By Djb
Props to Wing Chun, who believed so fervently in my recapping acumen that she trusted in my ability to hop from my other Wednesday at 9 PM gig directly over to this one, despite my having missed the past seven weeks of this show. But don't worry, y'all. I'm up for the challenge. Because you know what's funny? Men in navy blue suits are funny. So let's go and watch them now.
Fade up on a TV-within-a-TV shot of a man in a navy blue suit (natch), reporting from the Pentagon. We join him in progress: "...with General Vahorean confirming -- or should I say disclosing for the first time the names of the Marines taken hostage." And they are? "They are Lance Corporals John Halley and Raymond Rowe, and Private First Class Herman Hernandez." He goes on to explain that their mission began as "a routine patrol of Bitanga Airport" and ended with their being attacked by fifty members of the Kundu national army. The camera pans slowly away from this decidedly Max-Headroom-esque opening sequence, pausing just long enough to ensure that we notice the television is tuned to MSNBC. Nice synergy there. The news crawl along the bottom of the screen displays inconsequential facts about a pending car seat recall, but it might as well opportunistically read, "More Americans get their news from MSNBC, the Official Television News Station Of The Fake TV White House."
A subtitle written in the font MS Secretly I'm Not Equipped To Recap This Show AT ALL Sans Bold appears on screen, letting us know that it "Saturday Evening." In a long, nondescript hallway festooned with fluorescent lighting and sadness, Toby paces and speaks as calmly as I've ever heard him (read: frantic rather than apoplectic, pointed rather than "purple with rage") into a cell phone: "Well, Sam's on his way over. And I'll tell you something -- if I were someone who felt comfortable hugging other people, I'd give one to Sam, 'cause he absolutely impaled himself." Toby paces and paces -- he must be looking for his tie -- informing the other conversational party that he's happy to lend Sam whatever help he needs for the last week of his campaign, ending off his rapidly expanding congressional filibuster: "By the way, you know what they don't tell you? You can post bond with a credit card." Heh. Nicely developed. Over at the front desk, Charlie informs a uniformed gentlemen, "Yo man, that's totally whack," as Toby fails to miss a beat: "Yeah, Charlie's trying to throw down with the street. It's kind of a sad sight to see." Charlie, meanwhile, names credit card after credit card, apparently trying to free himself from the clink and maximize his airline mileage simultaneously, and he's one "this is whack" away from trying to gain sweet, sweet freedom with his Diner's Club card when the action turns back to the nearby television. A woman appears on the TV screen, standing outside and holding an umbrella, letting us know that POTUS has boarded Air Force One and is on his way home from stumping for Sam in California. The uniformed man beckons Toby over to the front desk, telling him that his release paperwork requires him to sign a comical amount of times (total: ten, and four initials), inspiring Toby to snark, "Excuse me, I think they're making me buy somebody's house." Surly Cop (oh, such a clever, clever nickname I finally came up with just as we'll never see him again) shoots Toby a look with Toby ignores Toby-ly. Toby instructs whoever it is he's been speaking with to "call [him] when you land," snapping the cell shut and turning around to a seated group of cliché hooker archetypes and asking them which one of them he borrowed the phone from.
Just then, "Disco" Sam Seaborn (whoa! I may have cheated on this show for a couple episodes, but Sam's hairstyle looks like it went to a Kajagoogoo concert in 1982 and hasn't checked back in since then) comes ranting in, busting in with no introduction, "Toby!" Toby apologizes for missing the rally, calmly adding, "That was a hell of a thing you did with the tax plan." Sam thanks him, and Toby volleys the predictable "I meant it was really stupid." Says the man whose necktie, government-issued ID, and other unmentionables are in a manila envelope while unauthorized photocopies of all of them are on their way to the AP newswire. Sam wants to know what happened, and Toby recaps his gallant defense of defenseless Andi as Charlie banters his way over to a free seat to the TV Hookers. Toby tells Sam that he's taking over the Seaborn campaign for its last week, and Sam reminds Toby that POTUS doesn't have the authority to fire Scott Holcumb. Toby responds that Holcumb was "taking it in the wrong direction," and Sam worries after Toby's ability to do any better at this point. "We made a rough entrance here, but things are looking up now." Sam reminds Toby of last week's many campaign missteps including the Disneyland débacle, the sound bite regarding the French loaf, and Donna's meeting with a Communist. And while I appreciate Sam's willingness to catch this still somewhat-mystified recapper (Sam get engaged to Trista after he loses the election, right? RIGHT?), up on some of what he's missed, I actually do read Deborah's recaps. So really, I'm fine. Leave the recapping to the recapping professionals. Trim the recapping. Trim the hair. Just trim.
It's not over. A "glass half full" metaphor Toby can't finish because Sorkin couldn't believe he was writing it is interrupted by Sam asking, "How'd you call Josh? Didn't they take your cell phone from you?" Toby indicates the TV Hookers and explains, "I used theirs." Sam puts it all together, surmising, "So on a call girl's phone bill, there's gonna be a call to Air Force One?" But Toby's right there with it: "You really gonna be teaching a seminar on call girl caution? Really?" The set-up was contrived as hell and they had to hire two extras and rent them pasties and padding, but the payoff was actually kind of worth it. Don't be mad that I think so. Charlie cuts in to remind Toby and Sam that they are not "in jail voluntarily," and the three head to the door with Toby and Sam arguing about how much press they think this story will get. Toby notes that there's the story about the hostages, POTUS on his way back to DC, not to mention (except where it's mentioned in quotes right here) "a flood in Colorado and a chemical fire in Providence. We got saved." Yikes. The good citizens of Providence sure didn't. Very tough week for them. Toby and Sam swing open The Doors Of The Ironic Undoing Of That Last Statement, and Sam, Toby, and Charlie discover a crowd of about one billion reporters standing in front of the Newport Beach Police Department. Toby: "All right, I called that putt too early." When in doubt, golf reference.
Credits. God bless whoever made Josh Malina a permanent member of this cast. Oh, and America as well.
The good news is that, according to the television, it's going to be 75 degrees and sunny in Oakland. What sucks is that three Marines are being held hostage in Fake Africa and POTUS has to figure out what to do about it. Joining the action on Air Force One, we find POTUS looking at still photos of the three Marines on MSNBC and ruing, "How come it's never people with six months to live who are taken hostage?" Haven't those people already got enough to worry about, POTUS, or are you really interested in pursuing a controversial "Take My Terminal Cancer Patient...Please!" hostage exchange program to get those three healthy young Marines out of Fake Africa?
Josh and Donna pedeconference into the room, Josh referring to her as "Trotsky" (heh) and telling her that the First Lady is going to take the President's public events in California, and that C.J. should stay out west instead of taking the red-eye back. They exposit about a "meeting with Max in the morning," and Donna also lets Josh know "the HSS Chapter of the submission is ready for you to proofread. You want me to do it?" Josh notes that he's supposed to do that himself and Donna notes that Josh won't do it himself. Josh frets unfrettingly, "You took a meeting with a Communist, though." Donna: "You sent me there, though." Josh: "Yeah. Fair enough. My bad." Well, I guess that effectively shuts down that arc. Donna will be doing the proofreading thing. Josh will be doing the "being really blasé about The Red Menace" thing.
Back in the room, POTUS takes a call from Leo. Leo, down in the Sit Room, lets POTUS know that the intelligence they've collected so far indicates that the hostages are "being held at a barracks about thirty-seven miles east of Bitanga." POTUS asks what would happen if they decided to "screw the deadline" and "go to full deployment right now," and Leo responds that such a plan would doubtless result in the execution of the Marines. So, not so much, then. DJ Jazzy Fitz pipes up to let all know that twenty-six special ops will move in on POTUS's order, giving them "a 70% chance of success." POTUS confirms, "All right, then. On my order." They end the call, POTUS hanging up the phone and scheduling a spontaneous moment of "quiet, reflective introspection" I hadn't actually seen on his agenda for the day.
Sorority Life, Josh Malina Edition. We're back at the speechwriting interns' subplot, and it's very, very late at night. Three Laurens And A Funeral sit around a conference table with Will. He's got his feet up on said table, making it immediately clear to us that the wholesale defection of his former staff obviously hasn't helped hone his people skills any. He's preaching, "You can't say their plan is the wrong way to stimulate the economy." One of the girls who isn't 21 or 60 (I'm sorry...I can't see her number and I'm still putting names to faces here) bites back, "It is the wrong way." Will vehemently disagrees, adding for spite, "And don't say 'we believe.' Make it declarative." She glares at him as if to say, "Then here's a little something in a declaration: I fucking hate you." Will calls on the aforementioned 21 and 60, who, he notices for the first time, are sound asleep sitting up in their chairs. Winnie Cooper (her character's name I just plum can't keep in my head) defends them chirpily: "They've been working since very early this morning." He walks around to their side of the table holding a gigantic tome (we'll call it The Big Book of Asshole Comments I Have Made to My Alienated Staff, Second Edition, which he authored and published) and drops it from a great height right in front of them. They snap awake, Will starting right in on them. Everything they do is wrong. Number 60 starts slumping, and Will threatens, "Don't fall asleep again." Number 60 retorts, "I thought I saw food on the floor." Lauren Shelby (it is! Right?) reminds Will that they haven't eaten in a while, and Will's all incredulous: "There's food at the mess." Lauren Shelby: "The mess closes at 6." Will: "Is it after 6?" Lauren Shelby: "Yes." Will: "What time is it?" Lauren Shelby: "11:30." Well, you knew that was coming. But then again, I guessed she was going to say "3 AM," so playing by Price is Right rules (whoever guesses closest without going over), I guess I'm not so smart after all, now am I? Don't answer that, and I'll let Deborah come back week. Anyway. Will relents and tells the girls to go home, and Winnie Cooper stays behind to reprimand Will, "You didn't give them much encouragement." Will gets real real mad, reminding her that the staff quit and that, even though they're not speechwriters, this all still needs to be done by Monday. Winnie tells Will that he's had an attitude about the interns "since yesterday," and he tells her, "I question their commitment." Winnie thinks being there on Saturday night and not getting paid is commitment enough, but Will thinks "White House intern looks good on a résumé. Three months from now two of them will be working at Condé Nast and HBO." Winnie asks about the other two. According to Will, the other two "will marry senior vice-presidents of Condé Nast and HBO." Sexist? True? A little from Column A, a little from Column B?
The phone rings. It's Toby, calling from what appears to be a restaurant. He starts right in with Will, bringing him up to speed: "Charlie and I got arrested." He sounds more than a little proud of this fact, I might point out. Will responds that he already knows and that he saw it on the news, and Toby takes a moment to digest the fact that "it made the news out there." But Will has his zinger at the ready, assuring Toby, "A Jewish guy won a bar fight. It's news everywhere." All he needs is a Protestant and the Pope, have them walk into the aforementioned bar, and he could take that act right up to the Catskills. But we would miss him terribly. Toby has news Will might not interpret as "good," and here it is: "The President is coming out with his tax plan tomorrow, not Monday." Will's voice registers panic. Toby reminds us of developments last week, laden with a fluoride-drenched metaphor about "the toothpaste" being "out of the tube." All of which is to say that POTUS's public remarks need to be all set by "the end of the day tomorrow." Will snaps his fingers at Winnie, whispering not quietly enough to think Toby won't hear him, "Get 'em back!" Winnie's all, "Who?" I think just as a device to let Will call the interns by another patronizing name because he doesn't respect them and he's a driven jerk and WE GET IT. "The Ronettes," he hisses. "Get 'em back!" Will confirms that "the end of the day tomorrow" is no problem, and Toby promises to call back in an hour. To remind Will that his remarks have to be done by the end of the day tomorrow, minus the hour that will have elapsed.
Back with Toby, Charlie stands up and informs him, "I'm gonna head to the airport and take the red-eye back." Toby tells him for the first time (didn't we know this hours ago?) that FLOTUS will be taking over POTUS's public events in California and that she needs to be staffed. Charlie steps away, and Toby sits down at a nearby table with Disco Sam and Amy. He gets right to it: "How much money does he have left?" We learn that the number is what I deduce to be "low," Amy explaining, "$28,500 cash on hand; that's including a loan for $15,000 for targeted radio spots." Pause, perhaps of the awkward vareity. But Amy remains "cautiously optimistic" about Sam's campaign's financial prospects because "Scott Holcumb never tapped Democratic interest groups." They wonder if they still have time to collect some stray cash at this late date in the campaign, and Amy says it's possible "if they can be convinced Sam's still sucking in some oxygen." Sam notes with a jovial strain of contempt, "I'm enjoying this." I've got a sneaking suspicion Amy has never been in the presence of those words without their being smeared by a heavy pudding of irony. She doesn't care. Toby doesn't care. Toby pushes on, "You're eight points down with ten points up for grabs. We need them all to break for you." Sam smiles that winning (though not literally "winning," they're starting to suspect) smile, Toby promising they can beat the odds by calling upon a nearby Charlie to regale them with the story of his triumphantly brief prison stay. But it's too late for all those hijinks, because we've reached that magical moment in every West Wing episode where things stop being funny and snappy and screwball. Charlie is in a far corner of the restaurant, staring grimly up at a television. "These guys got beat," he says. The remaining three turn toward the television to regard photos of the three captured Marines, all of whom look badly hurt. For Charlie, real drama is saying dramatic things twice: "These guys got beat."
It's "Sunday Morning," and it's time to party, budget-style! Josh is in a budget meeting talking numbers, and as they're wrapping up, some guy named "Max" I'm not sure I'm supposed to know ["I believe his last name is 'Contrivance,' so you're good" -- Wing Chun] asks Josh, "Mrs. Bartlet was promised $12 million for immunization education funds at CDC. You've got the full $139 million for vaccines in here. Shouldn't they be earmarked separately?" Josh informs Max that there is "no more $12 million," which This Max Character can't believe. Max argues that he should have been told about this, and Josh tells him, "You get a daily memo on Hill consultations." Max responds, "I get thirty-five of them and you know it." Josh agrees that he did know that, and dismisses the meeting with a terse "Thank you." The rest of the suited strangers leave, and This Max Character walks up to Josh and asks, "I have to go tell this to the First Lady now?" Josh is continuously uninterested in this line of conversation, telling him, "Well, I'd have someone else do it, but it's up to you." So snerk on you, Max.
Someone who might be named Lauren enters the room she and the other interns left minutes earlier. Will is already there writing in marker on a dry-erase board, and he wastes no time before telling this Lauren, "You guys have got to hunker down." She promises him that they're doing their best, and Will argues, "I don't think you are." Lauren smiles, "Man, your sister was right." Will wants to know what she was "right" about, exactly, but Winnie walks in at just that moment and the conversation turns to matters slightly less gossipy in nature. Gack. So many numbers to recap. "Minimum wage," Will's lesson of the day starts. On the dry-erase is a wage/employment comparison among a guy who unloads boxes who makes minimum wage; a public school teacher who makes upwards of $41K; and a doctor making $150,000. The column below the salary lists the percentage of that salary that gets taxed, and Will explains the "Progressive Tax," which means that the higher salary gets taxed more. Check. The only reason I'm bored is because I already learned all this on The Bachelorette when Trista and Jamie took a CPA course right after they got hot oil massages and took a shower together. Will adds that the Republican tax plan announced last Friday has the minimum-wage worker and the schoolteacher paying the same taxes as before, but now "the doctor gets $4,500 back." Under the Democratic plan, however, only the doctor stays the same, whereas the cheaper labor gets a refund on their taxes. But how then, you may be asking, do we "finance the tax deductibility of college tuition for the box unloader and the schoolteacher?" I'm so glad you asked, because I had been wandering the streets of New York City until Wednesday night wondering exactly the same thing. The answer: "The über-wealthy." Is that a German superhero of some kind? "Ask a CEO making $16,400,000 a year to give us another 1%." He tells them to work on it for an hour and then he'll be back. But on his way out, one of the Laurens (I'm sorry, am I the only one who needs those jerseys back on, or what?) mutters, "The doctor got into medical school." What's that, you say? She repeats, and elaborates as well: "The doctor got into medical school. He had to work hard to do that, and presumably the CEO has some skills, the value of which the market has placed at $16,400,000." Will shoots back a line I just can't hear enough times: "Was there a spread on this in Republican Vogue?" He leaves. Ouch.
Josh hunts and pecks at his computer keyboard, turning around in his chair to find FLOTUS standing at his doorway, staring at him. "You're very stealthy, ma'am," Josh muses. "I've always liked that about you." FLOTUS is not impressed with this buttering up, and she strides into the office with the comment "You outsmarted my chancellor. You bested my swordsman." And while all this maybe true, I wouldn't expect FLOTUS to couch these plot developments in quite such a Magic, the Gathering kind of way. FLOTUS asks point-blank why her agenda doesn't get anywhere, accusing Josh of being "a political snob" who "doesn't think the First Lady belongs on the starboard side of the building." Josh answers: "Wrong." FLOTUS: "'Wrong' what?" Josh: "Wrong, ma'am." FLOTUS: "Damn right." Josh gets back to the exposition at hand, explaining that POTUS and Leo "listen to and participate in vigorous debate. This isn't school." FLOTUS asks why Josh thinks he can be so condescending with her, and he explains, "I won. I always do. And you came here for my advice." Max is her nephew. Oh. Josh thinks that this Max "doesn't understand the budget process, he doesn't understand committee structure." Josh tells her that her agenda is a serious one and that it needs serious attention with "a professional face on it." He insists that she hire a Chief of Staff worthy of her agenda. She thanks him and leaves because the swelling music tells her that Josh has said something inspiring and right.
We're on a beach in California (now we're in Bachelorette territory, people), a large group of press flanking Sam "Sells Sea Shells By The" Seaborn and Toby on both sides. Toby explains to Sam, "When they ask you why you're here today, you say it's because Orange County's beachfronts are a national treasure." He suggests the same answer be given for the rise in the consumer price index and the Democratic tax plan. Sam worries that such a one-note performance could make him sound a bit like "an idiot," and Toby tells him that this footage is only going to be used for b-roll anyway and not to worry about his actual words. Toby yells to the press that Sam will take some questions now, and at the first question posed -- "Mr. Seaborn, what are we doing here today?" -- Sam launches in without hesitation: "Orange County's beachfronts are a national treasure." Professor Higgins strides away from his well-trained Doolittle and walks closer to the water where he's met by a radiant C.J. I love her in sunglasses. I love her with windswept hair. I love her all the time. She tells Toby twice, "He looks youthful and energetic," asking in complete seriousness, "Do we have anything he can jump over?" A thousand "How Rob Lowe could climb a ladder and get over himself" jokes are weighed and discarded. Toby and C.J. discuss the fact that neither of them knows what's going on at the White House, and C.J. pauses to ask him, "You've never been on a beach in your life, have you?" Toby answers a "no" that tries not to sound forlorn.
Meanwhile, back at the office, Debbie Fiderer briefs POTUS on whom he's about to meet with as they stroll through the Oval Office. Debbie offers him the names of the folks in the room, all of whom are the family members of the Marines being held hostage in Fake Africa. One of the family members is a three-year-old, and Debbie promises, "I'll take care of it." Oh, man. I don't have kids specifically because of how much I would fear leaving a three-year-old in hands as capable as hers. POTUS tells her that this is his "first time doing this particular one" before walking into the room and introducing himself to the assemblage. He sends "Betty" the small one into the room before sitting down with the four assembled family members and listening as a woman in her fifties, I guess, tells POTUS, "No one can tell us anything." A Mr. Hernandez asks flat-out, "They've been beaten?" POTUS affirms that they have, and the only comfort (or, in fact, the only information at all) he can give is that they're "currently negotiating for Red Cross access so they can get medical attention." Betty's mother hazards asking where they're being held, and POTUS can only answer that he's unable to give them any further information. Leo at this point interrupts with the information that "Delta just got it right in Ghana," which zips us...
...back down to the Sit Room, where DJ Fresh Fitz talks jargonistically about the rescue plan. Helicopters. Guns. "The CIA wet team," whatever that is. Leo asks how long they have to get the whole thing done, and Fitz tells them, "Forty-seven minutes to get there, from the President's 'go' order. That's radio silence. Two hours to get it done." POTUS wants to know, "Why the CIA wet team? We're not near water." But he's quickly set straight by Fitz's response, "We call it the wet team because it's bloody." Ugh. "I had to ask." Exactly. ["Plus, Mr. President, Glark and I -- neither of whom have any ties to the military or intelligence communities -- knew the answer to the question you posed. Please watch 24 sometime, because that was some weak and implausible exposition." -- Wing Chun] POTUS asks what the operation is called, and we learn with him that it's "Task Force Dawn Sky." A dramatic pause precedes POTUS offering a "go." At least it's not called "Operation Wet Team." I'm not sure I can stand hearing those words again.
Winnie finds Will in a busy outer office and hands him what they've got so far. Will wants to know, "Where's everyone else?" and he finds out that they asked Winnie to bring it to him. Will asks if they're scared of him, and Winnie deadpans a simple "Yes." Will walks a few steps away, stopping to ask Winnie, "What did Cassie mean when she said, 'Your sister was right about you'?" Oh, sorry. She wasn't a Lauren. She was a Cassie. Meh. Will takes one look at the notes and objects to the words "redistributed tax plan," which he hates. He doesn't like that the notes are all numbers numbers numbers, and Winnie hops in to say that she called him a "hard-ass." She calls him "Willie" to piss him off on purpose and get his attention to offer a little speech that sounds much as follows: "Sputnik crashed down on your head overnight. You were concentrating on one speech and suddenly you're deputy director. And the director's a continent away and the speechwriting staff quit." Will frets, trapped in a attack of not-entirely self-pitying conscience, "Because of me." No, Winnie argues, "because they're idiots. And then the tax plan's out two days early, and you weren't here for the nine months before, so you're cramming it. And you're taking it all out on four defenseless interns who, by the way, think that Sputnik's crashed on their heads, too." What an impassioned recap. But, Sputnik? Is there a more antiquated reference? Why not just say that "the Hindenberg" crashed down? Or one of those propeller airplanes with the giant wings in those early Wright Brothers filmstrips that move just a leeetle too fast? Or...oh, forget it. Anyway, Will relents and says that he'll "make notes" on what Winnie's given him. Will takes a moment to look around the office and walks toward a glass-paned wall. He rests his fingertips gently on said glass, and the unsecured panel tips forward and smashed into a million pieces on the floor. That was such a leftover Sports Night visual gag I can't believe Guillaume himself didn't just walk over from obscurity to point and laugh.
It's Sunday afternoon at the DNC, and FLOTUS offers a speech in which she introduces great women who have helped out the Democratic cause during her husband's first term. Up at the dais, Amy accidentally knocks over a candle and spends several awkward moments putting out a small but distracting fire that lands her the less-than-flattering introduction from FLOTUS, "Amy Gardner, who has had seven jobs in three years." FLOTUS ends the speech graciously and even manages to tack on a Seaborn plug over the applause, and we cut to Amy and FLOTUS outside, Amy apologizing profusely. FLOTUS doesn't seem much to care, asking in a seeming non sequitur, "How did you live with Josh Lyman?" FLOTUS is still mad. Amy asks what she's talking about, exactly, so FLOTUS expands on the story we've already seen develop. Amy tells her that they never technically lived together. FLOTUS asks whether Amy wanted to "kill him" when he made condescending statements such as the ones he made to FLOTUS in his office just the other day, and Amy levels with FLOTUS that "my problem was that I wanted to jump him when he said things like that." FLOTUS listens to her for what is apparently the first time in this conversation, asking, "Where did you get your mouth?" Amy's got the answer at the ready: "Brown, and then Yale Law School." Ladies and gentlemen, the first joke about strong women and the schools they attended that doesn't involve a punchline including the word "Vassar." So, thanks for that. But thank you mostly for making fun of Yale.
FLOTUS's attention is once again compromised by a woman with a six-month-lapsed perm and a TJ Maxx blouse. ["It's Lee Garlington, who also plays Mrs. Abbott on Everwood." -- Wing Chun] FLOTUS tells Amy that this approaching woman is "Alana Waterman," who is about to "zatz" her "on fair pay." "Zatz"? Does the First Lady have "make up new word" privilege as part of her presidential perks? ["Also, who is she -- Lindsay Nagel? Is she also going to tell us about 'zing,' 'zork,' and 'kapowza'?" -- Wing Chun] FLOTUS asks Amy to "save" her. Amy asks if she's sure. She responds that she is. Uh oh. And so Alana makes her way over, quickly complimenting FLOTUS on her speech before moving onto the awkward segue: "I'm not sure if you saw my op-ed this morning." Amy kicks in that she's seen it, deeming it "terrific." And "courageous." Why? "Because the leadership wanted fair pay done quietly...but you said 'screw the leadership,' and I think that's courageous." She adds that this move could be interpreted as "left-wing overreaching" and that it "embarrassed" the First Lady in this morning's newspaper, and Alana's all faced and walks away with barely another word. FLOTUS offers Amy a look of horror, and Amy's all, "You said 'save me.'" FLOTUS clarifies one wacky scene too late: "I meant walk me to the other side of the room or something." Amy looks sheepish. Whatever. She already set herself on fire in public. What else besides guerrilla tactics could she really be expected to employ?
Back outside the Oval Office, Leo sits with the Marines' families, the slightly older woman with the I-quit-smoking- juuuuuust-about- a-minute-ago rasp in her voice breaking a long silence by asking, "So this is what it looks like from where you are, Mr. McGarry." Leo doesn't understand, so she continues: "The comfortable chairs. And the bodyguards." Leo tries some traditional spin, explaining that "when the U.S. is involved in a military conflict anywhere in the world, the Chief of Staff is given increased security. It's just...is that what you meant?" What she meant was that "the Bartlet people are not ones for joining the service. Did you serve?" He did. A lot. In Vietnam. Oops. She apologizes. She stands as Mr. Hernandez whispers another line about whether his son is being tortured or not. Leo can't tell him anything. Margaret knocks on the door to let him know it's coming up on two hours, and Leo takes his leave of the Oval Office while Mr. Hernandez waits for his one line and the smoky Mrs. Rowe puts on another patch over her patch.
Sunday Evening. Donna approaches Josh with the news that he got a fax from Amy, which he asks her to read aloud. She says that it just looks like "some campaign updates," but as she starts reading, she is interrupted by a Maddy Tatum, who drops by to ask a question about the HHS budget and the immunization money Josh had discussed with the First Lady. Josh takes a look at it and notes, "This isn't what we had this morning." She lets him know that "the change was made in the galleys," asking whether he proofread it. He asks Donna was a growing tone of concern, "Did I proofread it?" Donna responds that he did indeed proofread it, but "you proofread it to make sure that 'capital' was an 'a' and not an 'o.'" Maddy suggests that it was Max who proofread it, but so Josh brashly announces that "Max doesn't know anything" that Donna is forced to put Josh in his place with a stern "don't yell at her." Josh surmises that the change was slipped by him and made by someone who would know Josh wouldn't have proofread the HHS final. He turns to Donna and tells her to read the rest of Amy's fax, which she does. Blah blah blah until, "Mrs. B. says you're encouraging her to hire a new Chief of Staff. Need treasury breakdown of cap gains cut. First Lady took your advice, just hired me. Weather here is seventy-four degrees and partly cloudy." Josh walks away in shock as Donna notes that a "new chapter" has begun.
Back in California, Toby and C.J. retire to an office as C.J. applies makeup to go with an entirely slinky evening gown. Toby pours insane amounts of sand out of his shoes and tells C.J. that he still has sand in his shoes "from six hours ago." C.J. takes this as a song cue for the opening number in The West Wing: The Musical ["'Once More, With Pedeconferencing'?" -- Wing Chun], crooning a number and displaying simply a lovely vibrato, vocalizing, "Sand in my shoes. Sand from Havana." Charlie comes in with the message that FLOTUS wants to talk about "the House vote on the nutrition assistance program" at tonight's fahn-cy dinner. C.J. and Toby agree that this is a very bad idea. Charlie asks why, and C.J. notes that if FLOTUS talks about the less fortunate while wearing a $4000 evening gown, it will make her look like "Marie Antoinette." C.J. recommends that Charlie send that message right along to her, and Charlie asks, "You want me to tell Mrs. Bartlet she's going to look like a dilettante?" C.J. keeps the tone light and breezy, excusing herself, "I once had to tell the President he was wearing two different shoes." A huffy Charlie crosses paths with an entering Sam, who is made at some changes Toby has made in Sam's speech. Toby suggests they go. They go.
The situation maintains silence, radio and otherwise. POTUS asks at what point they're allowed to start worrying, explaining that it's been over four hours since the operation began. A voice comes across the radio to let us know that the "cargo is on board," and as the place breaks into applause, POTUS asks them to affirm once more that the hostages are all safe. But the celebration is cut right short with Fitz's announcement that "Red Haven't on fire." A bomb has gone off at the base in Ghana where the Deltas practiced, and we learn that a suicide bomber has attacked the base.
POTUS sends Leo up to talk to the families, and he walks in with the simple message, "They're safe." Smiles and hugs are exchanged, and Leo explains further that they're on their way to a hospital in Germany and they'll be back on American soil the following day. Leo adds that there has been a terrorist attack at the makeshift base they set up to practice for the rescue. Then he walks out.
Will reads some super-polished speech language that he credits to one of the Laurens, and does the same for another. "I wrote that?" she asks. She did. "I'm very good." He apologizes for his Republican Vogue comment (awww, don't take that one back!) before informing the interns about the suicide bomber in Ghana. He tells them that they'll be putting the tax plan aside in light of this new development, adding on his way out, "You all did well. I'll see you tomorrow." As he turns to leave, he hears the girls busily getting back to work, so he tells Winnie, "I don't think they understood. They can go home." Winnie assures him, "They understood." Great. an intern can become President in Rock 'n' Roll Prez, starring Frankie Muniz and brought to you by the Disney Channel in conjunction with the terror I feel at having these children putting words in the President's mouth.
"We are preaching to the choir and that is all that we are doing," Sam yells to Toby, walking into a bar and discovering Toby is no longer behind him. Toby finally catches up, and Sam complains that all the groups he's spoken to today are people who are voting for him already. He wants to know why. Toby explains, "The story's going to be that you stood up for what you believe in." And so Sam finally gets it: "I'm going to lose." Toby assures him that he will. They hug in solidarity because Toby is standing by him anyway, but their manlove reverie is quickly broken by the appearance of a bartender, who informs them in a most unlikely way, "There was a terrorist bombing in Africa, at an army base." And yes, America is totally much more attuned to news of terrorism than we used to be, but I'm still not sure a bombing at an army base is the first thing off a bartender's lips whenever a patron enters the premises. I'm not saying that it's right; I'm just saying that it's true. Nevertheless, Toby and Sam affirm that they already knew that, thanks, and they clink shots to Toby's toast, "God save the President of the United States." They walk out of the bar. Where's the Pope and the Protestant when you need 'em?