Night Five

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.

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.

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.