By Deborah
Previously on The West Wing: Bruno Gianelli wanted unfettered access to POTUS, but was told he couldn't have it; Abby realized that the reason they're making a case against her is because they don't have one against the President; Leo suggested leaking the fact that Buckland tried to blackmail the President; Abby told Jed to go to hell.
The scene opens with a shot of the Presidential Seal on the rug in the Oval Office, and Jed's and C.J.'s feet. They're sitting in the side chairs alongside the sofas. POTUS says, "I'm not wild about Camp David. I'm not the only one, either. Bess Truman didn't like it. I read that somewhere. She thought it was dull." Like this scene, and much of this episode? He continues, "But there I go: Thanksgiving at Camp David." C.J., whose affect is almost that of one in a coma, says, "Yeah." Sure, she's supposed to be bored silly, but the whole thing is so tortured and flat that it comes off really badly. Just wait. You'll see. He states that it's not a place you'd go at Thanksgiving, particularly if (as he does), you have a farm. C.J. inquires, "Isn't Camp David a farm?" Oh, good Lord. I really and truly think the White House Press Secretary would know this. Even if she's never been there, which she probably hasn't. I've never been there, and I know it's not a farm. Along with much of the viewing audience, POTUS wonders why C.J. would think that. C.J. shrugs, and with something like meek indifference replies, "I don't know...it's outside?" Attention staffers: Leave. The. White. House. Now. Could these people possibly need to get a life any more than they do? Suggestion: Go outside once in a while. The graphics are amazing. POTUS tells her that farms have things you can grow, and animals. (Like at Manchester, where they were a couple of months ago?) How much of a bubble does she live in? She's never heard "I'm Too Sexy" before Autumn 2001, and she has no idea that Camp David is a mountain retreat? POTUS informs her semi-sternly, "I want you to learn more about farms." C.J. -- lightly, trying not to sound too sarcastic or weary: "There's more?" She pretends to agree to this. Actually, it sounds like she needs to learn more about Camp David.
POTUS continues rambling on, saying, "Thanksgiving's where your family is, and this year my family's at Camp David. Why, I do not know...Abby didn't want to schlep to New Hampshire." Well, could that have anything to do with the woman's broken ankle? I wonder. "'Schlepping' in a 747. It's not like we were going to have to carry our own bags or anything. But I do not argue." C.J. and I struggle to maintain consciousness. He suddenly wonders if he and C.J. were talking about something. She replies, "I don't know, sir. When I came in here, back in the late '50s, there was a purpose to it. But then one thing led to another and I blacked out. I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, sir, but somewhere during the discussion of anise and coriander and the other fifteen spices you like to use to baste a turkey, I simply lost consciousness!" He's not amused and gives her a forbidding look: "You know that line you're not supposed to cross with the President?" C.J.: "I'm coming up on it?" POTUS: "No, no. Look behind you." C.J.: "Yes, sir." He asks if she would like to leave. She replies, "With your permission, sir." Jed: "Damn right with my permission." She almost makes her escape, but before she gets to the door, Jed adds, "It's the brine that keeps the meat soft, lady. You soak it overnight in water, salt, sugar..." She interjects, "Seventeen kinds..." He says, "Seventeen kinds of spices, including?" She's almost out the door but sticks her head back in and says, "Anise and coriander." Jed: "Now you can go." She thanks him and closes the door.
POTUS continues rambling on, saying, "Thanksgiving's where your family is, and this year my family's at Camp David. Why, I do not know...Abby didn't want to schlep to New Hampshire." Well, could that have anything to do with the woman's broken ankle? I wonder. "'Schlepping' in a 747. It's not like we were going to have to carry our own bags or anything. But I do not argue." C.J. and I struggle to maintain consciousness. He suddenly wonders if he and C.J. were talking about something. She replies, "I don't know, sir. When I came in here, back in the late '50s, there was a purpose to it. But then one thing led to another and I blacked out. I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, sir, but somewhere during the discussion of anise and coriander and the other fifteen spices you like to use to baste a turkey, I simply lost consciousness!" He's not amused and gives her a forbidding look: "You know that line you're not supposed to cross with the President?" C.J.: "I'm coming up on it?" POTUS: "No, no. Look behind you." C.J.: "Yes, sir." He asks if she would like to leave. She replies, "With your permission, sir." Jed: "Damn right with my permission." She almost makes her escape, but before she gets to the door, Jed adds, "It's the brine that keeps the meat soft, lady. You soak it overnight in water, salt, sugar..." She interjects, "Seventeen kinds..." He says, "Seventeen kinds of spices, including?" She's almost out the door but sticks her head back in and says, "Anise and coriander." Jed: "Now you can go." She thanks him and closes the door.
Just outside the Oval Office, C.J. runs into Josh, who appears to have been waiting there for her. He asks how she's doing; she says, "I'm done, baby." She kind of jazzily struts over to him, gently snapping her fingers. Well, she recovered quickly. As she walks over, she rapidly announces all the things she's done: set up a meeting, did a briefing, pardoned the turkey, and went to the dentist. They walk together as Josh says, "So there are these two Indians in the lobby..." Before we go much further, let me just tell you, I made a little bet with myself when I found out that the title of this episode had changed from the originally publicized "The Butterball Hotline," to "The Indians in the Lobby." The bet was that we would hear the phrase "Indians in the lobby" repeated at least five times in this episode, per the trend lately on this show to repeat certain phrases and dialogue to an annoying degree. My final tally was five and half, not counting the title. The half was for a reference to "Indians sitting in the lobby." So I won the bet. I should have bet something good. Also, I might as well just get this out of the way, since I'm going to have to hear it over and over: I am one of those people who finds it annoying that we're still (how many centuries after Columbus?) referring to aboriginal North Americans as "Indians." I don't think it's simply a matter of the dreaded "political correctness" to refer to them as native peoples, aboriginal peoples, peoples of the First Nations, etc. It's more accurate, and it emphasizes the political, geographical, legal, and social bases for their land claims and efforts to rectify the numerous and egregious injustices done them by European explorers and settlers. Plus, since I'm married to an actual Indian, it's tiresome and annoying to have to use silly expressions like "East Indian" in order to accurately convey his ancestry when the topic comes up. It's more than a little ridiculous to have to qualify the descent of someone whose parents and ancestors for several generations are actually from India.
In his office, Josh asks Sam whether he heard about the little assassin in Georgia. Josh says that his parents "FedExed him to Rome, which is in Italy." Sam: "Are you kidding me?" Josh: "No, it's really in Italy." As Josh (unasked) grabs Sam a bottle of water from the little bar fridge and tosses it to him, Sam realizes that the problem is that Italy won't extradite because of the death penalty in Georgia. Josh says, "They've come a long way since Mussolini." Sam says, "You should mention that." Josh: "I will." Sam sits down, announcing, "So, it turns out we've got four million new poor people." Josh: "Since when?" Sam: "Well, yesterday, actually." Josh guesses that the OMB is recommending a new model. Josh replies, "Well, I'm not an expert, but wouldn't we have a better chance of getting re-elected if we could say there are four million fewer poor people? Hang on. Wait. I am an expert." Sam states that he thinks they'd have a better chance of getting re-elected if there actually were four million fewer poor people. Sam's going to be talking to Bernice Collette from the OMB and try to get her to hold off on the new model for a while. Josh is doing some stuff just outside his office door. He asks whether Sam knows Bernice. Sam doesn't seem to know her. Josh indicates, "She's, uh, a little tough to warm up." Sam says he'll warm her up. Josh seems skeptical: "Yeah?" Sam gets up and walks to the door and says: "Jokes, nicknames, that sort of thing..." Josh thinks it sounds like Sam has a pretty good plan. Sam asks whether there's anything else he needs to know, mainly because it hasn't been mentioned in the last ninety-seven seconds that there are Indians in the lobby. Josh tells him: "Don't go through the lobby." Sam: "Why?" Josh: "Indians in the lobby." Sam asks, "Is that code?" Josh: "No. There are Indians in the lobby." Josh goes back into his office. Sam glances toward the lobby and walks off in the opposite direction.
POTUS, as he signs some documents, is regaling Charlie with Thanksgiving-related gripes and turkey lore, telling him that Bess Truman thought Camp David was dull. Jed hands him the folder and says, "As long as you've got an oven that will go to 320°..." Er...are there a lot of ovens that don't? I mean, I'm no Martha Stewart; I'm not even a Nigella Lawson, but I was under the impression that all standard ovens can operate to at least 500°. He continues, "You take your turkey, which has been soaking overnight in water, salt, coriander..." Someone knocks. Nancy (Jed's assistant/Martin Sheen's daughter, not the NSA advisor) tells him that Toby's there, and asks if she can send him in. Charlie quickly says, "Yes." Jed looks at him questioningly. Charlie, remembering his place, says, "Yeah, well, that's obviously a question for you, sir." Jed: "She was asking me." Charlie says he'll step out. Jed: "Yeah."
Toby comes in, greets Jed, and says, "Before anything else, I was hoping I could impose on you for as much information as you can spare about making a turkey." Chuckle. Jed: "This is some preemptive psychological thing?" Toby admits it is. Jed: "That's not going to work." Toby's mildly disheartened, but sits down and mentions that Jed's going to be seeing in week's message calendar a notation about a new federal initiative to provide low-cost cell phones to neighbourhood-watch groups. Jed says he's seen the calendar, and he's having some difficulty navigating the colour coding. Toby explains that the colours represent areas: blue is for education, green's for the economy, etc. Jed replies, "Well, there should be a separate colour for things I don't care about." Toby: "Like what?" POTUS replies, "Providing low-cost cell phone service to neighbourhood-watch groups." Toby says it's important. Jed: "Really?" Toby says, "You spot a crime. You going to go to a pay phone?" Well, I would, if I could find one anymore. I don't know about anywhere else, but in Southern Ontario phone booths and pay phones have become about as scarce as people who enjoy turkeys seasoned with anise and coriander. Ever since the advent of cell phones, and as such phones get cheaper and cheaper, pay phones have been gradually disappearing. Yeah, you can still find a bank of them in an airport or train station or maybe at a major subway station, but I remember walking blocks around Yorkville (one of Toronto's snootier shopping areas, dense with high-rise office buildings and plenty of stores and restaurants) in a nearly vain search for a pay phone until I remembered that there was a pay phone outside the third-floor washroom of a big-box bookstore. That was pretty much the last straw, and Professor Frink got me a cell phone at the gift-giving opportunity. Also, I've read complaints from residents of less privileged neighbourhoods in the Greater Toronto Area that the pay phones in their areas don't work after dark; apparently some of them are timed to work only during daylight hours so that drug dealers can't avail themselves of the pay phones. (Don't drug deals happen during the day, too? ["Don't drug dealers have cell phones?" -- Wing Chun]) I guess people in those neighbourhoods had just better hope they don't have any pay phone-related emergencies. God knows those hardly ever come up in higher-crime areas. Anyway. That's Nurseable Grudge #137.
Jed says there's nothing wrong with the policy, it's just that it's too small: "I could fund this initiative out of my pocket." Toby mentions it's $10 million. Without missing a beat, Jed says: "Leo could fund it out of his pocket." That's at least the second reference and possibly the third to Leo's affluence. I'd like to know the deal there. Jed thinks this should be something local government deals with. Toby points out that people like it if, in addition to passing large and abstract pieces of legislation, the government passes small and minute and easy-to-understand pieces of legislation. Jed asks how popular this is; Toby replies, "Eighty-two percent." Jed: "Get out of here." Toby: "Hand to God." Jed replies, "Bring me that polling data." Toby gets up and as he's leaving, asks, "What kind of stuffing are we talking about?" Jed answers, "Cornbread, oysters, water chestnuts, and Andouille sausage." That sounds, not to put too fine a point on it, hideous. He's cooking it inside the turkey. Toby tells him he had better make sure it cooks; otherwise people will be very, very sick. Jed insists he's got it covered. He asks if there's anything else. Toby wonders if POTUS knows about the new OMB definitions. Jed knows they're coming out, and asks what they're going to look like. Toby: "That depends. You want more poor people or fewer poor people?" Jed: "Fewer poor people." Toby says, "You got it. Thank you, Mr. President." He wanders out and we go to commercial.
"Caraway seeds, thyme, cornbread, oysters, water chestnuts, and Andouille sausage." Jed is in the doorway between his office and Leo's, regaling him with the ingredients for his stuffing. Leo tries to care: "Sounds good." Jed, in one of the inexplicable and ongoing displays of increasing idiocy, or perhaps early senility, states that Toby pointed out that you have to be careful when you cook stuffing inside the turkey, because if it's not fully cooked people can get very sick. I don't think "duh" is too strong a word for me to use here. Surely the average person is dimly aware of the dangers that can accompany undercooked meat? Ever heard of salmonella poisoning? Escherichia coli? Surely this Nobel-prize-winning, doctorate-holding, livestock-owning farmer manqué who also happens to be the freaking President of the United States (FPOTUS, ™ me) has encountered the notion of dangerous, possibly fatal, bacteria that can exist in a range of things from undercooked beef and unpasteurized milk to sprouts and lettuce? And he'll be addressing the complex issue of bovine spongiform encephalopathy (mad cow disease) week? God help us. Or maybe it's just an excuse to fill some time with inane banter. Or maybe it's a big set-up for the Butterball Hotline scene. Or maybe I just need a big drink of Kool-Aid. I don't know anymore. Martin Sheen does his best to sell it, but...guh. It's kind of like he's parodying the way he usually plays Jed. Or like he's playing someone else playing him as Jed, if you get what I mean. Anyway, Leo's heard of it. Jed thinks Toby might have been playing with him. Leo suggests that Toby might be. Jed: "But you say you've heard of it?" Leo: "Maybe I am, too." Jed: "Nah, you don't have that kind of wit." Jed says he needs to talk to an expert. Leo says, "Talk to René." Jed says he can't ask René. Leo yells for Margaret and asks her to try the head chef at home. Jed quickly tells her not to bother. She leaves. Jed repeats that he can't ask René right now: "Well, frankly, I thought he did something stupid and inconsiderate last week, but it turns out I was just in a bad mood." Leo: "You gave him a firm talking-to." Jed: "Yes, and while he didn't deserve it, he will someday soon." Dude, you are the FPOTUS. I think the guy will answer the question for you, his employer. Charlie appears to say the polling data Jed asked for has arrived. As he returns to the Oval Office, Jed asks Leo, "Eighty-two percent are in favour of fixing potholes?" Leo acknowledges this.
As Charlie and Jed walk back into the Oval Office, Jed says, "If they want the nickel-and-dime stuff, I'll tell you one thing we can do. This time of the year, there should be a hotline you can call with questions about cooking turkeys. A special 800 number, where the phones are staffed by experts." Charlie says that there is: The Butterball Hotline. Jed takes off his glasses, astonished: "Butterball has a hotline?" Wow, the Butterball people must be ecstatic with this product placement. I wonder why the name of the episode was changed? Anyway, Jed asks, "Are you kidding me?" Charlie says he isn't. Jed touches his chest lightly in the area of his heart and looks up briefly, saying, "God, I'm sorry. I love my country. Charlie, get me the number for the Butterball hotline." Charlie starts to zip off when Jed starts reading the polling data and indicates he doesn't think Charlie brought him the right poll. Jed keeps looking through it and says, "Son of a bitch...find Bruno Gianelli. Tell him I want to see him right away."
Sam meets with Bernice. He shakes her hand, saying, "How you doing, Bernie?" She politely but firmly says, "I'm not wild about people calling me 'Bernie.'" He asks what he should call her; she says "Bernice" is fine. Sammy asks, "But how will you know I'm your buddy?" She responds, "I'm okay living in the dark on that." They walk toward Sam's office as he asks her to tell him how they arrived at the current poverty standard -- by which he means the one they've been using, not the new one, which hasn't been approved yet. She says they have to sign off on the new standard because it's much more accurate. She explains, "In 1963, an Eastern European immigrant named Molly Orshansky -- who was working over in Social Security -- came up with it. Food was the most costly living expense where she came from." Sam asks, "Our cost-of-living formula for the last forty years has based on life in Poland during the Cold War?" Bernice says, "This is what I'm talking about. Food doesn't account for one third of a family's budget. Housing is more expensive than food. The current model also doesn't take into account transportation and health insurance. So let's call the current model the old model and sign off on the new model." Sam invites her to sit down.
Josh talks to Russ Angler about extraditing the adolescent teacher-killer. They're walking through the halls, down a stairway. Russ says that the kid's being held at San Vitale in Rome. Josh asks whether Russ has ever seen anything like this before. Russ points out that because the kid's a minor, it's uncharted territory. He adds that unless the eligibility papers meet all the treaty obligations, they're going to have to release the kid, and not into anyone's custody. They'll just release him. That doesn't sit well with Josh. Russ explains, "It's a provisional arrest. We don't have the paperwork right, the Foreign Minister's going to review and decline extradition. They have no grounds to hold him." He didn't break any Italian laws. Josh asks, "They're going to give him a Eurail pass and a backpack?" Russ says that the Governor has to guarantee that he's not going to seek the death penalty. Josh replies, "First of all, it's not up to the Governor. It's up to the DeKalb DA. And second of all, this is Georgia." Russ: "Then we're not getting the kid back. 'Extradition shall be refused unless the requesting party provides such assurances as the requested party considers sufficient that the death penalty shall not be imposed.' I didn't write the U.S./Italian extradition treaty." Josh comments, "This kid shoots his teacher in the head and gets life in Venice, we're all going to look like idiots. I gotta put this out before it's in the papers. What do I do now?" Russ suggests that Josh speak to the Charge d'Affaires at the Italian Embassy. Josh asks Russ to set it up today, and thanks him.
They continue chatting about the book as they walk outside to a splendid courtyard -- and it's looking pretty balmy for late November -- where they sit down. Josh says he'll ask around for the book. Alberto immediately launches into the meat of the matter: "You stand hand in hand with no other nation on this except Somalia. You know that, don't you? Even China doesn't allow children to be executed." Um, when was the last time the United States executed a thirteen-year-old? Or a minor, for that matter? Josh says that federal law doesn't allow it, but the people in the state of Georgia do, so there's not a lot he can do about it. I did some searching and found this on LawForKids.org: "...if the defendant was under the age of 16 when the offense was committed, the death penalty is not available. The United States Supreme Court held that the death penalty cannot be applied to someone who was that young when they committed the offense. See the opinion at Thompson vs. Oklahoma, 487 U.S 815 (1988)." Perhaps some of the lawyers in our midst (harper? Sheef?) could comment on the validity/relevance of this in the forums. Josh asks Alberto to please have the ambassador speak to the foreign minister and send the kid back. Alberto proposes a scenario: Josh is in a restaurant sitting at the table over from a little girl who's misbehaving, running around and throwing food. Her father decides to punish her by cracking a wine bottle over her head, throwing her to the ground, and kicking her repeatedly. Alberto asks Josh what he would do. Huh? How is this analogous? Josh points out that the kid who shot his teacher wasn't throwing food. Alberto asks, "Is there a crime that girl could commit that would have justified what her father did?" Well, obviously people have differing views on the matter, but typically people who support the death penalty do so in cases where the person in question is convicted of murder. Clearly some people feel that an eye for an eye is just. I'm not saying whether they're right -- simply that many people feel that there are indeed crimes that justify the death penalty. Josh sighs and looks uncomfortable and says, "See, it's -- it's problematic when other people make my arguments for me." That's what Alberto's doing? I thought Josh's argument was that the kid should be sent back. ["I thought maybe by that Josh meant he isn't so wild about the death penalty himself, even though he's been charged to take care of this matter." -- Wing Chun] Alberto says, "If the father said, 'This is my child and I will punish her any way I choose,' would you come to the conclusion that this father has lost all perspective and good judgment and should be removed from the equation?" Josh regards Alberto for a moment and then says, "Okay, I'm going to, uh...I'll ask around about the book." Alberto nods and thanks him. Josh sips espresso from a delicate gold-banded cup.
C.J. returns to her office, running into Carol, who shakes her head in response to C.J.'s questioning look. C.J. talks to Carol, trying to find someone who can help Maggie and Jack. But anyone and everyone who might be able to help -- the Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs, the Deputy Director of Intergovernmental Affairs, the Deputy of Acquisition and Property Management, the Deputy of Tribal Services -- has left for Thanksgiving. Carol says, "Nobody's here." C.J. says, "I'm here! They're here! You're here!" Carol says, sort of under her breath but not so much that C.J. wouldn't hear it, "God knows that." C.J. goes back into her office and then comes right back out, telling Carol to inform Leo's office that she's on her way over.
Josh speaks to Leo about the DeKalb case. Leo finally tells Josh that the reason the White House is involving itself in a matter that would normally be handled at the local and state level is that he doesn't want the President to get a phone call from the Pope about this. This kid's parents sure were clever, sending him to Rome. Josh agrees with Leo that they do not want it to be taken to that level. Leo tells Josh to forget the Italians and try to work it from their side. Josh says that means getting the DA to guarantee he won't ask for the death penalty, and wonders how they're supposed to do that. Leo says, "DeKalb's the Georgia Fourth. When Drier was elected from the Georgia Fourth, election before last, Faragut was who he beat." Faragut's the DeKalb DA. Josh considers this for a moment and says, "Well, I suppose there's a time for scruples and a time for...you know..." Leo: "Not?" Josh: "Yeah." Leo tells him that Faragut's left the office, but that he's going to be on the 8 PM US Airways flight out of Hartsfield going to DFW. Josh is on it, and leaves.
Out in the hallway, Donna's perched on a narrow table making some notes while she speaks on the phone. She hangs up and tells Josh she's got him on standby on a direct flight to Boca, where he can rent a car. He tells her to cancel it because he needs a layover in Atlanta. Donna groans and says, "Of course you do." Josh says, "I need to get there about an hour before an eight o'clock flight would take off." Donna: "That would be around seven?" Josh sighs. "I haven't done the math." Maybe...you're not the guy to comment on the new OMB formulas. He says that he also needs some information on Faragut, starting with a recent picture. He also tells her to call his mother and tell her he'll be late. Donna: "Josh? You call your mother." Josh: "Right."
Sam is pacing outside Toby's office again. Toby's packing up to leave. He notices Sam and says, "I should be able to at least fire paintballs at you while you do that." That I'd like to see. Sam says, "It's harder to get elected if you feature the underclass. It's harder to help them if you hide 'em." That is a sticky wicket. Toby suggests that they recalibrate the formula to make everyone over the $20,000 line rich, and everyone under it middle-class. Sam: "Then they'd all vote Republican, wouldn't they?" Toby chuckles mirthlessly. Sam says he thinks they should talk to Bruno when they all get back from the weekend. Toby asks why. Sam explains, "Because I think that if it's anything short of a torpedo in the side of the campaign, we should take it to Leo." That doesn't sound right, does it? Maybe he's being sarcastic. He adds, "I think even if it is a torpedo in the side of the campaign, we should do it, but that's me, and I don't imagine I'd rally much support around that." Some assistant (Bonnie? Not sure. The person's almost entirely off-screen) hands Toby a nice-looking shopping bag. Toby acknowledges that. Sam concludes that they should talk to Bruno. Toby leaves, saying, "See you Monday." Sam, almost always nice and polite and considerate, says, "Have a good Thanksgiving." Without looking back, Toby (fairly loaded down with his coat, scarf, briefcase and shopping bag) says, "You too."
C.J. is cogitating in her office. She sitting by a window in what looks like late afternoon or sunset light. Carol comes in and tells her Security's nervous. C.J. asks what they're nervous about. All together now, with Carol: "The Indians in the lobby." C.J.: "No, I mean, nervous about what? It's a lawyer and a Michigan Wolverine. I think we can take 'em. We always do." She tosses her pencil away in frustration. Carol's trying to tell C.J. that Security's going to do its thing. C.J. says she'll be there in a minute. Carol hustles off.
Outside, Toby catches up to Bruno, who's also leaving the White House. (It's completely dark now, by the way.) Toby asks him, "Did you get hauled in?" Bruno says he did, and that he and Jed "had a conversation." These two sure have buddied up. But where's Shrug? Toby tells Bruno about the OMB coming out with a new formula to calculate the poverty level. Bruno asks, "Show of hands?" Hee. Toby explains that now they've got to campaign with four million new poor people. Bruno asks, "That's the problem? Not that someone making $21,000 a year is considered comfortable?" Okay, suddenly I find myself liking Bruno. And that's just wrong. Toby says they're working on that, too. Bruno tells him to keep working on it, and that he'll sell the other thing. Toby wonders how; Bruno says, "Same way P.T. Barnum sold a truckload of white salmon: by sticking labels on them that said: 'Guaranteed not to go pink in the can.' I have this fish thing going on today..." Toby: "What the hell are you...?" Bruno: "'Are you telling me this formula's been broken for years and the other guys haven't fixed it?' Like that." He asks whether Toby would like to get a quick drink. Toby says no, gesturing a bit with the shopping bag: he's got nieces and nephews...aw, Uncle Toby. He says they'll meet on this Monday. Bruno mutters to himself, "Truckload of white salm--" Then he calls out to Toby, "You ever even heard of white salmon?" Toby has not. Bruno walks away muttering, "Guy could sell anything." That's the Bruno we know and er...love: a guy who worships P.T. Barnum.
Atlanta, Georgia. An airport announcement advises us: "Do not leave any baggage unattended." Indeed. Josh walks up to a bar counter, to a guy who must be Faragut, and orders a ginger ale. ["Gasp! That's my drink! It's like we're soulmates!" -- Wing Chun] Josh turns to the guy and says, "You're Mark Faragut, right?" He shakes his hand and introduces himself. Faragut seems surprised and pleased to meet Josh, and mentions that he just got a message from his office to call Josh. Josh knows. Faragut then looks concerned and wonders if Josh came all the way down there just to talk to him. Josh say, "No, my mom lives in Florida, but just technically." Faragut doesn't get it. Josh says it doesn't matter. Faragut starts to say something about the Governor, but Josh interjects, "The Italians aren't worried about the Governor, Mark. They're worried about you." Faragut replies, "Italy can't tell me how to prosecute my case. And no offense, Josh, but neither can you." Josh points out he doesn't have a defendant. Faragut: "You can't ask me to weaken my stance." Josh knows: "The Georgia Fourth is tough enough for a Democrat without appearing as if he's against the death penalty." Faragut says he's not against the death penalty. Josh says, "I said 'appearing.' And the only way to combat that is with TV time. You are planning on running again, right?" Faragut replies, "Apparently you don't know much about my last campaign." Josh tells him he raised $232,000 in four months, but then the well dried up after he prosecuted a corporate polluter and got painted as anti-business, leaving him with $41,500 for the last two months, and "that was the ball game." Faragut's flight is announced. Josh pulls an envelope out of his jacket, puts it on the counter, and says, "Guarantee you won't seek the death penalty, and you'll have an endless media buy to explain it to your district." Endless? Faragut looks uncomfortable and says, "Josh, please tell me there's no money in that envelope." Josh says there isn't: "In a manner of speaking." Faragut: "Names?" Josh: "Yeah. Three of them. None of them local. Do what I'm telling you and all three of them will take your call." Faragut: "I can win this time." Josh says Faragut's flight is boarding. They wish each other a good Thanksgiving. Faragut leaves as Josh's ginger ale finally arrives. Josh takes a sip. Interesting how when one hand washes the other, neither of them seem to end up clean.
Abby arrives in the First Bedroom, where Jed is waiting for her, reading Poultry Fixings for the Presidential Soul. She's still in her wheelchair. A Secret Service guy is pushing the wheelchair. Abby says, "You summoned me?" Jed says he's sorry about that, and that he's also sorry about the fact that they're going to have to change plans. He tells her that they're going to have dinner at the White House, and that he's got Charlie calling everyone. I'll bet René will be real jazzed about that. Jed explains that he's seen some staggering polling information indicating that people are looking for steadiness, a father figure, and that they like it when he's in the White House. Abby asks, "You can't be a father figure at Camp David?" Jed guesses not. Abby says, "This is ridiculous. You can't change plans on people on the eleventh hour." Jed says it's no problem. Abby insists that it is, because when he's in the White House, all kinds of employees have to be there, and now they can't go home. Jed, blasé: "It's their job!" Abby: "It's Thanksgiving!" Jed says he's got polling numbers. Abby says, "Which say Camp David is fine." He slams his book shut with a boom, tears his glasses off, sits up, and cries, "J'accuse!" Abby: "Oh, brother." Jed: "J'accuse, mon petit fromage!" As he stands up, Abby says, "You speak four languages: how come none of them is French?" He insists that nothing's wrong with his French. Abby: "You just called me your 'little cheese!'" Jed defensively says, "That's right!" Abby says, "They came to me. They said, 'What do you think about having Thanksgiving at Camp David instead of New Hampshire?' They told me why. I said, 'Fine.'" Jed asks what part she's leaving out now. Abby: "The part where I lied to you." Jed: "Yes!" He hisses the "S." Abby says, "Yes, I do that sometimes. Sometimes I don't want to go fifteen rounds on Bess Truman and what constitutes a farm! On your behalf, I have responded to polling information telling me what I should wear, and what I should say, to say nothing of the fact that I have been subpoenaed to answer questions before Congress on how I secretly kept you alive! So explain to me now how what I did was out of line." Jed gently says, "You know what? It was." Abby says, "I know." How is it that her transgressions always seems to come off worse than his? Jed sits down to her. He mentions that the ingredients for stuffing have to be cooked before they're put in the turkey: "And you're not gonna know whether I did or not." Abby responds, "I'll do what I always do with anything you cook. I'll wait for the girls to eat it first." Jed says, "Me too." Neither of them are quite smiling, but at least they don't look annoyed with each other.
C.J. comes out to speak with Maggie and Jack. She pauses by the doorway, watching them. They are still standing in much the same place they have been all day. I think I would have had to sit down by now, myself. C.J. looks kind of unhappy. When she walks up in front of them, it turns out Jack has actually fallen asleep on his feet. He sways ever so slightly. Suddenly, C.J. starts with a pop quiz: "How many treaties have we signed with the Munsee Indians?" Jack's eyes open a bit. Maggie: "Six:" C.J.: "How many have we revoked?" Maggie: "Six." C.J.: "What were the Munsees doing in 1778?" Maggie: "Fighting in George Washington's army." C.J.: "And why aren't you in New York anymore?" Maggie: "'Cause you marched us to Wisconsin." C.J.: "And whose land was it in the first place?" Maggie: "Ours." I can't for the life of me figure out the point of C.J. quizzing Maggie on this other than to educate the audience to the sad facts, but if that the's point of the exchange, it's not a very elegant or creative way to get the information across. C.J. says that she's going to have the Park Police escort them from the building, and since that will take a few minutes, they can make whatever calls they need to make, or they can accept her offer to come back to her office to make an appointment for Monday, and the White House will cover their expenses. Jack's fully awake now. Maggie looks at him while he gazes at C.J. He finally says, "Okay." C.J., not sure which option he's accepting, asks, "Okay...what?" He says, "Okay...ma'am." He gives a small, wry smile. This line makes me unspeakably sad. If you watch Allison Janney closely here, she reacts to this unasked-for display of deference by wincing in a barely perceptible way. It's the most subtle thing in the whole episode by a country mile. C.J. clarifies, "No, 'okay,' you're..." Maggie says they'll come back to the office. C.J. asks, "How do you keep fighting these smaller injustices when they're all from the mother of injustices?" Maggie responds quite sincerely, "What's the alternative?" What, indeed?