Yassin? Toby replies, "We've had Arafat here, John." Oh, that's rich, too. Here's another quote: "Neither Jewish ethics nor Jewish tradition can disqualify terrorism as a means of combat." You know who wrote that? Yitzhak Shamir. Somehow both he and Begin were both sufficiently rehabilitated to find a warm welcome in Washington. Goddammit, I'm so fed up with this hypocritical, bigoted, historically ignorant crap. I'd love to see Aaron Sorkin honestly address, just as an example, the history and reality of Israeli and/or Jewish terrorism. (Yeah, I'll hold my breath.) He should at least read up on it, for God's sake, and stop writing such ignorant, offensive storylines. "See the whole board," indeed. This is not what we need at this time in history. He's got an audience of twenty or thirty million people. It matters whether or not he propagates nonsense and ignorance. You can't claim to raise the level of debate and purport to educate people when it suits you, and then hide behind "we're just doing our little stories and lame jokes" when it gets complicated. Sorry, you can't have it both ways.
In response to Toby's comment about Arafat, John snipes, "And my heavens, isn't that paying bloody dividends!" Toby: "It wasn't worth trying?" John: "You're making the mistake of youth." Toby: "The President's not a kid." John: "Your country is. You're involving yourself in a centuries-old conflict without sufficient regard for history. Listen to the warning of old friends. It was Kipling who warned to expect 'the blame of those ye better, and the hate of those ye guard.'" Toby: "And wasn't it James Joyce who said, 'History is a nightmare from which I'm trying to awake'?" Much like me and these storylines. Marbury thinks and serves up: "Yes, but it was your own great Irish master, Eugene O'Neill, who said, 'There is no present or future, only the past happening over and over again -- now.'" And how. I'm with O'Neill. Toby asks, "You're saying we should butt out of Ireland until we know what we're doing?" Marbury: "I'm saying Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House." Toby sighs and says, "Speaking of dead Irish writers...." (Well, Joyce, anyway, since Kipling was born in Bombay -- under British rule -- and lived in Britain.) Marbury: "Yes, another drink." 'Cause, you know, that's how those Irish writers end up dead; they drink themselves into the grave. I can't imagine how tiresome I would find it to be Irish and to have my nationality so insistently linked in the minds of North Americans with nothing but alcohol and terrorism. Oh yeah, and leprechauns. (Well, actually, given my experiences in the Muslim community, maybe I do have a wee inkling.)
Anyway, Abby and I are on the same page: "Jed got censured and that came with no tangible penalty, and it was a banner headline, he's having a slow nervous breakdown." C.J. says that was different. Abby: "Why?" C.J.: "'Cause it is and you know it." Translation: Because Jed's a man. Abby: "Okay, I'm First Lady again." C.J. says okay. Amy: "You are First Lady, Abby, and it's not like it's been a detour from health care." Abby: "No." Amy: "What, you've expanded Medicare to cover mammograms, cancer clinical trials, that's money that could have gone into Viagra. You were the one who said 'no dice' to cutting infant nutrition programs, nursing-home standards..." C.J.: "There's plenty of stuff left..." Amy: "Childhood immunizations, juvenile diabetes..." Abby, almost tearful, says, "That's not the point." Amy: "What is the point?" Abby: "I'm a doctor." Donna, who clearly knew what she was talking about when she said she shouldn't drink, blurts, "Oh, Mrs. Bartlet, for crying out loud, you were also a doctor when your husband said 'give me the drugs and don't tell anybody' and you said 'okay.'" Abby looks at her, stunned. Everyone's silent. Donna looks horrified, glances at C.J., and says, "Oh, my God. You switched back to First Lady." Abby says it's all right. Donna: "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bartlet." Amy says, "He took the censure standing up, Abby. I was very proud to have voted for him that day." Abby: "Me, too." Donna looks like she's really hoping that dot-com job is still open. Abby gets up and suggests they go back to the party. They all swish (or stagger) out.
The camera drifts down from the circular window in the room above the portico to the portico itself, where Charlie and Jed are rehearsing the toast. Charlie tells Jed that time's running short. Jed claims that's when the juices get flowing. Jed suggests telling the story of the ditch digger, which is basically a rehash of a Bill & Hillary story: "Abby and I are walking along and we see a ditch digger. And I said, 'Aren't you glad you married me? You could have married a ditch digger.' And she said, 'Jed, if I'd married him, he'd be President.'" Charlie's not so sure; Jed wants to know why. Charlie: "'Cause it seems like a story about how cool you are." Jed says it is. Seems more like a story about how ambitious/pushy Abby is, but whatever. Charlie asks, "Do you love her?" Jed: "Very deeply." Charlie says that'll work fine. Jed says it won't: "In my house, anyone who uses one word when they could have used ten just isn't trying hard. Let's keep at it." Charlie glances slyly at his watch.
Back at the Hawk and Dove, Marbury says, "The darkness in our sunshine, the shadow on our souls, the biblical sins of the father...for Americans, it's slavery. Slavery is your original sin -- that, and your unfortunate history with your aborigines." Yes, it's a sparkling record other than those two little blots. Toby: "Native Americans." Dude, where were you during "The Indians in the Lobby"? John: "For the English, it's Ireland." Toby's puffing on a stogie and says, "Well, they've given us a couple of U.S. Presidents, a lot of Boston Democrats, and half the New York City police force." Well, Erin go bragh! It's not just hooch and bombs. And leprechauns. Marbury: "Not to mention the song 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.'" He pauses. "Centuries of home rule, foiled by English conservatives or Ulster Orangemen...immortal martyrs...secret tribunals leading to public hangings, followed by war....followed by...followed by...followed by...." Toby: "So wouldn't you say we were doing you a favour?" John: "By intervening?" Toby argues, "That's the act of a friend. What is left to do but talk? What could be better for that wounded place than sitting down and talking? What is better than sitting down and talking?" Marbury: "Not to talk to Brendan McGann." Toby: "We can't choose who." Marbury: "Oh, of course you can't." Toby: "Then what can we do but talk to him?" Marbury: "Nothing. You must talk to him." Toby's all, wuh? Marbury: "Toby, despite appearances, I do have...lucid moments, and I know that England is running out of turns on this particular...but uh, as Ambassador for Her Majesty's Government I must tell you that...." Toby: "Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House." John: "Yes." Toby: "Understood, Mr. Ambassador." John takes a drink, and pronounces it excellent. Toby takes a big puff and his face disappears behind a big stinky cloud of smoke as he exhales. Marbury leaves.
Back in Sam's office. Millgate gripes: "FDR smoked." Sam says yeah. Millgate: "In the White House, Campobello, everywhere." Sam knows. Millgate says FDR got re-elected six or seven times. Sam asks, "Listen, is there no doctor you can see?" Just then Enlow busts in, saying, "time the Bartlets invite me over to a party, remind me to bring five legislative assistants and a loaded gun." Sam says, "You got my note." Enlow reads: "'All infrastructure projects earmarked for Illinois are about to be anonymously blocked.'" Sam stands up and says, "Let's play our game." Enlow: "Don't make me mad." Sam: "Don't make me laugh." Enlow: "Listen..." Sam: "I couldn't figure out what this on the record/off the record crap was until Dr. Millgate...this is Dr. Millgate, by the way..." Enlow glances at Millgate, who says, "Churchill smoked." So did Al Capone. So does Fidel Castro. Big damn deal. Sam continued, "Until Dr. Millgate told me the thing was going to be built in Illinois. So of course you have to be for it on the record. But off the record, it crowds out all the pork you've got your eye on, like the Senator Enlow Off-Ramp Rest Stop, Hotel and Casino." Enlow says, "Don't send me notes anymore." He walks out.
Millgate: "Sam, screw the Froot Loops™." Sam calls Enlow back and apologizes for his tactics and his behaviour. Enlow accepts. Sam says the subcommittee should be hearing learned testimony on this. Enlow replies, "I'm a Democrat, Sam. How's a twenty-billion-dollar astronomy lecture going to help the President get elected?" Sam says it won't: "'We've discovered a seamless intellectual framework for the universe' isn't a good thirty-second spot." Enlow says, "If we could only say what benefit this thing has...no one's been able to do that." Millgate mutters, "That's because great achievement has no road map. The x-ray's pretty good. So's penicillin. And neither were discovered with a practical objective in mind. I mean, when the electron was discovered in 1897, it was useless. And now we have an entire world run by electronics. Haydn and Mozart never studied the classics -- they couldn't. They invented them." Sam says, "Discovery." Millgate: "What?" Sam carefully explains to Enlow that what this thing is good for is discovery. No kidding. The problem is no one really cares about that. Enlow says that even if the thing passed the Senate, it's dead in the House. Sam replies, "Just as long as democracy's not dead in the Senate." Enlow says he'll withdraw his anonymous hold. Sam: "'Cause you're scared of my threat?" Sam desperately wants to be able to threaten somebody, anybody, convincingly. Enlow says yes. Sam bounces up and down with glee. Millgate smirks to himself. Enlow tells him, "You think I was a hurdle? Good luck with the Appropriations Committee." He leaves; Sam calls out "Thank you" as Enslow goes. Millgate says that wasn't so hard. Sam says he has to get to the party, although no one seems to be missing him. Millgate says he's got to get a train. Sam says they can get him a room. Millgate doesn't want one. Sam wonders if there isn't someplace that can help him...Sloan-Kettering, or something. Millgate says no. Sam lets it go. Millgate thanks him. Sam asks, "Now you think I'd make a good physicist?" Millgate says, "No. But you're not bad for government help."
Back at the party, C.J., Abby, and Amy are standing beside a table. C.J. has her hand lightly to her head. Guess she's had enough of the giggle juice. They're not talking, just staring ahead listening to the music. Donna comes up behind Abby and apologizes again for what she said earlier. Abby tells her not to worry about it: "You were good. I've got a surprise for you coming up." Just then Josh comes up, and starts to talk to Donna. Then he stops, excuses himself for a moment, turns, and talks to Amy. She looks over her shoulder petulantly, saying, "Yes?" Josh says, quietly, "I understand, and I forgive you." Amy: "You forgive me?" Josh: "Yes." Amy: "What the hell kind of thing..." Abby sharply says, "Honey!" Amy, apparently Abby's lapdog now, insincerely says, "Thank you for forgiving me, Josh. I appreciate that." She adds "Jackass" under her breath. Abby chuckles merrily.
Josh then turns around to look for Donna again, to tell her, "You're an American again. INS has a grandfather clause. If you pass a three-part literacy test, an American History exam, and fill out a one-page form, you're back." Donna says, "My adopted country." Abby says, "Oh, Josh, I kind of wish you'd mentioned this before." Josh asks why. The band stands up and strikes up "O Canada." Two huge Canadian flags are hoisted aloft as Donna says, "Wow!" Abby says, "You were very good in there, Donna." Jed zips over wondering, fairly loudly, what the hell is going on. Abby turns around and shushes him. Jed complains, "I was gone forty-five minutes! They were all Americans when I left." Donna says, "I know exactly how you feel, Mr. President."
Jed extends his hand to Abby and leads her away. He tells her he called Nolan. "I know I shouldn't have, but I'm sorry, the rules are different when it comes to my family and there isn't a man in America who doesn't understand that. ["Just ask Kiefer." -- Deborah] ["Even Kiefer knows, and he's Canadian." -- Wing Chun] I also think partiality isn't a vice in this case. He knows you, and that's a good thing. He's going to consider not recusing himself." Abby drops her bombshell: "I'm going to voluntarily forfeit my license for the duration of our stay in the White House." What? What? Certainly she should accept the decision of the board, as long as it's reasonable; but why should she sacrifice her career for five more years when that's five times as long as she probably would have lost her license otherwise? Sure, she's stepping up and accepting a penalty, as did Jed, and that's great. It's the right thing to do, and a tasty way to do it. Why she's going out of her way to expand it, to fall on her sword more than necessary, I have no idea. Jed certainly didn't accept any more penalty than necessary.
Everyone starts singing the lyrics to "O Canada" as Jed takes this in. It's a good few lines before he says, "Okay," the real cost of his decisions and his selfish actions and yes, his deceit, finally sinking into him. All of this is only barely in the script, but Stockard Channing and Martin Sheen are skilled enough to sell it. He says he's going to do a toast in a minute and tell the ditch story. "But I wanted to say that I love you very much." Yeah, that'll fix it. Abby has quite a mixture of emotions on her face as she finally says, "I love you too, Jethro." Jed: "Don't call me that." She has tears in her eyes as she says, "I think I will." And then we hear Marbury bellow "Abigail!" again. Abby delivers her line perfectly: "Lord! John!" He walks up and says, "May I grasp your breasts?" Jesus. Also: Is it customary to walk around talking and indeed, bellowing, never mind making sexual advances on the First Lady, during the playing of a country's national anthem? Or is it only the American anthem that gets shown respect? It's not like the band is playing "I'm Too Sexy." Whatever. Jed points out, "I'm standing right here." You know, the landlord of those great tracts of land. Abby says John can kiss her cheek. No, let's not even go there. Leo comes up and says, "Abby?" She walks over closer to Leo, with Lord Lush and Jethro tagging along, and Leo kisses her on the cheek and wishes her a happy birthday. They're still singing "O Canada." A bunch of other people raise their glasses and wish her a happy birthday, too. Yeah, many happy returns of the day there, Mrs. B.