By Deborah
Previously on The West Wing: Toby danced the tarantella all over that line you're not supposed to cross with the President.
It's Friday, at 10:05 PM. Adam Arkin, reprising his role as Dr. Stanley Keyworth, waits in the lobby. Josh comes out and greets him. Stanley says he's fine. Josh takes Stanley's coat and briefcase to Josh's office. Stanley wonders whether he should go with Josh, but Josh says he'll be right back. He zips out to his office and returns. Stanley asks where they should go. Josh inquires as to whether Stanley's ever seen the White House. Stanley: "Just the little I saw when we talked last year." Josh instructs Stanley to follow him, as he points out the Communications bullpen, mentioning that it's where Toby Ziegler and Sam Seaborn work, and the rest of the Communications staff work in the OEOB. As Josh turns down a hallway, Sam is coming along. Josh: "And here comes the actual Sam Seaborn. What's going on?" Sam replies, "Leo's reading it, and we're going to send it in about ten, fifteen minutes, so Toby's banging around." Sam says he's banging around, too. Josh introduces Sam to Stanley. They shake hands, and Sam asks Stanley whether he saw anyone he knew on the plane. He didn't.
Sam takes off, and Josh continues the tour, pointing out Leo's office, and the fact that it has a private entrance to the Oval Office; Josh then leads Stanley toward the Oval Office. Stanley remarks that his driver asked him the same question -- whether he knew anyone on the plane. Josh and Stanley go into the Oval Office, and Josh says, "That's the Resolute Desk. It was built from timbers of the HMS Resolute and given to Rutherford Hayes ["ancestor of Ainsley?" -- Deborah] by Queen Victoria to thank the U.S. for finding the abandoned ship." Josh then says that they're going to go to the Residence, but that Josh is going to take Stanley through the portico. Stanley asks Josh if he wouldn't like to sit someplace and talk. Josh says yeah. Stanley asks, "Why the tour?" Josh asks if Stanley doesn't think it's interesting. Stanley claims it's fascinating, but.... Josh says that if anyone sees them, he wants it to look like he's giving Stanley a tour. Stanley's puzzled, but tags along as Josh goes outside onto the portico. Stanley asks, "Who built the White House?" Josh says it was designed by an Irish architect named James Hoban who won the job in an open competition: "And it was built largely by slaves." Imagine that. "They just found the pay receipts a few years ago," adds Josh. Stanley's confused: the slaves were paid? Josh clarifies that it was their owners who were paid. Naturally.
Josh takes Stanley into the Residence as he tells him, "It wasn't until Buchanan was visited by Edward, Prince of Wales, that he decided there wasn't enough room for guests, but it took another forty years to move all the office space out of the Residence. You're really seeing something, Stanley. Tours don't go up into the second floor of the Mansion." Stanley wonders whether it's really okay that he's there. Josh assures him it is, and then takes him into the President's private study. Stanley still seems mystified, and then asks if they should close the door. Josh: "Nah, that's all right." They both stand there, and Stanley asks Josh how he's been feeling. Josh says, "Good."
Just then, Leo arrives and greets Stanley. Leo wonders whether Josh showed Stanley the soot stains on the North Portico. Leo explains, "From when the British torched the place." Opened a can of whoop-ass, they did. Stanley's surprised to learn they've never repainted it. Leo tells him, "When Dolly Madison heard the cannon fire, she evacuated the building, but she already had the table set for a forty-person dinner party. So the British soldiers ate, and then set the building on fire." Stanley remarks that the food didn't go to waste. Finally, the history lesson ends. Josh gives Leo a significant look, and Leo asks Stanley about his flight, and whether he knew anyone on the plane. Stanley glances at Josh, and then says, "You didn't bring me here to talk to Josh, did you?" Leo says no. "Who did you bring me here to talk to?" POTUS is behind him at the door, saying, "Dr. Keyworth?" Stanley turns and sees Jed, who is wearing a dark red sweater and jeans, and who gently asks, "Did you know anyone on the plane?" Credits.
Stanley says he didn't know anyone on the plane. Leo and Josh take their leave; as they pass Jed in the doorway, he asks, "The speech is going out?" Leo tells him it is, in a few minutes. Jed closes the door.
Jed and Stanley each say their names, and then Jed says, "I guess we knew that." Jed cuts to the chase: "I've been having trouble sleeping." Me too. Stanley: "I'm sorry?" Lord, me too. Jed mutters that it's an election year, and that it wouldn't normally be any big deal for the President to talk to a doctor if he were having trouble sleeping, but what with the MS and the censure and the fact that Stanley's a shrink, it's all a bit touchy. Stanley gets it. He refrains from telling Jed he's not talking to the paperboy. He points out he's a trauma specialist, not an expert in sleep disorders. Jed knows. He knows Stanley helped Josh. Stanley says Josh was shot. Bartlet: "Me too." Stanley: "Is that why you can't sleep?" Jed: "How would I know?" Stanley thinks that's a fair point.
Jed sits down. Stanley asks Jed to describe the nature of his problem. Jed: "I can't sleep." Stanley: "What happens when you try to sleep?" Jed: "I stay awake." Thank God we've nailed that down. Jed says he hasn't slept in four nights. Stanley wonders if Jed's tried taking a sleeping pill. He did, the third night. It didn't work until the middle of a security briefing the morning. Me, I think that might just have been the meeting. Stanley: "That's no good." Jed gets up to get a cigarette and says, "Stanley, I think you've been underselling yourself as an expert on sleeping disorders, 'cause you've been right straight on the money so far." Stanley asks how many cigarettes a day Jed smokes. Jed says, "Not many." Stanley points out that nicotine can interfere with sleep. Jed says it never has before. Stanley suggests it could be doing so now. Jed asks, "You think if I put this out I'm going to fall asleep?" Yeah, that's what he's saying. Stanley says no. Jed wants to move on. As Jed opens an armoire containing a TV and turns it to a closed-circuit channel featuring C.J. in the Briefing Room, Stanley manages to rule out arthritis, heartburn, irregular breathing, and periodic muscle contractions as possible physical causes. Jed mentions he's at the UN on Monday. C.J. is being asked about when the reporters will get to see copies of the speech. Jed mutters, "When we're done writing it."
As we fade from the study to the briefing room, C.J. tells the press corps that they will get copies of the speech Sunday night. A reporter asks whether the State Department has reviewed it. C.J. expects their reviews any minute, assures reporters that they'll see it Sunday night, and calls a full lid. As the room clears, a bespectacled fellow comes up to C.J. and tells her he's missing a reporter. Kind of odd coincidental timing on this subplot, since it's only two weeks since U.S. reporter Daniel Pearl was kidnapped in Pakistan (and as of this writing, it is not known whether he is dead or alive). The fellow -- I'm assuming he's an editor -- says the missing reporter is Bill Price. C.J. asks, "Isn't Billy in the Congo?" The editor confirms this. C.J. gets the guy to come with her. He explains that Price has missed his last two deadlines, and has never missed a deadline once in seven years. ["Maybe he's just pulled a Greta Van Susteren, getting so much plastic surgery that he's virtually unrecognizable." -- Wing Chun] C.J. asks, "What does State say?" The editor says because it's Friday night, he's having trouble finding people. He says he's talked to the embassy in Kinshasa and they're becoming involved, but "this is the Congo." The editor thinks Price left the capital. C.J. asks, "Without written permission from the Ministry?" The editor wonders how Price would know he needed that. C.J. says, "By reading State background notes." The editor asks, "Does that sound like Billy?" C.J. says no. The editor: "The first fifteen minutes, they're the most critical in a war-zone abduction." C.J. knows. I'm thinking that if this guy's already missed two deadlines, the good ship Fifteen Minutes has sailed. The editor muses, "If we could get him delivered to someone higher up...." C.J. says she'll talk to Leo. The editor acknowledges that Billy's been a thorn in the side of the Bartlet administration throughout its existence, but that Billy has a wife and three kids, and the editor hopes the White House can forget about any animosity that may exist. C.J. doesn't care about any of that, and she's going to try to help, but since he's missed two deadlines, his fifteen minutes were yesterday. The editor knows. C.J. advises calling Price's wife. She takes off.
Leo's office. Leo is reading. Toby paces nervously in front of Leo's desk. Leo says, "I should be able to at least fire paintballs at you while you do that." No, wait, different show, different recap. Leo just mentions the pacing in an impatient tone of voice. Toby stops and just stands in front of Leo's desk. Leo tries to go back to reading and then says, "Okay, now the standing still is bothering me a little bit." What a fussbudget. Toby glares a bit, makes a sort of fine-what-would- you-like-me-to-do gesture, and then sits down, rubs his forehead, and comments, "This is the fifth time you're reading it. Are there words in there you don't understand?" Wow, somebody certainly is secure in his job. Leo just takes his glasses off and looks at him, all Leo-like. Toby mumbles, as he fidgets with his tie, "Of course there wouldn't be, because you can't rise to a position like yours without..." He gets up and paces some more, arguing that the speech embodies exactly the approach they agreed to take -- that they're tired of being criticized for the President's scattershot foreign policy...he keeps rambling, but Leo gently interjects that he thinks it's great. Toby seems vaguely surprised. Leo adds, with mild but ill-concealed pleasure, "You know your wife's going to have something to say about it, though." Toby states, "My ex-wife. Why do you call her my wife?" Leo: "It bothers you." Toby: "Everything bothers me." This is why Toby and I are soulmates. Well, until Act II, anyway. Toby: "But you pick that?" Leo, without apology: "Yeah." Toby just kind of looks annoyed. Leo asks about what he and POTUS discussed the night of the Iowa caucus. Toby says it was nothing. Leo says that Jed seemed kind of upset about it. Toby says it didn't go well, and that it was personal. Leo thinks POTUS always loves personal discussions. I'm a little surprised that Jed didn't tell Leo more about it; it seems like he would have. Toby asks what Jed thinks about the speech. Leo seems very surprised to be asked this, and says that Jed thinks it's great: "He hasn't said anything to you?" Toby says they haven't talked in a little while. Leo wonders just what the hell went on; Toby tells Leo not to worry about it. Leo says he's going to read the speech again. Toby comments that it will be the sixth time, and leaves, finding C.J. waiting outside to talk to Leo. As they pass each other in the doorway, Toby asks if she's read it. She says it's great. As she closes the door, she adds, "Someone's going to get an ass-kicking from the missus." Toby starts to object loudly, but she just closes the door. Sadly, that is all the C.J.-Toby interaction we get for this episode. Sigh. But don't worry; they still love each other. Plus, we get to see him with his ex-wife, and that's usually good for some chemistry. Andy and Toby are very believable both as a past couple, and as a divorced couple now.
Leo tells C.J. the speech is what they asked for: "We're going to have to get ready for it, though." C.J. says that something else has come up, and explains that Leonard Wallace just told her about Bill Price being missing in the Congo; she mentions that Leonard hasn't gotten anywhere with State. Leo looks appropriately dismayed. C.J. continues, "The embassy in Kinshasa confirmed that a Belgian TV crew shooting outside Goma saw an American captured by MaiMai rebels." Leo asks, "Hasn't State had a travel advisory out for, like, ten years?" Apparently it's actually been twenty-four years. Leo: "What the hell is he doing there?" C.J.: "Reporting a story no one is paying attention to." And while we're on it: thank God for the courageous people -- writers, journalists, photographers, and so on -- who try to cover and relate some of the thousands and thousands of important but ignored stories. Leo suggests speaking with the Congolese attaché. C.J. indicates he's on his way. She leaves.
Toby returns to the bullpen, telling Sam, "He liked it. He liked it a lot. Mostly what I wrote. Not so much what you wrote." Sam is unruffled by this. Moreover, he asks Toby, "So, how long do you think before the old lady comes by to give you a whooping?" The old lady? Nice talk. Toby asks if her office has already called. Sam, with evident delight: "You bet, baby." I think Sam is channelling somebody. Exactly who, I'm not sure. But...this is not Sam talking. Austin Powers, maybe. Toby sighs and advises, "You probably want to rethink calling me 'baby,' right?" He goes into his office. Sam chuckles, "Yeah."
Just then, Sam notices Ainsley flouncing in, wearing a long, slinky, black halter-neck dress with a wrap. Her hair is up in a long high ponytail, with a braid of hair wrapped around the place where the crown of her head meets the ponytail. It's kind of a nod to Barbara Eden as Jeannie (without the bangs, the veil and the quasi-fez -- okay, that's not much of a nod. Never mind). ["I have to say, other than the hair, she looks great. Ainsley, sweetie, you've never heard of a French twist?" -- Wing Chun] Sam: "Whoa, Nellie!" Ainsley says "Hello," cheerfully. Sam says, "Hayes, you could make a good dog break his leash." What is this, Dogpatch? Daisy Mae explains she was at a social function. Damn, I thought she was just being used as part of an incredibly contrived way to address some of the criticisms about sexism on the show, but I guess I was mistaken. Li'l Abner wonders, "Americans for the Preservation of Family Values and White People?" Daisy Mae sweetly replies, "The Federalist Society." Li'l Abner: "A hootenanny!" Cripes, it is Dogpatch. Daisy Mae says she was paged and told to come in. Li'l Abner leads her into his office saying, "Yes; 3250 is a consolidated appropriations act that we want to drop into the UN speech for Monday morning. I need you to review the final legislative language so we can shop it around the Hill over the weekend." Daisy Mae takes off her wrap and puts it on a chair. She asks, "What does it call for?" Li'l Abner claims not to know. Daisy Mae says, "[Li'l Abner]..." He states, "It authorizes the payment of $926 million in UN dues over three years in exchange for a reduction in UN bureaucracy as well as peacekeeping assessments by the General Assembly." Daisy Mae examines the document Li'l Abner handed her and asks what they're concerned about. Li'l Abner says the language was drafted by Republicans. Daisy Mae: "We're inscrutable." He just wants her to look for "legal land mines." Daisy Mae: "Like what?" Isn't that your job? To...um, know that? Li'l Abner: "I don't know. A ban on German food, or a hidden amendment saying how annoying the French are." Or a prohibition on people from Sag Harbor talking like they're from a cartoon about Appalachia? Daisy Mae suggests they drop out of the UN entirely and use the $926 million to take everyone in the country out to lunch. She gathers up her things as Li'l Abner says, "Why don't y'all write that suggestion in the margin?" She says she'll be in her office, and as she turns to leave, Li'l Abner gets a load of how low-cut her gown is in the back. He's all, "Whoa! I didn't even see that thing from the back!" She waltzes out, past a woman we've never seen before standing by the door. She's shorter than Daisy Mae, has dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and is wearing a black skirt and grey sweater set. She's allowed to display enough of a reaction, even though it's only a moment, that we know she's going to figure into the story somehow.
Back in the President's private study, Jed's built a fire and is poking it a bit as Stanley says, "Well, that takes care of lifestyle factors. What about environmental factors?" Jed replies, "Like what?" Stanley suggests: "Too much light in the room?" The members of the "More Light!" Brigade (the same people who are always wondering if it's just a media myth that GE owns NBC) double over laughing. I think we can rule that out. Extremes in room temperature? Jed says no, but I think you might want to check the microclimate around Abby now and then. Stanley then confirms that it's not noise in the room preventing Jed from sleeping. Stanley asks how much sleep Jed normally gets; Jed states that it's four or five hours. And that's probably on a good night. Stanley says they've covered physical, lifestyle, and environmental factors. Stanley says, "That leaves us with..." Jed deduces: "Psychological factors." Stanley agrees. Jed: "What were the odds?" Indeed. Did we really need all that preamble to get to this point? Couldn't all that have been ruled out with about ninety seconds of dialogue, if any, and couldn't the time have been used to get to the stuff about his father and his desperate need for approval and his murky and questionable motives for running again? Well, something to ponder during the commercials.
Donna's in a bar enjoying some Kickapoo Joy Juice with a guy we've never seen (although he looks familiar to me, but not enough for HITG! status). For a moment I think we're going to get to see who she's dating (and even though the guy has his back to the camera you can tell it's not Cliff ["because he's tall enough to see over the bar" -- Wing Chun]), but right away it becomes clear that this is someone she's catching up with, not someone she's seeing. And I still think it's probably Cliff she's dating. The guy asks if she has a few minutes; she indicates that's about all she has. He asks her what's going on. She explains that they're working on a foreign policy speech for the UN on Monday, and it's going to "stir some things up." She indicates that a relatively small circle of people had been consulted on the speech, but that the circle widened tonight. "So it'll be a weekend of bartering, and Josh is usually one of the point men on that, so..." The guy grasps that she needs to get back to the office.
After smiling pleasantly and assuring the guy that she has a few minutes, she asks, "How have you been?" He says, "Great." Donna inquires, "You guys survived?" The guy says, "The dot-coms didn't run out of steam." Donna: "They didn't?" Dot-Com Guy: "Just hype." I make a sound that's somewhere in the limbo between a snort and a chortle -- a snortle, if you will -- and imagine Wing's response to this. ["Sigh." -- Wing Chun] Donna says, "I see." DCG: "Do you?" Donna: "No." But she smiles charmingly and the guy laughs. She looks quite beautiful in this whole episode; they got her hair perfect. DCG claims it's easier to start up now, because there's less pressure to be an overnight success. ["HA HA HA! Yes, it's so easy to start now. Because you know what venture capitalists are dying to do in the middle of a recession? Throw money at fly-by-night dot-coms without a proven track record." -- Wing Chun] Not to mention that there's a whole lot less of everything it would take to be an "overnight success." DCG pulls out his business card and hands it to her; she reads, "'CapitolScoop.com.'" ["The very first thing that popped into my head when I heard that was 'GovWorks.com,' the failed site documented in Startup.com." -- Wing Chun] DCG: "It'll track legislation, profile people in power, shine a spotlight on special interests behind the scenes..." Donna adds: "Gossip." DCG assures her there'll be no gossip: "Hard substance. Public policy. That's why we need all the help we can get." Donna immediately says, "I doubt I can get Josh involved. It'd be a conflict." DCG doesn't want Josh; he clarifies, "I want you." You and ten million other guys, bub. Take a number. Donna: "I'm sorry?" DCG: "I want you." Donna objects, "I don't know where I'd find the time for something like that...it's Friday at eleven, I'm basically on a lunch break right now..." DCG laughs heartily and explains he's talking about a full-time position: "Issues Director for CapitolScoop.com." Donna is flabbergasted. She manages to stutter, "Well, I....I'm...surprised...and I'm flattered...but I'm...you know...not at all qualified." Aw, Donna. Give yourself some credit. DCG argues: "That's not true. You've been Josh Lyman's traffic cop. That's like an M.A. in power brokering. You know the Hill. You know every corner of the White House. You know every pressure point ten miles from the Potomac." He scribbles something on the back of the business card and hands it to Donna. She looks at it and asks, "Is this your operating budget?" DCG: "It's your starting salary." Donna is quietly stunned. Piece of advice? Take the job and run. Not only would you then not be in the icky position of being in love with your boss, but you'd suddenly be someone he'd be willing to power-date. Only he'd chalk it up to being ensorcelled by whatever you're doing differently with your hair. ["No, don't. If they're offering to pay you what you think their operating budget would be, then their business plan sucks ass and they'll be out of business within six months -- eight at the most." -- Wing Chun]
Back in the bullpen, Sam comes out of his office hollering for Ginger. The mysterious dark-haired woman from the earlier scene tells him that both Bonnie and Ginger have gone to get something to eat. Sam wonders if they've met; the woman says no and introduces herself as Celia Walton. Basically, she's Winifred the Sassy Intern's older sister. I can't help wondering why Sam is Sorkin's favourite target for these types of interactions. Sam believes that she's one of the people who was sent over "for the week," (presumably to help out with the UN speech). She says she is. He says they appreciate her help. That's our Sam: typically courteous. Celia says, "I go where I'm told."
After a beat, Celia asks, "Do you mind if I say something to you?" Sam doesn't. Celia: "The way you talked to that woman before..." Here we go. Sam: "What woman?" Celia: "I don't know her name...the dog on a leash?" Hey, that's a fair representation of the charges of sexism. Because Sam didn't call Ainsley anything of the sort, and in fact, the allusion he made implied he was the "good dog," and if Celia actually misheard him and thought he said otherwise, this is the exact moment at which he should be clarifying that. Those of us who level charges of sexism at the show (and it's not exclusive to TWoP -- I've read a number of articles in print and online on the same subject) don't have to fabricate comments or dialogue to criticize. Anyway, Sam says, "That was Ainsley Hayes. She's an Associate Counsel." Celia: "Yeah. It was rude, it was inappropriate, and it was offensive." Sam: "What did I do?" Celia: "You demeaned her." Sam explains: "No. We're friends. It's a completely mature...you know..." You might want to find another word than "mature," Sam. The relationships between men and women on this show are a lot of things, but by and large, "mature" is not one of the words on the top ten list of ways I'd describe them. Sam adds, "Also, she started it." I'm not sure if this refers to her starting it by wearing a clingy dress or all the way back to when she embarrassed him on TV when they first met. But hey, excellent defense. Mature, too. Celia: "Whatever." Sam: "Well...okay." Sam returns to his office, but of course, it's not over. He turns around and says, "I wasn't demeaning her, I was complimenting her." Celia replies, "She's an Associate White House Counsel and you're complimenting her on her sexuality?" Sam says, "She looked good in that dress, I thought." Celia: "Okay."
Just then Andy storms in, loaded for bear. I don't think she's got any pie for Toby this time. She glances into Toby's office, sees he's not there, and asks Sam, "Where is he?" Sam: "Congresswoman." Andy: "Where is he, Sam?" Sam says he doesn't know. Andy calls him a liar. Sam surmises she wants to talk about the speech. Andy: "I, and members of the House International Relations Committee, yes. I couldn't help but notice your fingerprints are all over this, too. You and Toby want to be responsible for starting World War III?" Sam: "No." Andy: "Well, you're gonna." Sam: "I was having a good night until, like, three minutes ago." She asks again where Toby is. Sam insists he doesn't know. Andy says, "You said that already." Maybe it's still true. Andy enters Toby's office and asks, "May I wait in his office?" She doesn't really wait for a reply, and closes the door as Sam mutters, "Better his than mine."
Sam turns back to Celia and says, "What were we talking about?" She replies, "Look, I'm just a temporary hand here for a week, but I don't think it's a joke or anything." Sam replies, "And you say Ginger and Bonnie are out getting something to eat?" She says yeah.
Toby arrives just then with a pile of documents and announces, "I need these distributed." He hands the pile to Celia. Sam tells Toby that Andy's in his office. Toby whispers, "You let her in my office?" Sam says he did. Toby kinds of sidles into Sam's office and whispers, "What the hell did you let her in my office for?" Sam says, "Okay, well, I'm going to step out for a minute, and not be in this area anymore." Toby sighs and kind of tries to peek through the mini-blinds of his office window. He girds himself for battle and opens the door.
Within, Andy says, "I don't get how you could do this without consulting people." Toby says: "Come on in," as he closes the door. He says they consulted lots of people: "What do you think, Sam and I create foreign policy around here?" Andy: "I don't know...you, Sam, Abbott, Costello?" Andy wants to know who they brought in from State. Toby says it was the Secretary of State. "And since when do you get to come in here..." Andy stands up and says, "I'm the third-ranking member on the damn Committee." Which I suspect Toby knows. Toby says, "This is a Presidential address, Andrea. Not a camel." Huh? Andy: "What?" Toby: "A camel! A horse! Built by committee." In the name of all that is holy, I haven't got the faintest idea what he's talking about. The Trojan Horse? Seriously, no idea. ["I thought the 'clarifying' remark meant that if you built a horse by committee, it would be a camel, because everyone would want to add so much crap to it that they'd give it a superfluous hump. But I don't really know either." -- Wing Chun] Andy reads from the speech: "'Freedom must run deeper than the free flow of capital. Freedom must mean more than the free trade of goods and services. The world will be free...'" Toby: "I read it." Andy: "'The world will be free when we have freedom of speech for every nation...'" Toby sits down, saying, "In fact, I wrote it." Andy: "The world will be free when there is freedom to worship for everyone. The world will be free when we finally shake off the rusted chains of tyranny, whether in the guise of fascist dictatorships...'" Toby: "You getting nervous?" Andy continues: "'Or economic slavery or ethnic hostility or...'" Toby: "A little nervous?" Andy: "'Or,' wait for it, 'the crushing yoke of Islamic fanaticism.' Gentlemen, start your engines." Well, as I said when I read the blurb for this episode, "Whee." Despite the fact that I honestly do not see shout-outs in every little thing Sorkin does (because, believe it or not, I actually don't think everything is about me), and despite my wanting to believe that Sorkin writes the show fairly independently of whatever we happen to be talking about on TWoP, it's kind of difficult not to see this largely as a response to my recap of "Isaac and Ishmael." While I was certainly not the only person to criticize that episode (far from it), I am, as far as I know, the only writer to do so in such detail and at such great length, and from a stance that is not anti-Islamic. (If anyone knows of a more detailed such critique, I'd appreciate you sending me the information.) In fact, my recap of that episode prompted a formerly very well-known but now pretty well washed-up news anchor to write to Sars to ask if the website was "run by Americans or foreigners." As a Canadian, I'm not sure which of these categories I get to be put in by such a mentality. Perhaps I need to write an article explaining that North America is no more a monolith than the Islamic religion or the Arab world.
C.J.'s in Leo's office, and mentions that Price's wife is in C.J.'s office now. Leo asks if Mrs. Price very upset. Who wouldn't be? As Margaret comes in at that moment to bring in the Congolese attaché, C.J. says Mrs. Price is with Leonard. When the man comes in, Leo announces, "Everybody, this is McKennen Loboko, the Congolese attaché." He and Leo shake hands. He corrects Leo: "McKonnen." Leo apologizes. He states the reporter's situation to Loboko, who says, "He shouldn't have been travelling without proper documentation." C.J. comments, "The MaiMais care about proper documentation, do they?" Loboko turns to her and says, "I beg your pardon?" C.J.: "If his papers were in order he wouldn't have been abducted at gunpoint?" Loboko says, "We haven't been introduced." C.J.: "I'm C.J. Cregg. I'm the White House Press Secretary. That guy sat in my room for a year. His wife's sitting in my office. His two kids are sitting at home and I want him back!" Didn't Leonard say he had three kids? Loboko gently asks, "You think I have him in my briefcase?" C.J. replies, "This is a shakedown, so tell us how much money, and where does it go?" Loboko: "The Congolese government doesn't negotiate with murderers." Pfft. Every government negotiates with murderers. Governments do whatever the hell is expedient, and whatever the hell they can get away with. C.J. snipes, "The Congolese government is a myth!" Loboko turns to Leo and states, "I can't talk to this woman." I'm a little surprised Leo's been so quiet. And if this is any example of American informal diplomacy, no wonder there are so many problems internationally. ["Why is C.J. so loca this year? This is just like the scene with the veterans. Get a grip, woman." -- Wing Chun] Leo simply says, "Mr. Loboko, how much money, and where does it go?" And it's half-time.
Donna returns to the White House, and runs into Josh, who asks, "Where've you been?" She says she told him that she was going out. Josh: "For an hour?" Donna: "Well...yeah." Well, now that Josh has expressed his irritation, his interest in Donna's life has snapped back down to zero, and he says, "There's an editorial on sugar subsidies in the International Herald-Tribune. Make sure Leo gets a copy. Also: make sure you send me home with a Congressional face book." Donna asks why. Josh: "I'm still mixing up Cooper and Hooper." Donna: "Why?" Josh replies, "'Cause 'Cooper' sounds a lot like 'Hooper.' What does it matter? Just..." Donna suddenly blurts: "I got offered a job tonight." Josh, fiddling with some files: "What do you mean?" Donna asks if Josh knows Casey Reid, a college friend of hers. He doesn't. He asks: "That's where you were? At a job interview?" She says it wasn't an interview, they were just meeting for a drink. Josh asks what the job is, but he's flipping through a document as he does so, and it's impossible to tell whether he's trying to hide his panic by feigning a lack of interest, or whether he's just being his usual sincerely uninterested self. She explains that he asked her to be Issues Director of a startup website focusing on political commentary. Josh repeats this with the merest tinge of disdain. Donna assures him: "Dot-coms aren't dying, just the hype." Josh: "Really? Sounds like the hype's alive and well, too." Hee. Donna, trying to act blasé: "I suppose." Josh: "You suppose? You can't be thinking of taking a job that may not be around a year from now." Donna: "This job may not be around a year from now." Touché. Which is yet another reason to take it. Especially when it probably pays about five times what she makes now. ["Eh. I'm still not so sure I'd risk taking a dot-com job right now. Oh, wait...." -- Wing Chun] Josh: "He offered you money?" No, they're going to pay her in Necco wafers and Kinder Eggs. Donna, slightly exasperated with the tone of Josh's questioning: "Yeah." Josh says, "All I can offer you is a title bump." Donna's only too eager to hear what she can get from Josh out of this: "Like what?" Josh: "Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief for Strategic Planning." Donna: "That's my title now." Josh: "Then I can't offer you a title bump." And we're done with that. As he returns to his office, Josh points and reminds Donna, "The sugar subsidy editorial and the face book, okay?" He walks away reciting, "Cooper and Hooper." Donna looks very, very disappointed, almost as though she expected Josh to be a little more worried that she might leave, and show some mild level of concern about the possibility. You know -- to, um...care. She walks away slowly to get Josh the stuff he needs, wondering why she works so damn hard for such a smug, self-absorbed dork, not to mention why she's in love with him.
Sam knocks on the door to a room where Ainsley's poring over some books. It's not her office; it looks like a sort of small library or reference room. She's changed; she's wearing a tailored shirt and, I think, black stretch jeans. Sam comes in and asks, "What do you need?" Ainsley says, "There's a thing in this we need to be careful of..." Sam asks what it is. Ainsley explains, "They say they'll approve a new scale of peacekeeping assessments if there's a cost-sharing mechanism, but it isn't fully addressed here. You're going to want me to rewrite some of this language before the President goes to the UN." Sam, of course, isn't really listening, because he's brooding about Celia's comments: "Let me ask you something: before, when I said you were enough to make a good dog break his leash, you understand that men -- we're the dog, right? I was the dog." Everybody with an IQ over 47 understood that, Sam, except Celia, apparently. But she doesn't count, because she's a puppet. Ainsley says she understood the metaphor, and goes back to talking about the peacekeeping assessments. Sam interrupts and says, "I meant it to make you feel good." Well, hey, if you're so concerned about making her feel good, maybe you should take her at her word, and pay attention when she's talking to you about something serious. Like the work you're supposed to be doing in the workplace. Which is what she's talking about. I'm just saying. Ainsley quickly says that it did, and appears to be trying to return to the subject at hand, but Sam adds, "Although I certainly meant it." Ainsley says she appreciated it. Sam: "I didn't mean to demean you." Ainsley: "I kind of need you to listen along." She talks about the peacekeeping thing some more, and Sam sort of listens, but then when she pauses, he says, "I was told I demeaned you." Ainsley says, "You didn't." Sam, with almost an air of hurt, "I was told that I did." Are we supposed to feel bad for him? Ainsley, almost solicitously: "By who?" Sam: "By somebody named Celia." Ainsley assures Sam that Celia was mistaken. Sam asks if she's sure. Ainsley indicates, "If I felt demeaned, I'd be among the very first people to know it." Sam: "Terrific." He gets up; she hands him her notes, and he says, "I'll rewrite them now. You'll stick around?" She responds, "What else would I do on a Friday night?" Sam: "I don't like to pry."
Andy: "America doesn't have a monopoly on what's right!" Sing it, sister. Can I get an "Amen"? "And even if we did, I think you're going to have a tough time convincing the Arab world," Andy continues. Toby: "Well, we'd like to talk to them about it." Yeah, it sure looks like you guys are trying to establish an open dialogue. Andy: "That oughta do the trick." Toby thinks it's worth a shot. Andy says, "The U.S. Constitution defends religious pluralism. It doesn't reduce all of Islam to fanaticism." Bless her heart, she pronounces "Islam" correctly. (It's not Iz-lam, it's Iss-lam.) Toby replies, "Neither does this speech. It calls fanaticism 'fanaticism.' It's fanaticism whether we call it that or not, so we're going to call it that." Gosh, I'd love to see this same logic applied to some of the other subjects and problems they work so hard to spin a certain way. She says, "Toby..." He claims, "We respect all religions, all cultures." You got a damn funny way of showing it. Andy: "To a point." Toby: "Yes, to a point. Grotesque oppression isn't okay, just because it's been institutionalized." Unless you need to refuel around there, or something. I'm just saying. He continues, "If you ask me, we should have gotten into the game three, four decades ago, but they're coming for us now, so it's time to saddle up!" I'd love to know what exactly he's referring to when he says "the game," but as is typical for so many of the debates and arguments on this show, specifics are cast aside in order to keep the dialogue going without necessarily having to say anything or commit to anything too specific. As such, it's pointless for me to try to address this comment, because I can't even begin to be sure what he's talking about. Andy: "Toby..." Toby: "We do know what's right!" Oh, Jesus effing... ["Yeah, they know what's right! Hey, who built the White House again?" -- Wing Chun] Andy quietly says, "This is why they hate us." I'm so sick of the vague "they"s in these arguments. Arabs? Muslims? Terrorists? Not the same thing. Even if she specified whether she was talking about Arabs or Muslims or terrorists, most generalizations are going to be patently false or useless. People all over the world hate, resent, and/or fear the United States for a gobsmacking variety of reasons, most of which are not the self-serving reasons many Americans imagine, either. Toby responds, "There's a lot of reasons why they hate us. You know when they're going to like us? When we win." Yeah, that's how it will work out. How freaking idiotic.
C.J. comes up to Leonard and a woman who must be Price's wife. She pleads with C.J. to tell her what's happening. C.J. says, "Janet, we're working some back channels right now. I think if you can make yourself comfortable here, we might have some news in an hour or so." Janet asks whether the government is going to give her husband's abductors some money. C.J. explains, "No, we can't buy them off directly, but what we do is offer to withhold money from their enemies." Janet looks unconvinced: "And if that doesn't work?" C.J. points out that her husband works for a very wealthy corporation. Leonard pipes up: "Janet, Mrs. Carlson would pay...whatever." I wonder in passing if Mrs. Carlson knows about that. Janet: "Ransom." C.J. suggests not getting that far along yet, and offers to get Janet something dry to wear (it's pouring outside and her clothes are wet). She declines. As C.J. leaves, Janet asks whether she should stay in C.J.'s office; C.J. tells her yes and walks away. The expression on C.J.'s face seems to indicate that she's expecting to have to give this woman the worst news of her life at some point in the near future.
Stanley says, "Insomnia's a pretty common symptom of depression. Are you depressed?" Jed says no. Stanley didn't think so. He mentions that some people are predisposed to insomnia at times of acute stress. Stanley wonders if there's any stress in Jed's job, and jokes about the silliness of his question. Jed points out that he was being investigated and then he got censured, and then he had to give the State of the Union, and he's campaigning for re-election, and adds, "Things are blowing up everywhere and I have chosen the General Assembly of the UN to define a tougher foreign policy. Not unusually stressful, no." Jed doesn't like the word "stress": "'Stress' is a Madison Avenue word. ["Ah -- so not too far, then, from a Brooklyn shrink's office." -- Wing Chun] It's something that can be cured with flavoured coffee and bath bubbles." Stanley wonders if Jed doesn't feel stress. Jed says he has a job he likes and his family's healthy: "Stress is for other people." Stanley: "What other people?" Jed insists it's not stress; he felt stressed five nights ago, and he slept perfectly well. Stanley wonders what happened four nights ago. Jed says he wants his money back.
Stanley remarks: "This is a very unusual conversation." Sing it, brother. Jed says he gets that a lot. He then asks Stanley how much he charges: it's $375 an hour. Jed says, "For $375 an hour you oughta bring your own damn lingerie." Such an odd remark. I get it, but I still think it's plenty odd. Stanley says, "I do." ["Adam Arkin is so deadpan that I thought that line was really funny." -- Wing Chun] Jed then launches into a little yarn about Arthur Miller and a hot dog vendor, which is neither particularly informative nor entertaining. He then sneers at Stanley's hourly rate again and asks, "For what?" Stanley pleasantly replies, "I don't really know." For $375 an hour, you better have a better answer than that. I certainly charge a lot less per hour for my services and I can give several damn good reasons why I'm worth what I charge. ["I took that line to mean that there isn't an answer he could give that would satisfy Jed." -- Wing Chun] Jed sighs. "I can't sleep. I can't sleep. I'll be tired, and I'll lie there, and it doesn't happen." Stanley inquires again about what happened four days ago. Lord, why does this have to be so tortured? Jed knows perfectly well that Toby's words have unsettled him and raked up a lot of difficult psychological muck. ["More to the point, we know it." -- Wing Chun] Why do we have to have this tediously drawn-out non-exploration of the real issues? Jed says he won the Iowa caucus. Stanley: "Anything else?" Jed: "That's not enough?" Stanley begins, "Mr. President, if you were any other patient..." Jed instructs him to say what he would say to any other patient. Stanley: "I'd say, 'Screw around if you want, but it's your money, it's about to be my money, and I sleep fine.'" Jed 'fesses up and tells him (in an overly drawn-out, evasive way) that Toby called him on something: "The long and short of it is that my father never liked me at all." Did we really have to wait until thirty-eight minutes into the show to get to this? I should have so much money to waste on therapy. Jed stares ahead of himself blankly, without a great deal of emotion. Stanley remarks, "Well, at least we're closer to my area now." Jed, softly: "Yeah, I thought you'd enjoy that." Commercials.
Charlie comes limping in from his latest sojourn to Plot Siberia. He hobbles his way into the bullpen and sits down. Why he's coming to the White House well after at midnight on Friday night when Jed is clearly quite occupied is anyone's guess. It doesn't matter anyway; he's just there as another prop in the one-sided battle over sexism in the workplace. Sam sees him and says, "Charlie? Are you in pain?" Charlie claims not to be. Sam asks, "Charlie, have you been playing basketball?" Charlie confirms this. Sam: "Did you get beat?" Charlie first says no, and then when Sam presses him, he says yes. Sam tries to find out who he played, although Charlie clearly doesn't want to tell him, and after guessing Ed, Larry, Jack, and Manny, Charlie finally confesses that Deanna beat him. Sam: "Your sister?" Charlie says yes. Sam: "Your little sister." Charlie points out, "She plays varsity, Sam." Sam, getting some coffee, makes a point of saying, "Girls' varsity." I sure hope she's in high school and not college. Charlie: "She played a finesse game." Sam: "Man, you can't walk." Charlie agrees, "Yeah. I don't know what's happening to my life." Me neither, Charlie. Sam channels Josh a bit and says, "I can see you're down in the dumps, but let's talk about me." Charlie dutifully says, "Okay." Sam: "If your sister was getting ready for a night out, and I said, 'Deanna, you're enough to make a good dog break his leash,' would you think I was a cad?" Charlie: "I'd think you were a hick!" Snerk.
Just then Daisy Mae...I mean, "Ainsley" comes in to talk to Sam. Sam tells her to hang on and asks Charlie, "Because of the sentiment or the expression?" Charlie asks, "It's my sister?" Sam: "Yeah." Charlie: "I'd beat you up." Sam: "You and how many Girl Scouts?" Charlie: "If I could stand up..." Ainsley keeps trying to get Sam's attention, with no success. Perhaps if she changed her clothes back, she'd have better luck. Sam, to Charlie: "But if it wasn't your sister?" Charlie says, "Then you're fine." Why is he fine? Doesn't context matter? Like say, if he said it in the workplace? Sam turns to Ainsley and says, "He says I'm fine." Ainsley tells him he's not fine because his notes have screwed up some percentages on the peacekeeping assessments. Sam starts to listen, but just then Celia returns. I'm not sure how he manages to see her since she only exists in one dimension but I guess he has special Spidey powers. He interrupts Ainsley and says to Celia, "I asked Ainsley and she said she didn't mind at all. Plus, Charlie said he's fine with it." Oh, well, then. Because I'm pretty sure the definitions of sexual harassment indicate that if one woman in the environment is okay with the comments, even if they're about her, then anyone else's perception that the environment is hostile or detrimental to women is thereby invalidated. Celia's reply is the wrong one (and it's the wrong answer precisely because Sorkin doesn't fully understand the charges to which he's trying to respond with this whole straw-person argument): "Charlie's a man." Charlie: "Damn right!" Oy. Even thus misconstrued, I still think some of our forum posters are owed royalty cheques.
Ginger and Bonnie return, as Ainsley's pleading with Sam to listen to the points she's trying to make. Is anyone other than me finding it a little odd -- even perversely amusing -- just how much apparently inadvertent sexism the writer has managed to pack into these scenes while busily setting up and knocking down cardboard targets? Ainsley says, referring to her speech-related issues, "This is important." Sam: "I also think it's important to make clear that I'm not a sexist." Charlie: "And that I'm all man." WTF? Ainsley says to Celia: "You're Celia?" Celia says she is. Ainsley declares, "He's not a sexist." Celia says, "If you're willing to let your sexuality diminish your power." Ainsley: "I'm sorry?" Celia: "I said, I'm surprised you're willing to let your sexuality diminish your power." Ainsley replies, "I don't even know what that means." Celia: "I think you do." I must say, for a person temporarily assigned to this position, she has no fear whatsoever for her job or any future references she might need. Ainsley replies, "And I think you think I'm made out of candy glass, Celia. If somebody says something that offends you, tell them." Didn't she? "But all women don't have to think alike," Ainsley adds. Also true. Celia replies, "I didn't say they did, and when someone said something that offended me, I did say so." Ainsley proclaims, "I like it when the guys tease me. It's an inadvertent show of respect I'm on the team. And I don't mind it when it gets sexual and you know what? I like sex!" Charlie: "Hello?" Ah, one of my favourite straw arguments in the whole sexual harassment muddle: the charge of frigidity of complainants. So. Very. Tired. Such a big, festering, reeking, putrid red herring. Ainsley states, "I don't think whatever sexuality I have diminishes my power; I think it enhances it." Celia asks: "And what kind of feminism do you call that?" Not that Ainsley ever stated to Celia that she's any kind of feminist. Ainsley says, "My kind." Ginger pipes up: "Lipstick Feminism. I call it Stiletto Feminism." Sam's interest is piqued: "Stilettoes?" Ainsley asks Sam, "You're not in enough trouble already?" Sam replies, "I suppose I am."
Celia inquires, "Isn't the point that Sam wouldn't have been able to find another way to be chummy with a woman who wasn't sexually appealing?" Ainsley says he would be able to, but that's not the point: "The point is that sexual revolution tends to get in the way of actual revolution. Nonsense issues distract attention away from real ones: pay equity, child care, honest-to-God sexual harassment and, in this case, a speech in front of the UN General Assembly." Yeah, Ainsley's all about pay equity, as I recall. Not to mention that her "okayness" with Sam's remarks doesn't negate the possibility that they have indeed created a hostile environment for others. Don't even get me started on all the "revolution" rhetoric. Ainsley turns to Sam and tells him, "So, you: 25% on the assessments for Category A." To Charlie: "You...I don't know what your thing is." And to Celia: "And you: stop trying to take the fun out of my day. With that, I'm going to get a cupcake." Celia just watches her go and says nothing. Sam says, "Well, for the moment at least, I'm going to do what she's telling me to do." As he goes into his office, Ginger says, "We're at OEOB," as she and Bonnie leave again. That leaves Charlie and Celia sitting at opposite ends of the room. Charlie waves at Celia and says, "How you doing?" But not in that leering, Joey Tribbiani way.
Donna brings Janet some coffee. Janet apologizes for not having asked Donna's name; Donna tells her what it is. Donna is the name of Bill and Janet's daughter, who is seven months old, and she has a three-year-old brother named Harry. She wonders if Donna knows how it works with the money/ payoff/ ransom/ whatever. Donna doesn't know. She explains that she's an assistant. Janet expresses concern about the critical articles her husband has written about the Bartlet administration, and his clashes with C.J.; Donna assures her: "Nobody cares about that tonight. And you want to know a secret about C.J.? But you can't tell your husband this, really. She battles with them every day, but she loves reporters. She's very protective of them, and it...it doesn't matter whether...you know?" Janet understands.
Toby and Andy are still at it: "It took...Andrea, it took three days to get the language through NSC and the NSA. It isn't coming out of the speech." Andy says she didn't think it was. Toby asks, "Then why are we here for an hour?" Andy explains that several members have drafted an insert; she asks Toby to look at it. Toby agrees. She gets up and hands it to him. She indicates a paragraph on the page, saying, "This would follow your paragraph." Toby reads, "'Our goal is neither to preach nor proclaim American values. We have deep respect for our Islamic brothers and sisters, and we have a great deal to learn from the values of...tolerance and faith that are deeply held throughout the Islamic world.'" He pauses. "So this is your way of saying 'any resemblance the paragraph may have had to foreign policy is purely coincidental'?" Andy softly says, "That's right." Toby replies, "Guess what? Our goal is to proclaim American values." Can I just interject that not all "American" and Muslim values are mutually exclusive, and the sooner more Americans recognize and learn that, the better? Can I also interject that the good old United States of America is home to some seven million Muslims and to an estimated three million Arab-Americans (and those two groups overlap)? There aren't only Arabs and Muslims "over there" and somewhere else. They're here working and obeying laws and paying taxes and trying to raise their families like most other people.
Andy says, "This speech isn't supposed to be ideology. The speech is supposed to be about reality." Toby says that he thinks POTUS will decide what the speech is supposed to be about, "but the reality is, the United States of America no longer sucks up to reactionaries, and our staunch allies will know what we mean." Andy says, "We don't have any staunch allies in the Arab world; just reluctant ones. We have a coalition held together with duct tape! A coalition without which we cannot fight!" Toby says nobody's blowing off the coalition: "And that coalition will be plenty strong." Andy: "Oh, when we win?" Toby: "That's right." Andy wonders, "What's Egypt going to think? Or Pakistan?" Toby: "That freedom and democracy are coming soon to a theatre near them, so get dressed." Andy: "Toby...you guys are on a thing right now, and I'm behind you, you know I'm behind you; a lot of House Democrats are..." Toby: "Not enough." She continues, "And plenty of Republicans. But this one moment in time, you have to get off your horse and just...simply put, be nice to the Arab world." Feh. This is the best she can come up with? I can't help but get the feeling that she doesn't really give a damn about Toby's screwed-up world view ["which by the way is totally out of character for Toby" -- Wing Chun], but is only trying to keep a lid on a powder keg. Toby: "'Be nice'?" He thinks, and says, "Well, how about when we, instead of blowing Iraq back to the seventh century for harbouring terrorists and trying to develop nuclear weapons, we just imposed economic sanctions and were reviled by the Arab world for not giving them a global charge card and a free trade treaty? And how about when we pushed Israel to give up land for peace? And how about when we sent American soldiers to protect Saudi Arabia, and the Arab world told us we were desecrating their holy land? We'll ignore the fact that we were invited. How about two weeks ago in the State of the Union when the President praised the Islamic people as 'faithful and hardworking' only be denounced in the Arab press as knowing nothing about Islam? But none of that is the point." And never mind the fact that there are many other aspects to most of the things Toby just mentioned, things which deserve to be discussed. No time for that. Andy asks what the point is. Toby: "I don't remember having to explain to Italians that our problem wasn't with them, but with Mussolini! Why does the U.S. have to take every Arab country out for an ice cream cone?" Oh, good God. Please. He's shouting now: "They'll like us when we win!" Andy looks like she's remembering why they couldn't stay married.
Toby continues ranting: "Thousands of madrassahs teaching children nothing, nothing, nothing but the Koran and to hate America!" Notes: "Madrassah" is an Arabic word for school. And to eagle-eyed readers: I transliterated it "Koran" because I'm not crediting Toby with the awareness to know it's more accurately Qur'an. Toby: "Who do we see about that?" He pauses. "Do I want to preach America? Judeo-Christianity? No." Should I even bother to point out that Islam is as closely allied with either of those traditions as either of them is with each other? Feh, why waste my breath? Toby: "If their religion forbids them from playing the trumpet, so be it. But I want those kids to....look at a globe." The irony of this particular example just cracks me up, since nationwide testing in the U.S. repeatedly shows an incredible ignorance of geography in particular, with students and adults of all ages performing very poorly on tests of various kinds (even things so simple as finding the state of New York on a map of the U.S., or labelling the Pacific Ocean on a map of the world). It also makes me think of Canadian comedian Rick Mercer's very successful segment on a Canadian show called This Hour has 22 Minutes, entitled "Talking to Americans." He did short little on-the-spot interviews with Americans ranging from average schmoes to high-ranking politicians, revealing the most incredible ignorance about Canada and things Canadian (not to mention a stunning degree of media susceptibility). Bottom line: the Arab world and the developing world have no monopoly on ignorance, or myopia for that matter. The United States doesn't have a monopoly on education or intelligence or, for that matter, righteousness. Toby continues: "Be exposed to social sciences, history...some literature." What a boon that would be for all the undereducated people of the world, North Americans included. He hesitates again and then reiterates: "They'll like us when we win." No, no..."they" won't. "They" may have no choice but to submit and lick American boots (hmm, that sounds oddly familiar), but that's got nothing whatsoever to do with liking or respect. Andy packs up her paragraph and her stuff and softly says, "Okay." As she's about to go, Toby mumbles, "Let me take another look at the softer language." Andy hands him the paper and leaves without a word but a slightly wry expression. It's not quite a smile.
Donna comes out of C.J.'s office, and walks over to Leonard and C.J. Leonard asks how Janet is doing. Donna says she asked how the money exchange works; Donna told her she didn't know. C.J. states that it's not the money: "It's a promise to honour international sanctions against the export of something called col-tan by the Rwandan Army." Donna asks what that is. C.J. says it's a mineral that's plentiful in the Congo, necessary for making cell phones and pagers and the Rwandans and Ugandans smuggle it. ("Col-tan" refers to columbite-tantalite, and apparently the price for a ton can reach $200,000 USD). Josh comes over to them just then and delivers the bad news: he's had word that Price is dead: "He was killed in an ambush. Embassy Kinshasa's going to get the body." Donna looks stricken. C.J. and Leonard head for her office. Josh walks back to his office, leaving Donna to stand there and watch C.J. and Leonard tell Janet the terrible news. Janet cries out and Leonard and C.J. struggle to support her as she collapses on the couch and sobs. Donna turns and looks back down the hall at Josh standing in his doorway watching, too. He goes into his office. Donna walks back toward her desk, contemplating whether she really wants to leave this workplace in order to comment on it from a distance. Does it make any difference if she's there or not? She doesn't know.
Stanley says it can't be easy being Jed. Jed insists it's not the job. Stanley means it can't be easy being inside Jed's head. Jed wants to know what's wrong with his head. Stanley doesn't know. Jed: "Well, of course not. That would be $385 an hour." Dude, if the price bothers you that much, end the session and find a cheaper shrink. Stanley suggests that they keep moving the goalposts on him: "Get 'A's, good college, Latin honours, get into the London School of Economics, get a good teaching job, Ivy League school, tenure, now you gotta publish, now you gotta go to Stockholm..." Yup, just one big Nobel Prize-winning drag. Jed asks, "It's not good for a person to keep setting goals?" Stanley says, "It probably is, but it's tricky for someone who's still trying to get his father to stop hitting him." Jed's reply: "Well, I'm told that most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Stanley points out that Jed isn't most people, and that he's destined for other things. Jed allows, "I have abilities." Stanley acknowledges that now he has the opportunity to use them. Jed thinks he has. Stanley brings up the Lincoln Bedroom, and says, "This is a hell of a curve you get graded on now." Jed gives him a look. "Lincoln freed the slaves and won the Civil War. 'Thank you. ! And what will you be singing for us today, Mr. Bartlet?' 'Well, we've had six straight quarters of economic growth.'" Jed says, "That's not easy." Stanley: "Okay." Jed repeats his statement. Stanley: "I believe you." Jed thinks he's made tough choices. Stanley: "I think Lincoln did what he thought was right, even though it meant losing half the country. I think you don't do what you think is right if it means losing Michigan's electoral votes." Jed's wondering to himself just when it became "Piss on POTUS" Week. Jed says evenly, "You don't know anything." Stanley says he'll be the first to admit that. Jed: "I'm not trying to get my father to like me." Stanley replies, "Good. 'Cause it's never, never gonna happen." He pauses briefly and says, "Look, we're done for the night." He gets up and starts to leave. Jed's all, "What?" Stanley states, "We've been here for two hours, it was a double session, we're done for the night." The whole thing is very reminiscent of the ending of Josh's session with Stanley, only without the drama. Jed has a stronger fallback than Josh's "I haven't told you my dreams yet!" He says, "Stanley, I hate to put it this way, but I'm me, and you're you, and we're done when I say we're done." Stanley begs to differ: "No. I think you could use some assistance right now, sir. Use me, don't use me, but all I can offer you is this: I'll be the only person -- in the world -- other than your family, who doesn't care that you're the President. Our time is up." Stanley leaves. Jed is left to ruminate on all this. He gets up, takes another cigarette from the box on the table -- which happens to rest in front of a picture of his father -- and he walks to the window and watches the rain as he smokes.