Full Disclosure

Previously on The West Wing: Deborah kicked Aaron Sorkin's pretentious ass until he cried like a little girl. And then she went on to much, much better things. So pass the Parliaments, people -- you can bet your ass I'm packing a muumuu, and I'm not afraid to use it.

"Full Disclosure," the title card announces, and we fade in on a bank of monitors showing Taylor "Mohr's The Pity" Reid, announcing that he'll be right back with C.J. after a commercial. Ah, C.J. She's that tall chick who used to be an ass-kicker, right? Said ex-ass-kicker is just arriving at the studio, chatting with Toby on her cell phone as she walks in front of the work a bunch of people are trying to do in the control room. She's asking about something involving the dollar and the yen. Toby patiently explains that it's China, and that they don't use the yen in China. They use the yen in Japan. They use the yuan in China. It's a good thing C.J.'s not the press secretary or something, or I'd think she probably would know the monetary unit that's used in China. C.J. points out that Reid isn't going to ask her about the dollar and the yuan, but Toby counters that there are planned protests on tap for the day about cheap goods imported from China, so Reid in fact might. Toby, back at his desk, is handed an AP report claiming that a presidential commission is recommending a 50% increase in cigarette taxes, which seems to come as something of a surprise to our boy Mr. Ziegler. C.J. does think this sounds like something Reid will ask about, so Toby offers her some hasty details about how this seventeen-cent increase will raise $3.4 billion a year, and $16 billion over five years. He also mentions how many tobacco farmers you could buy off with that kind of money, the possible reduction in teenage smoking...all while Will "Beetle" Bailey comes charging in to bring up on Toby's computer the latest from Matt Drudge, with a big headline that says, "HOYNES TELLS ALL." Ruh-roh. There's a lot going on today.

Back at the Reid studio, C.J. hangs up on Toby before he can share this scoop, and Reid jumps directly in with her, opening with a crack about the "controlled environment" of the White House, which crack she confidently parries, because she is C.J., and "confidently parry" is in her skill set right to "be the best dressed woman on the red carpet." His gambit is the "president's secret plan to raise taxes." She isn't thrown by this at all, either, making it clear that she's seen the same AP report he has, and that it's nothing to get all riled up about. "The president hasn't even heard about it yet," she tells him. There is some back and forth about this, and Reid hits her with a clichd and not particularly inspiring version of the typical "taxes ate my grandmother" rant, including the story of how the country was founded during a tax revolt. As you'd expect, Reid forgets that the original tax revolt wasn't against an elected government imposing taxes on the people who elected it, and that this was actually rather a large portion of the debate, in that legislators you can boot out of office at will or can satirize by drawing pictures of them being sodomized by Crank Yankers puppets if you so choose can be distinguished, without resort to technicalities, from a King ruling you from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean who will have you run through with a bayonet if you say anything critical about him, so we're not quite living in oppressive colonial times as a result of an increase in cigarette taxes, punk-ass (or, as it would have appeared in colonial times, punk-aff). The Constitution: I think I'll keep her. Anyway, Reid also gets a few slams in at public assistance and how buying out the tobacco farmers is just another weak-ass liberal idea of paying people not to do anything, and by the end of this scene, the rant-writers are just showing off. If I just admit that they excel at the composition of irrational, one-sided rants on behalf of both liberal and conservative viewpoints, do you suppose they'll stop doing it? Yeah, probably not. How would they fill the other forty-two minutes every week? Seriously, I entirely fail to understand how it benefits C.J. to go on a show like this, nor do I understand why so many apparently sane people in real political life dignify idiot combatants like this by treating them like thinkers, which they aren't, but that's neither here nor there, I suppose.

Through with the tax rant, Reid moves on to a different attack -- he wants to talk Drudge. Apparently, Drudge is reporting that the Sunday Times Magazine will be running a Hoynes profile in which Hoynes claims that Jed and Leo tried to help him find ways to ride out his sex scandal without resigning. C.J. is uncharacteristically flustered by this exchange, having absolutely no idea this was coming, and she stammers -- stammers! C.J.! -- that she isn't privy to private conversations between the president and whomever, and she does her best to put her head down and charge through it. But she is, figuratively speaking, white as a sheet. Ultimately, she says she can't comment, and he hammers her some more, and then as they go to commercial, he mutters confidentially how great the segment was. C.J. looks ill. In his office, Toby -- who has been watching this on TV -- doesn't look much better. Yeah. That's why if I were a politician and I were invited on a talk show, my first question would be, "Are you going to ask me questions and then talk over me when I attempt to answer them?" If the answer came back as something like, "Well, you'll have to wait and see," then I wouldn't go.

Credits. Damn, I feel more patriotic-er already.

We return to the sight of Toby, milling around the offices waiting for C.J. to return. "Carol said any minute now," he is assured. Marina Lewinsky is prepping him for a meeting with a bunch of AFL-CIO reps, with whom he cannot meet in the Roosevelt Room, because it's set to be chock full of Josh and the base-closing commission all day. Toby, therefore, will be very nearly stuck in the closet, essentially, with a bunch of folding chairs. Yeah. Toby and organized labor, closeted for all eternity? That's funny. Toby meets up with Big Labor Guy (who actually looks like a plausible Big Labor Guy) and welcomes the entire group to the White House. He tells them that he's still working on the meeting location, and shuffles off. Marina makes nice with the steel workers. Or the grocery workers, or the textile workers, or whomever has come along on this particular trip. It's all very nonspecific.

What Toby is actually doing is chasing C.J., who is coming into the office in a very sour mood. He tries to console her about being blindsided with the Hoynes business, but she is inconsolable, both because she didn't know what was going on and because...well, she got outmaneuvered by a piece of crap not qualified to carry her briefcase, merit-wise, and that always hurts. She tells Carol she will need an advance copy of the magazine, and Carol says she's done all she can and still can't get one until Thursday. C.J. asks who Drudge is citing as the writer of the piece, and Toby gives up that it's a fellow by the name of Greg Brock, who has just returned from Paris and therefore "doesn't owe [C.J.] a thing," as she laments. She sends Carol off to get Brock on the phone. In other news, Ben (as usual) is holding on another line, but C.J. says she can't deal with him at the moment. Ben must have a phone surgically attached to his ear, I think, and must do nothing all day but wait to talk to C.J. I think they've just about played out the Ben-on-hold thing, don't you? C.J. expresses to Toby her frustration that Drudge's leak of a very small piece of a much larger article has forced her back on her heels. Carol tells her that Brock's voicemail is picking up, and C.J. grabs the phone to leave the message herself. She starts out trying for a casual, just-calling-to-chat tone, but she quickly gives up and says, "You know exactly why I'm calling. Get back to me fast, will you?' She hangs up. "Are you sure you want to handle this?" Toby says. "Yeah," she says. I have to say, that went right over my head the first time I heard it. He says a simple "okay" and leaves.

Josh and Leo stroll as Josh complains about having to sit with the base-closing commission, which is apparently the most soporific assignment since Paper Clip Monitor. Josh tries to argue that maybe he can't legally attend the boring meeting because the commission is supposed to be independent. Ooh, good one. I can't do the crap work, we'll all go to jail! I'm totally trying that. ["Heh. If you'd tried that a couple of weeks ago, you might not be recapping this very episode right now." -- Wing Chun] Unfortunately, Leo explains that Josh will just be there to lobby the commission like anybody else -- in his case, to make sure they don't recommend anything "politically suicidal" to the president. Josh whines that all base closings are "politically suicidal," and Leo counters that that's why the commission is independent, and gosh, that conversation was pleasingly circular. Round like a bagel, I tell you. Margaret calls Leo away for a meeting, and Leo tells Josh to suck it up and do the meeting and quit his whining. Oh, Leo. What are the odds? Just then, Toby shows up at Leo's door to whine about the lack of a room for his labor meeting. Leo says that he ain't getting the Roosevelt Room, because the base-closing guys are important military types and the White House actually wants something from them, so it will be providing them with the room they'd like, as well as "massage tables [and] ESPN" if that suits their fancy. Boy, there's a Dateline expos waiting to happen. Toby tries to argue that the labor guys are threatening to protest as soon as tomorrow, but Leo is unmoved. He suggests another room, but Will (who has just entered) nixes that room because the VP has it. "For what?" Toby asks. "He's the vice-president, Toby. I don't have to justify his using a room," Will snots a little overeagerly. Dude. Cool your defensive jets. They're trying to juggle rooms -- it makes sense that you'd all explain what you're using your various rooms for in order to decide what's best. Toby ignores Will's deflection of the question and asks again what's going on, and now Will explains that the VP is meeting with "a bunch of environmental groups." Toby observes that it all looks quite a bit like the VP is running, and Will makes a somewhat irrelevant and clumsy segue by saying that Hoynes appears to be running as well. Will uses this conversation to proclaim that the VP intends to be shoehorned into any effort to counter Hoynes in his attacks on the White House, because they're relevant to the presidential campaign. "Yeah, we'll be sure to call you," Leo says, as only Leo can. Then he's gone. Heh.

Toby approaches the labor meeting, and inside, we hear chatting in the crummy room about coffee and whatnot. Ed and Larry offer Toby some facts on his way in, and he counters that "facts won't help." Inside, he finds that the guys are in relatively good spirits, having been soothed by the savage breasts of Marina Lewinsky. They assure him that they've already forgiven the cruddy accommodations; all they're looking for now is some simple respect. You know, every time I check into a Super 8, I tell them exactly the same thing. Simple respect, people! And towels.

Cut to Josh, pushing off the base-closing commission on Donna and Swimtern. At the moment, he's loading up Swimtern with a giant stack of documents and other bureaucratic folderol. Josh explains that not only is base-closing talk incredibly boring ("as mind-numbing thing as a Radiohead concert," like, look at Josh, he's so now!), it's also "the most politically disastrous thing you could ever get involved with." So that's encouraging. Swimtern naively argues that they shouldn't be closing bases when we're trying to fight terrorism, and Josh counters that perhaps they don't need the deep snow training base, considering that your major terrorist networks aren't operating out of, say, International Falls. "Desert warfare isn't going out of style anytime soon," he says ruefully. "So it's efficiency," Swimtern says. "Since when is efficiency bad politics?" Sigh. You could literally not spend one week observing an actual legislative setting and come out stupid enough to ask that question. You couldn't; I'm not joking. You can barely watch this show and be stupid enough to ask that question: "Gee, how would closing military bases be politically dangerous?" I realize Swimtern isn't supposed to be very bright, but he is supposed to have been around the White House for a period of months. It's absurd -- it's insulting -- to have him ask that question, which suggests that he is utterly ignorant of the following truth: Elected Representatives Advocate For Their Districts. If he didn't know that before he got to the job, he would have learned it before lunch on the first day. It's just a silly thing to have anyone say.

Anyway, Donna patiently explains that bases mean jobs. And people in Congress don't willingly go along with the elimination of thousands of jobs in their districts. Ohhhhh, I get it! All politics is, like, local. Wait a minute while I take that down. Just then, Josh is stopped in the hall and diverted, so he sends Donna and Swimtern in to prepare for the meeting. Will -- who is the one who has just waylaid Josh (chicka...never mind) -- asks him what Hoynes is up to, Josh having the Hoynes background and all. Josh claims he doesn't know. As Josh and Will speculate about Hoynes's intentions, Josh sees over Will's shoulder that Swimtern is in the Roosevelt Room being all inappropriately chummy with the base-closing commission. Josh makes his apologies to Will and scoots into the meeting, as Will deadpans that the VP would like Josh not to close any bases in states with more than one electoral vote. Heh. Josh agrees. Josh enters the meeting and greets the group, and then he leans over and whispers to Donna, "Get him out of that chair." You see, Swimtern has taken up residence at the table with the base-closing commission, which...no. Just...wow, no. Breach of etiquette, and again? Just not really likely that an intern wouldn't already know that. Donna goes over and removes Swimtern from the table, taking him to sit at the kids' table against the wall. With her, you know, because she still sits at the kids' table, too. Josh, meanwhile, says that he's just looking for a preliminary idea of what the panel plans to recommend. So he can, you know, completely freak out or whatever. The head base-closer (who was the guy on Lois & Clark who answered scientific questions about Kryptonite, among other things) tells him that the first base on the list is indeed Fort Drum in upstate New York, where they do -- you guessed it -- deep snow combat training. Hey, it's key that the troops learn to deal with inclement winter weather. You know, in case we ever invade Antarctica. Fuckin' penguins. Still, the commission thinks that maybe this isn't a priority, and that the base could probably use some closing. Josh turns around to Swimtern, all, "See?"

At Toby's union meeting, Big Labor Guy is telling him that "this country is China's biggest customer." He continues prattling on about China while Marina Lewinsky comes over to whisper in Toby's ear that Margaret has reported that Leo needs to see him. Toby whispers back that she should report that he can't come right now. She stands up -- removing her boobs from his ear -- as Big Labor Guy tells Toby that China will keep flooding our poor shores with "cheap stuff made by cheap labor." Why does China buy nothing from us? "I wouldn't call 747s nothing," Toby offers. Marina Lewinsky returns, and she's back in Toby's ear. "I told Margaret to tell Leo that you're stuck in here, and she said he said no, you're not." Ah, the naked exercise of power. Defeated, Toby stands up and excuses himself, claiming that the president needs him. Big Labor Guy wonders if Toby thinks BLG just fell off the turnip truck, with the "needed by the president" routine. Toby owns up that he has to go see Leo. Everybody's got a boss, you know. He promises to be back "soon."

In Leo's office, C.J. is asking whether Leo in fact discussed with Hoynes ways that the latter might "hang in there" following the revelation of his affair. Leo says no, but confirms that they did tell Hoynes they didn't think he needed to resign. Did Leo promise to help him get through it? "I guess," Leo says. C.J. tells him that "guessing's not good enough." Pressed further, Leo says that, indeed, he promised to help Hoynes to get through the scandal. C.J. asks if Jed did the same, and now Leo is back to swearing that he doesn't "remember exactly." She asks if he took notes in the meeting; he says it wasn't a real meeting. Leo is really being a big help. As this conversation continues, Toby comes in behind C.J. She wants to know if Leo and Jed talked strategy with Hoynes for scandal management. Leo assures her that they never got to that, because Hoynes had already decided to resign by the time they got to him. Leo takes a time-out to tell Toby to get the mayor in right away. "Which mayor?" Toby asks. "D.C.," Leo says impatiently, "the only mayor we can get in here right away." C.J. uncomfortably tells Leo that she needs to speak to POTUS about the Hoynes thing, and Leo agrees to clear some time for her. Somewhat at a loss, C.J. bolts from the room.

When she's gone, Leo tells Toby that the House and Senate have just passed a school voucher pilot program for D.C., attached to a bill giving them emergency snow removal money. There's a veto in the offing, and someone has to warn the mayor before it happens. Unexpectedly, C.J. suddenly bursts back into the room and says that when the entire press room has the Hoynes article, she's going to have her hands full with the questions. She has to know for sure what they said before she can offer any kind of response. She sputters that she can control it if they tell her everything, but not if they don't. "I should only talk to the press about this once," she says even more forcefully and nervously. "I don't want to have to go back out there a second time saying oh, yeah, Hoynes was right about this bit and that bit that you guys forgot to tell me." Leo gets it. We all get it. Deep breaths, C.J. "We've got to get out stories straight on this today," she says, and then she's gone. Toby looks after her with concern. He turns back to Leo, who asks him if C.J.'s okay. Toby says she's off-balance about having been blindsided by Reid about the Hoynes thing in the first place. "And that got to her?" Leo asks, puzzled. "Yeah, it did," says Toby. Toby picks up some stuff and leaves Leo's office. Leo scrunches up his face. Leo has one of those jobs where you scrunch up your face a lot, I think. It's hard on a guy.

Marina Lewinsky and her tight, bod-squad dress come strolling down the hall toward the Big Labor Meeting, where Toby is apparently telling the union guys that there's not a hell of a lot he can do for them. In a surprisingly astute observation for the writers of this particular show, Toby tells the guys that the steel tariffs they asked for have wound up costing more jobs in auto manufacturing than they saved in steel production. Wow...it's current, it's plausible, and it's something Toby might actually bring up to these guys. Good one! Marina strolls into the meeting and hands Toby a note. "We're already in a trade war with China," says Big Labor Guy. "That's why we gotta make bras our first line of defense." Toby looks around, waiting for the punch line. None is forthcoming. "Bras?" he asks. Smaller Labor Guy explains that "Chinese bras are killing us," and despite the fact that (a) people losing their jobs isn't funny, even if they make bras; (b) bras are a particularly lame device for desperate writers; and (c) Wal-Mart's exploitation of poorly-paid people in other countries isn't funny, the line "Chinese bras are killing us," as delivered by SLG, is...a little funny. "They're flooding Wal-Mart with cheap bras," he intones seriously. Toby makes the egregious error of treating it like a joke, saying that he prefers French bras, and he assumes those are still all right, and oh, har har har. BLG tells him it's not funny! You guys! It's not funny! Toby can't help laughing as he says he wishes the president could do something about cheap bras. SLG tells Toby that the president could "activate the textile and apparel import safeguards," a.k.a. the Bra Embargo, I suppose. BLG tells Toby that if they don't get satisfaction, his guys are planning to burn bras in front of the White House in protest tomorrow. Somehow, I find the idea of the men of the AFL-CIO embracing 1960s feminist iconography mildly implausible, but...hey, once you're doing bra jokes, you're sort of off to the races. Toby sits there puzzled for a moment, and then takes off again.

Toby approaches the Roosevelt Room, and knocks to pull Josh out. In the hall, Toby says, "I need to borrow Ed and Larry for a thing about bras." "You sure they're the guys?" asks Josh. "Chinese bras," Toby says soberly. "Oh. Well, they're the experts," Josh says. Just as Josh starts back in to fetch Ed and Larry, Toby stops him to ask whether Hoynes is "crazy enough to run." "You want the short answer? Yes," Josh tells him. Toby thinks aloud about what will be Hoynes's move if the article is a step toward redemption. "Start putting a staff together," Josh says in a moment of clarity. Toby encourages Josh to "make some calls." Josh ducks back into the base-closing meeting, and tells Ed and Larry to go meet with Toby: "Toby needs to talk to you about, uh, China. Now." They get up and scoot. Josh then goes over and pulls aside Donna, asking her to "take over" the meeting. "Just ask, 'How much will that save?' every few minutes." Good advice. "Don't you say a word," he says to Swimtern. He leaves, they sit. The Kryptonite General goes back to explaining that he wants them to consolidate some Air Force bases. "How much will that save?" Donna asks. "Using CBO's baseline or the DOD projections?" he asks. "Both," Swimtern puts in unnecessarily. Does he ever do what anyone tells him to do? Wouldn't this have come to a head before now if he were running around the White House violating literally every instruction he's given?

C.J.'s office is a veritable hubbub of activity, as Carol tells her that Russert's on the phone, as well as Time and Newsweek and everybody else the writers could think of under "major news organizations." All C.J. wants to know is whether Greg Brock has called her back. No, Carol tells her, but Ben called and has Kennedy Center tickets for the weekend. C.J. cuts Carol off and says to tell Russert that C.J. will not be doing Meet the Press week. Alone in her office, she calls Brock again, leaving another message pleading with him to call her. As she's leaving the message, Carol comes in, trying to interrupt, but C.J. waves her off and keeps going. Which is unfortunate, because it turns out that the person Carol is toting along with her is Brock. He strolls into the office, and they exchange some pleasantries. "Can I get you anything?" C.J. says. She calls out, "Carol, do we have anything?" "Uh, water," Carol says from the doorway. "Yeah, thanks," Brock says. "It's D.C. water," Carol clarifies. "I'm good," Brock corrects. Oh, municipal water humor. Because if there's one place where they definitely wouldn't have anything to offer to guests other than municipal water, it's the White House press secretary's office. Your Government: New And Improved, With Fifty Percent More Industrial Pollutants! C.J. closes the door and tells him that everything she's going to tell him is off the record. She assumes that the Drudge quotes from the piece are correct. Yes, they are. She needs an advance copy. He tells her that advance copies can be had on Thursday. She doesn't need one on Thursday when everyone else can get one; she needs one now. "Sorry," he says. "I never give subjects of an article sneak peeks." She reminds him that she's not a subject. And then she pauses. "Am I?" Dun-dun-dun!

We cut to Josh's office, where he's apparently touching base with likely Hoynes campaign staffers. Someone-or-other agrees to give him a call if anything materializes, and Josh hangs up. Donna strolls in, and Josh immediately asks her if she left Swimtern alone with the Kryptonite General. She assures him that Swimtern is fine: "He actually seems to have a feel for that stuff." Josh says he's "faking it," and makes a disparaging remark about prep school. Donna refers to how Toby is stuck in "some Chinese bra thing," and Josh comes up with, "Do the Chinese even need bras? Because...you know." Wow, I'm starting to understand why Deborah quit this show. How many times can you give the "You know, racially offensive remarks really aren't okay, even coming from the pens of regular contributors to the Democratic National Committee" speech? I mean, honestly, that line is just really not okay. If that line had come out of the mouth of a football commentator, there would be a damn riot, and rightly so. Sigh. Anyway, Donna comes back with an overly patient, but kind of funny "Some of us are trying to govern here, Josh." Amusing, but doesn't call him on the ass remark, of course, because nobody ever does. She says she told Toby that Josh could cover the meeting with the mayor, given that he doesn't seem eager to be in on the base closings. As she's leaving, Josh wonders, "Which mayor?" It's a nice effort to Sorkin up the dialogue with the endless repeats of the same phrase, but it's just not getting the job done.

Brock, meanwhile, is telling C.J. that he's not playing the game of telling her about the piece by telling her that specific things are or are not in it. She points out that obviously, it's already been leaked to Drudge, so it's not like she's asking for it frivolously. "Drudge has better sources than you do," Brock tells her. Ouch. He suggests that one of them is probably Hoynes's publisher. "Publisher?" a queasy-looking C.J. asks. Brock confirms that Hoynes just got a five-million-dollar advance on his book. "Wish I could help you out, C.J.," he says, getting up to head for the door. But as he does, a zip disk falls out of the papers he's carrying and lands conspicuously in the middle of the floor. "That's just my policy," he says. "No sneak peeks." The camera lingers on the disk, in case you don't get it. At the door, he pauses and meaningfully asks C.J. whether it's possible that he could get an exclusive on the president's reaction to the Hoynes article. C.J. stares down at the disk, because maybe you still don't get it, and she says, "Yeah, there's a chance." She says no promises, though. He does extract a commitment that at least nobody else will get an exclusive, and that if Jed issues a written statement, Brock will be the first to get it. He says he enjoyed meeting her, and finally takes his leave, at which point C.J. hungrily grabs the disk and runs over to her laptop. It's a good thing she did that, before they had to execute a wocka-wocka super zoom toward and away from the disk, just in case you still didn't get it. Not graceful, that scene.

Later, we see C.J. in her office, reviewing the article and then pulling the disk from her external drive. She stares at it thoughtfully as tense music thumpety-thumps in the background. She leaves the office and hands the disk to Carol, asking her to print copies for Toby, Josh, Leo, and Jed. Carol asks how bad it is, and C.J. turns away from her without answering, which is C.J. for "Oy."

Toby is meeting with the labor guys as well as Ed and Larry, who are telling him that indeed, the provision the guys cited could be used "to protect American bras." The guys need to file a petition first, though. They're happy to do it, but the catch is that the U.S. trade representative is currently in Beijing trying to negotiate a deal to export American cars, and the emergence of the Bra Embargo would probably throw a wrench into that deal. Carol comes in and delivers the Hoynes article to Toby. BLG says to SLG that they'll need to talk to the auto workers before they do anything, and SLG is more than a little skeptical about how well that's going to go. Toby leaves the guys alone to deal with their internal politics while he pores over the article.

Josh walks the D.C. mayor down the hallway past the Roosevelt Room, and on his way by, he ducks into the base-closing meeting. Swimtern is in the middle of arguing in favor of the closing of a particular base with water too shallow for most of the Navy ships. Josh stops the conversation to ask whose district the base is in, and they confirm what Josh seems to know -- that it's in the district of Chris Finn, the chair of the Appropriations Subcommittee on Armed Services. Duh. Josh gives a brief explanation of why that's not going to fly, and then, having put out this little fire (or so he thinks), he takes off again to deal with the mayor. "Don't let Ryan slow you down," he tells the military guys as he goes.

In the hall, Josh meets up with the mayor again, and they chitchat a little bit about the awe of visiting the White House and such. Just then, Carol comes by and delivers Josh's copy of the Hoynes article. As he draws it out of the envelope, he distractedly tells the mayor that the president wants to issue a joint statement with the mayor opposing the voucher rider on the snow-removal appropriation. The mayor's like, "Uh, not." He wants the money. Josh dismissively assures him that he'll get the money eventually; they just have to go through a veto before Congress will deliver the bill without the voucher provision. "I want the voucher money, too," the mayor says, slowly becoming aware that it would never occur to Josh that someone other than a member of the Bartlet White House staff might feel qualified to make a policy judgment. Josh, still barely paying attention because he's so engrossed in the Hoynes article, gives him a "huh?," and the mayor clarifies that he'd like POTUS to sign the entire bill. Josh robotically replies that Jed has vetoed every voucher bill so far. The mayor says that it's a pilot program only -- an experiment. Finally, Josh looks at the mayor. "We're against vouchers, period," he says with a smug, weary little smile that would make punching him in the mouth very tempting. Josh goes on: "And, by 'we,' I mean 'the entire Democratic party.' You're still a Democrat, right?" Of course, this would make Josh the last person in the entire country to notice that Democrats are not remotely united on the issue of school vouchers. It would also make Josh the last person in the entire country to realize that he does not speak for "the entire Democratic party." It would also make Josh a total fuckwit for failing to appreciate the fact that the mayor of Washington, D.C. is an elected official, and Josh is an employee, which means that the mayor is a maker of policy and Josh is an executor of policy. Josh is utterly out of line lecturing to him about what he must and must not be in favor of. I mean, is it just local/federal to Josh? Would the lowest-ranking guy in the federal Department of Paper-Shuffling get to tell the governor of a state how to behave? The mind boggles at the arrogance. Whether you think the show is overly liberal or not, I will say this: it is, and always has been, incredibly enamored of the overwhelming importance of the federal government as compared to anyone else, despite the fact that the vast majority of government policy decisions that affect citizens on a day-to-day basis are not made at the federal level.

To his credit, the mayor points out to Josh that the bill got significant Democratic support in both the Senate and the House, so it's not as if it's a united front except for him. Yeah, Josh. The mayor also points out that it's not his fault that Congress is in charge of the D.C. budget to begin with. "Then help us fight them on this," Josh says, expecting that the mayor will -- like everyone else -- be honored just to be a cog in his giant authoritarian wheel. "Why don't you help me get some kids a better education?" says the mayor. Josh looks shocked. Who is this lowly local underling who dares to disagree? Oh, yeah. The mayor of the city they are in right now. Shut up, Josh.

In the base-closing commission meeting, Swimtern is still advocating the closing of Finn's base. The base-closing guys point out that not only would this result in Finn's preventing the closing of that base, it would result in Finn's attacking the entire commission process. Unproductive, to say the least. When the base-closing guy moves on to the candidate, Swimtern gets up and excuses himself. He goes out and commandeers a phone, and he makes a quick call. "Hi, could you get me Congressman Christopher Finn, please? Ryan Pierce, I'm with the, uh, base-closing commission." Fired. He's fired. If he's not fired, there is not only no realism to the show, but also no responsibility in the fictional administration. Fired, fired! Collect your belongings, Swimtern!

Behind Swimtern but unaware of him, Josh strolls past, reading the Hoynes article with a highly unlikely shaft of light falling on him for emphasis. He makes his way into Toby's office, where Toby is reading it, too. He flops down in a chair. "Can you believe this guy?" Toby finally says. "Yeah, I can," Josh says. "This is the Hoynes I know -- self-centered, self-important...."

Elsewhere, C.J. asks Charlie if Leo and Jed are ready for her, and he says he thinks so. She starts toward the Office of O. Charlie stops her: "C.J., don't go on TV with Taylor Reid again unless you're going to tell him what an idiotic, shallow, uninformed, [something] punk he is." I'm sure if it had actually been possible to understand that entire line, I would have agreed with it. Won't someone stop the mumbling? "I think he knows that," C.J. says, and heads into the office, where Jed and Leo are rather miserably engrossed in their reading. Leo is unhappily scribbling as he mutters that he certainly never said Hoynes could "beat the rap." Jed, in turn, declares that he didn't say any of what's attributed to him.

Outside, Toby and Josh are heading into the same meeting, and as they go by Charlie, they tell him that he needs to get the mayor on the president's schedule today. "Which mayor?" Charlie asks. "D.C.," Toby says. "It's about time," Charlie says quietly. Yeah. Time for the end of that joke, which is overplayed like "Bootylicious" by now.

Toby and Josh join the wake in the Office of O. Leo is telling C.J. that he just doesn't remember precisely what he said, and Jed seems to recall that Leo said they could "weather" the situation. C.J. doesn't understand how that's all that different from "beat the rap." Certainly it is in connotation, but in basic meaning? Yeah, she's right. And she stresses that while it may have a different feel, it's not different enough for her to fight the accusation as false. Again, true. She asks Leo whether he told Hoynes he shouldn't have used White House phones. Oh, no, Leo assures her. All he did was ask Hoynes if he was aware the White House keeps phone records. Poor C.J. is like, "Oh, yeah, that's much better." Did they tell Hoynes he could call it a "right-wing conspiracy"? No. Did Leo tell him he could deny the entire thing? Uh...Leo says he asked Hoynes if he was in a position to deny it. Again, toooootally different. There is a bit more of this, and C.J. asks Leo if he called the woman "a cheap whore." Leo clarifies that he called her "a cheap person" for selling her story. Mm, that distinction will take you far, there, Leo. Did Jed say they needed to start attacking the woman immediately? Well, no, he said they needed to start immediately...uh, doing something. C.J. gets them to commit to her that they didn't make attacks -- or threaten attacks -- on the woman, and they promise her they didn't. Knowing that this is about as well as she's going to do, she folds up her stuff and starts to leave. Jed wonders aloud whether Hoynes is getting ready to run. Josh says that it doesn't appear that Hoynes is making moves to staff a campaign yet, and C.J. cuts to the chase by telling them that Hoynes is writing a book. Big advance. Not good news. "His own version of every conversation we've ever had with him," Jed says, more sadly than angrily.

As they all leave the Meeting of Misery and enter Leo's office, Will is waiting, and he tells the fellas that it's time to "take a shot at Hoynes." He suggests putting together a list of every screwup Hoynes ever made -- every piece of bad advice, everything unflattering. It doesn't take long for several notable errors to be brought up, and it becomes clear that this is an idea with some promise. They discuss the possibility of slowly leaking it all to the press, but C.J. says no, they should give it to her. "I'll fire a warning shot," she says. Toby says they can't do it in the briefing room, or it will just make the story seem more important. She assures him that that's not what she has in mind. Taking her word for it, Leo promises her the list in an hour. She heads out, the guys staring after her.

We return to find C.J. receiving the promised list from Carol. The first part details the legislative achievements that Hoynes "almost screwed up." Then, there's a section of bills he actually screwed up. Heh. Then, there are twelve pages of "diplomatic stuff," as Carol describes it. Toby hands C.J. even more as she maneuvers down the hallway, and then he tells her apropos of nothing that they're making "a move on bras." He offers to let her insert a joke; she declines. Gee, who knew she wouldn't think bras were hilarious? Trust me, Toby, if you had to wear one every day, you would begin to lose your sense of humor about them, too. Oh, and just so you know, we also do not appreciate pantyhose humor. Anyway, C.J., all business, just clarifies that they're scaring the Chinese on bras to improve the deal they get on cars. Yep: "Exactly. So go tough on bras, but not too tough." Coincidentally, I live exactly the same way. As C.J. leaves, Toby makes her promise that no one will ever make a list of his screwups. And...boy, I concur. We would all leave a thick file behind, it's safe to say.

The mayor and Josh are strolling as the mayor explains that the president can sign the bill and still oppose vouchers; he signs stuff he's not crazy about all the time. Josh counters that this would lead to "open revolt" within the party. Josh still isn't really giving this discussion his full attention, however, and he peeks inside the Roosevelt Room as they pass. Now, he's really upset. He excuses himself, to the mayor's obvious irritation (which Josh ignores), and interrupts the meeting, where Finn is in the middle of defending his base and all the jobs it creates. Oy. Josh immediately reassures Finn that the president fully supports him, and that there's no danger to the base. Josh pulls Swimtern out in the hall. "Fired!" I chant in my living room. "Fired, fired!" "Okay," Josh says in the hall. "That's it; you're fired." Woooo! "That's good," Swimtern says quietly, "okay, um, wave your finger in my face, look like you're gonna hit me." This scene takes forever to develop, but what emerges is that Swimtern has planned this entire thing on the theory that Finn will now believe that Josh and the administration saved his base from being closed. He has staged the confrontation with Josh to make it look like Josh is "ready to kill to save [Finn's] base," because this will get big points with Finn for Josh. "You planned this?" Josh says, dumbfounded. "Do you want me to look like I'm crying?" Swimtern asks. What's sad about that scene is that the chemistry between Josh and Swimtern is pretty funny, and Swimtern has some cuteness potential -- which we know from Bring It On anyway. But this particular resolution is nonsensical. Finn would know where the power lies, and he would certainly know it doesn't lie with Swimtern. The base-closing guys, knowing which side their bread is buttered on, would have made it abundantly clear that they had no intention of closing the base, and they would have done so immediately. Finn would know perfectly well that Josh didn't "die" to save the base, because there's absolutely no one in any position of power who ever indicated that the base was in jeopardy. It just makes no sense, and it falls apart under even the tiniest bit of logical scrutiny. It's like they had a good idea -- Swimtern pulling a scam that benefited Josh and thus put him over a barrel with regard to firing him for insubordination or keeping him for useful evilness -- but they couldn't get it done. It's a shame, because it's almost a good idea.

C.J. is doing a briefing in which she's explaining that the president is considering the Bra Embargo -- though sadly, she doesn't call it that. She really should. We see her only on TV as we linger outside the Office of O with Josh and the mayor, who are waiting to see Jed. As the mayor twiddles his figurative thumbs by Charlie's desk, Charlie smiles at him admiringly and then introduces himself, explaining that he's "a big fan." "I voted for you both times," Charlie says. "I hope you'll vote for me time," the mayor answers. "Every time," Charlie comes back. Hey, that was Charlie! Talking! More than once in the same episode! Will Charlie never shut up? Who told him he could have more than two lines?

At C.J.'s briefing, she promises that there will be no "worldwide bra war," and then makes a lame anti-France joke, which...yeah, thanks, that's a fresh one. With the bras taken care of, the press moves on to what it really cares about, which is the Hoynes stuff, and specifically the statements Hoynes attributed to Jed. The hammering begins. Did he say -- did he -- did Leo -- was there a -- can you comment -- and finally, C.J. cuts them off. She tells them that Jed and Leo thought they were being approached as friends, that the conversation is a personal one, and that they have nothing more to say about it. "They believed that conversation was private, and as far as they're concerned, it still is." In theory, I agree with her, and I think people have the right to private lives, but in this particular case, I don't think it's a very convincing response, honestly. If it had been about whether he should get a divorce, then maybe. But as to whether he'd resign? Nope.

In a meeting with Jed, the mayor says that he's not going to change his mind about the vouchers, no matter how long they argue. He points out that not only does he now support them, so does the school board president. Jed and Josh seem shocked by this, but the mayor points out that there's a long history of unbroken promises, and that they're ready to try just about anything. Jed points out that vouchers send a message that you don't support public schools. The mayor takes exception to being lectured about "giving up on public schools." "I assume I'm the only one in this room who actually went to public school." Damn straight. It's not that Jed and Josh don't have a right to their opinions about vouchers just because they went to private school, but trying to position yourself as the one person who understands the importance of public education in the presence of someone who actually received a public education and is now the mayor of D.C.? That's just bad form. Jed argues that if the Republicans want to spend more on education, it should be spent on public schools. The mayor points out that the D.C. public schools actually get a boatload of money -- more money is spent per student than anywhere in the country. Not delivering unto them a boatload of money is not really the issue. Jed continues to insist that diverting any money at all away from public schools is "the beginning of the end of public education." He smugly finger-waggles at the mayor that the Republicans are using him to "divide the party." Jed. Dude. It's already divided, aren't you paying attention? The mayor, with dismay: "I'm the only mayor in America whose budget is controlled by Congress and the president, and you guys never miss a chance to play political games with the city I'm trying to run." Still with the smug smile, Jed insists that he's not trying to tell the mayor how to run the city. "Yes, you are, Mr. President. Congress is, too, and I resent it. But this time, they want to give me money for something that might actually help some students. I'm sorry, I don't know how to refuse that." Jed, the light beginning to dawn, slowly turns to Josh. "This is a pilot program?" Josh tells him that there would be room for a couple hundred students. The mayor points out that there are a couple hundred students on waiting lists already -- if you ask kids who want to go to college what they think of vouchers, "they'll ask you where they can sign up." Jed has an idea, and asks Josh to bring Charlie in.

C.J. asks Carol whether she's caught up on phone calls, and Carol says yes -- everybody but Ben. "You want me to see if I can get him?" she asks. "No thanks," C.J. says somberly. Just then, Toby comes for a post-briefing visit. Does he think she screwed up the China thing? No, no, that was fine. He just wants to know whether she needs a ride "over there." She says no. She's fine. She'll see him later.

Charlie strolls into the Office of O, right into the middle of the conversation with Jed and the mayor. Jed asks him to tell the mayor where he went to school. "Roosevelt," he says. "A public school," Jed emphasizes. "Yes, sir," Charlie says. "Where'd you want to go to school, Charlie?" the mayor asks. "Gonzaga," Charlie says without hesitation. "A parochial school near Union Station." The mayor asks him why. Charlie: "There's never been a shooting there; they don't even have metal detectors; almost everyone goes to college." Not too tough for him to come up with reasons, you'll notice. The mayor asks if he didn't go because he couldn't afford it. "Couldn't come close to affording it," Charlie says. Jed asks whether Charlie knows what the meeting is about. He does. Jed asks what he thinks about trying a pilot program. "I wish they would've had one when I was in school," Charlie says simply. Jed asks Charlie if he had planned to tell him that, and Charlie says something that I can't understand, because again with the inscrutable mumbling. I just can't make heads or tails of that line, not one word, except "sir" at the end. "The answer that I was, sir"? I don't know. I never have problems with any other show. Am I selectively deaf? Anyway, Jed ultimately warily agrees to sign the bill, provided the mayor will back him up. They shake hands. It's the making of history, y'all -- Jed Admits He Might Not Know Absolutely Everything. I feel like there should be confetti falling from the ceiling or something.

C.J. is at Hoynes's office. She walks in and they exchange greetings. He's trying to be very friendly and great-to-see-you, but she gets right to business, saying she doesn't want to take up too much of his time. She's just here to hand him the Fuck-Up Catalogue. He reads it, and is understandably unhappy. "If you're going to continue to try to rehabilitate yourself by throwing mud and lies at the president --" "You can stop," he says. "I get it." He asks if he can keep the list, and she snaps that he can give it to his ghostwriter. Hoynes tells her that she can tell POTUS the book isn't there to make him look bad; it's just being written to put the scandal behind Hoynes himself. "I'm going to call it Full Disclosure," Hoynes says. "What do you think? Good title?" C.J. takes two steps toward him and asks, "Am I going to be in the book?" Hoynes calmly says that it would be odd if she weren't, considering that she's so visible in the administration. She levels her eyes at him and evenly says that she'd "prefer not to be" in the book. His face shifts a little. "C.J.," he says gravely, "you've got nothing to worry about. I promise." She starts out the door.