Talking Points

Previously on America The Dutiful: Jed convinced a nation full of people that he would protect the American way of life to the best of his ability. And Josh helped! The staff spent the better part of five seasons repeatedly learning that it was not possible to do everything their respective ideologies might dictate, given the limitations of politics and the realities of public opinion. But then they all forgot. Who will be disillusioned tonight?

"Talking Points," says the black screen. We fade up on Josh wearing his newfangled and ill-advised flat hair into the White House, where he runs into Will "The Importance Of Being Tertiary" Bailey. Will turns to follow him, always up for a morning round of blunt exposition. Will congratulates Josh on being made a "trade negotiator," and a distracted Josh insists that it's not such a big deal; as with all negotiations as well as babysitting jobs, the key is to "let them wear themselves out." Will tells Josh that the negotiation site in Brussels is now surrounded by two hundred tractors, presumably being driven by farmers who aren't so hot on the whole global-trade thing, just because they're being driven into poverty and stuff. So selfish, those Belgian farmers. Josh isn't worried about all the tractors, "not being a bale of hay," and he blows Will off by promising to bring him a straw hat, which I guess is some kind of...farmer joke? Belgium joke? I don't know. Maybe I'm missing it; I'm not good at geography, as evidenced by my pub quiz team's recent 3-for-12 performance in the geography round. But anyway, yes, Josh, destitute farmers are amusing. You've got to love the common little agrarians and their quaint ideas about public policy.

Josh now meets up with Ed and Larry, who tell him that there's a press conference scheduled after the agreement is signed, and that they have a little placard prepared for it -- "Protecting Intellectual Property Through International Copyright Enforcement." Josh tells them they're totally missing the point -- yes, the trade agreement beefs up copyright protection, but free trade creates jobs, you see, and he doesn't want the president's yes-men to veer off course from this critical point and "outsmart [them]selves." He walks away and immediately runs into Donna, who provides a repeat of the tractor count update and informs him that Bill Parsons -- who we will learn is a union representative -- called. Donna returns to the tractor issue and asks what it is that the European farmers are upset about. "That they can't cling to a dying way of life," Josh snots, apparently forgetting that as something of a Luddite who barely cares about technology unless it hits home for him personally (he really is the character equivalent of you-know-who, in that regard), he's hardly in a position to lecture about getting with the modern era. He goes on to talk about how unreasonable the farmers are for fearing a situation in which they have to get office jobs and "wear neckties." Presumably, Josh would be perfectly happy to make an equivalent change in his own way of life by going to work, say, selling funnel cakes at the state fair. Donna tells him that she's heard India is signing on to the trade deal as well. Josh seems confounded, but Donna insists that it's true as far as she knows. He asks her to ask Ed and Larry to find out more about that, and she changes the subject slightly by mentioning that she's brought luggage, too. It seems that Donna wants to go to Brussels, and Josh insists that he's "still working on it," which means that he's doing nothing, as it generally does where advocating for Donna is concerned.

In the Office of O, Jed is just getting off the phone with the Prime Minister of North Anonymous about seeing him in Brussels. Josh walks in, still looking at notes and acting like he has forty things on his mind, most of which he has mentally filed under "Things I Really Need To Complain About Today." Jed congratulates him on doing such a good job of wrapping up the agreement. Leo tells Jed, as Josh stands looking confused, that Josh did a bang-up job, and resembled a mix of a couple of belligerent dog breeds and a door-to-door salesman. Wow, is that a...compliment? "You are a dog and a scam artist!" Anyway, Jed tells Josh to start working on getting the deal through Congress, and Josh says he's meeting with the speaker, and expects to hear that they gave too much to labor in the side agreements. Leo says that they've got things in the deal that will get Democratic votes as well as Republican ones. "Sell it right, and we'll squeak through," he says. In the background, Charlie brings Jed something to sign, and I hope you're enjoying your glimpse of Charlie, because this scene is all you're getting. Charlie is turning into the Alfred Hitchcock of the show, where you have to be on your toes so that you can tell your friends that you spotted him walking down the street with a dog on a leash in the background of one of the scenes.

C.J. comes in just then and updates Jed on his interview schedule in advance of the Brussels signing. She works on warming him up, asking how he plans to counter the argument that free trade ultimately exports jobs, and Jed basically dismisses that concern. Yeah, nobody really cares about that anyway. Josh offers Jed some talking points, but Jed says that he's an economist himself, and doesn't need any educating. Charlie cautiously points out that Jed's comments about economics can be a little bit... "Polysyllabic?" Jed asks. "Academic," C.J. offers. "I was going to go with 'incomprehensible,'" Leo grouches. Jed, as if trying to prove their point, launches into a discussion of a concept called "creative destruction," and the eyes around the room all roll in frustration, since this is exactly what they're talking about. Josh tries to convince Jed just to go with the "better and higher-paying jobs" mantra. "Anybody have any crayons so I can color in my PhD?" Jed asks in his usual insufferable fashion. Indeed, everyone who doesn't understand a lecture on economics that's conducted on a graduate level might as well be writing in crayon. Oh, ordinary people are so tiresome, aren't they, Mr. President? If only we lived in a world flooded by people with graduate degrees, things would be so much more pleasant. And all of the people cast out of work by the trade agreement could be put to work making tasseled loafers.

Leo argues that Josh is partly right -- the country is losing "old economy" jobs in manufacturing, basically, and is now going to get by on the "new economy," which Josh says is why they want to prop up copyright enforcement. See, we're done making food and clothing and all that old-fashioned crap. Now we're going to make ideas. Which is great, because that will totally solve the problem in your average town in which the closing of a manufacturing plant throws a third of the population out of work. They can all occupy and support themselves as inventors. Shut up, Josh. C.J., who stepped out for a minute, comes back in talking about the highly symbolic tractors, and Jed huffs that globalization is "unstoppable." Hey, like tractors! Well, tractors with big cannons on the sides, maybe. Jed starts throwing a blustering hissy about whether we should have banned ATMs to protect bank tellers and so forth, and Josh cringes, exiting while reinforcing the idea that Jed needs to stop acting like everyone who is reluctant to relinquish his or her career is a backward pain in the ass, and just stick to the idea that there will be better, higher-paying jobs as a result of free trade.

Josh is in a meeting with the lobbyist for JCN, played by Daniel "Frank Ryan" Hugh Kelly. He asks whether it's true that they're shipping 17,000 jobs overseas, and Lobbyist Frank calls that information "proprietary." Josh presses, asking why India would be signing this deal, given its long string of past objections. Lobbyist Frank gives up that yes, it's possible that some programmers will be moved to India. Josh tells Lobbyist Frank that this is unfair, given the stuff Josh negotiated for him in other areas, like copyright enforcement. Lobbyist Frank replies that, actually, that made it safer to move, since they'll be protected against the possibility that their poorly paid Indian programmers will run off with their treasured secrets. Josh argues that perhaps in the long run the job losses are necessary, but that they can't do it now, especially with no warning. Josh tries to claim that he's been misled, but Lobbyist Frank has zero sympathy. Josh further argues that now he's got problems even getting the deal passed, given that he's sure to have problems with the union and, as a result, with Congress. Lobbyist Frank pledges support in handling those issues. Josh argues that it won't pass with 17,000 jobs being lost, and Lobbyist Frank says it's actually more like 3.3 million jobs that will be lost in the long term. All he'll offer is to hold the announcement on this particular round of 17,000 jobs until after the deal is through. But, he continues, Josh needs to understand that American programmers make $40 an hour, and Indian programmers make $10. They go back and forth a bit about the foundations of free trade, and Josh grumps that he may have understood that blue-collar people would lose their jobs, but not well-off computer programmers! The horror! Of course, the stupid thing is that if Josh was so quick to advocate retraining for farmers in Europe so that they could turn to neckties, surely he knows that it would be easier for programmers to retrain themselves. I mean, if that's the panacea, then it should go for everyone equally. Moreover, Josh is woefully ill-informed about the economy if he doesn't realize that a lot of "blue-collar" jobs are, in fact, well-paid middle-class jobs. Go to a town that's just lost a steel mill, and ask the guys what they were making, and ask them whether they're going to make that kind of money in any other kind of job being offered to them. Believe me, the people who lose jobs in manufacturing plants can't turn around and replace their jobs by working the shoe-rental counter at a bowling alley.

Anyway. "If auto makers innovated the way we do," Lobbyist Frank says proudly, "cars would get 100,000 miles to the gallon and cost 50 cents." "They'd only be this big," Josh says miserably, holding up his thumb and forefinger. HA! Best line of the episode, by far. Not that this is saying very much. Josh begs the guy at least to spread the layoffs over a couple of years, but nothing doing. He begs for retraining, but the guy won't budge. "Is that what you told the head of your union?" Josh says as the guy is leaving. Lobbyist Frank says no, but that Josh can feel free to tell him. Lobbyist Frank is pretty confident that the union is probably in touch with the White House. Yeah, no kidding, if by "in touch" you're referring to the touch of the union's icy fingers around Josh's scrawny neck.

We move to the monitors behind C.J. and Toby, which are blaring out the farmer protests in Europe. Toby is telling C.J. something meaningless about playing footsie with Reuters on the plane, but she's busy sniffing out the fact that there's something rotten about the media ownership standard of 39.37%. Noooooo, you think so? You think that when a bizarre benchmark comes out of the air with a bunch of decimal points in it, it might be there to avoid cooking some particular interested party's bacon? Good God. Welcome to your first week in any political job. Toby claims that it seems to be a good compromise, since the alternative was 45%. C.J. questions the weird number again. Toby blows off her concern. "The FCC's totally independent," he says preposterously. C.J. goes on about big business absorbing local media and so forth, but just then, Carol appears in the door to tell them that Ben is stopping by. C.J. tells Carol to tell Ben he can't come by, but that she'll call him from the plane. "You're going to Belgium; he wants to make sure you don't sample the endive," Toby says with a smarmy wink. C.J. says that she can't become "one of those women who sits around eyes a-fluttering, waiting for her man." "'Eyes a-fluttering'?" Toby asks. "You know, parasols a-twirling," she says. Duh, C.J. Everyone knows if you do you're a-fluttering and you're a-twirling at the same time, you'll poke yourself in the eye. C.J. yells to Carol that she'll call Ben from the plane. Toby gets up to leave, and C.J. asks again why no one can explain the 39.37% figure. "You want to crack that code?" Toby asks. "Follow the money." Oh, good. Because stupid C.J. never would have thought of that. Money! It's about regulated companies who have money! , they'll be telling us that there are people who give of their own personal private funds to support political candidates, who then are allowed to meet with those candidates in person. Somebody dab my forehead with cool water, would you? With this pearl of wisdom duly dispensed, C.J. asks Carol to pull last year's media ownership records from the FCC. Because maybe...just maybe...dun dun duuuuun!

Get me an aspirin, stat! Sorry, wrong crap-ass show.

When we return from commercials, C.J. is ushering several reporters, including Brock, into her office. She tells them that she's about to give them a very generous gift for Christmas, as well as Arbor Day. Quite the scoop C.J. thinks she's serving for dessert today, apparently. They want to know if it's about Brussels, but she says it's about the FCC business. C.J. crows that she has learned that the reason for the choice of 39.37% is that one of the companies already hits precisely the 39.37% mark! All of the reporters stare at her like they don't get what's so interesting about this. Frankly, I don't either, and I'm having it presented to me in a convenient scripted format with dramatic lighting and a score. C.J. reiterates, as if they all did not hear her, that the FCC has set this number so as not to punish companies already in violation of regulations. The shock! The horror! They still don't care, and Brock wants to know if he can ask about Brussels now. Hee. I love it when someone has the nerve not to know what the staff is all frizzled about. C.J. tries to get them back on the consolidation story, but they all say that if it's going to be covered, their business sections will cover it. She continues trying to make a giant federal case out of it, but nothing doing. C.J. finally leans back in her chair, looks disgusted, and snorts that their lack of interest can only be because they all have "corporate owners" they're afraid of pissing off. They deny it. She acts insulting and tries to tell them again what they should be covering. It must be a relief to them to have C.J. there to tell them what their ethical obligations are. She's like the angel you see in a movie sitting on someone's shoulder, only taller and more self-important.

Elsewhere, Josh is receiving a fresh report on the ever-increasing number of tractors at the farmer protest. Josh tells Ed and Larry that they just need to keep the tractors away from Jed. He asks how they're doing selling the bill, and Ed and Larry tell him that it's rough, because Democrats are terrified of losing jobs in this economy. Would that be the new economy, or the old economy? Or would it be the new old economy? Or maybe the old new economy?

Leo, meanwhile, is talking to Fitz about going along with the Congressional delegation heading shortly for the Middle East. Fitz isn't sure he needs to go; Leo says that POTUS wants him there. Fitz agrees at least to talk to Jed about it, and Leo promises to get him an appointment that afternoon. When Fitz has left, Leo asks about the meeting with JCN, and Josh delivers the bad news that things look grim, unless you "write computer code and live in suburban Bombay." Or "Mumbai," if you like to call cities what the people who live in them actually call them. You would think a guy might know that little fact before he entered into international negotiations on this level, but hey, I'm just the recapper. Josh doesn't watch enough quality reality TV to know as much about world cities as some of us do, I guess. Anyway, Josh confirms that, indeed, the jobs are going. Moreover, the CWA is going to be arriving anytime, and they're going to rake Josh as well. Josh starts to wonder aloud whether he disappointed Leo, and Leo assures Josh that he was sent in to close a deal, and he closed it, so all is well. Josh says that they need a strategy for handling the job loss with the Congress and the union. He's got a few ideas for things they could offer, like protectionist purchasing policies, which Leo writes off as a waste of money. When Josh goes on talking about how the purchasing preferences wouldn't be so bad, because they can actually afford to throw a little business to American workers, Leo goes into a big "your suit was made in China" thing that would work really well, assuming Josh is in tenth grade and has never thought about the implications of globalization in all his life, ever, and thus has less well-developed opinions about it than, say, Kathie Lee Gifford. Leo blows it off some more, and tells Josh that he'll just have to tell the union that "sometimes, you have to destroy to create." I'm sure the union will enjoy paying the mortgage with bouncing checks inscribed with that bit of wisdom.

Debbie strolls into the Office of O, where Jed is in the middle of a meeting, and tells him that his eleven o'clock appointment has arrived. "Quarter past twelve, will you please stop calling it my eleven o'clock?" he snots. She says of course she will, and then tells him that his 11:05 is waiting. Heh. The eleven o'clock turns out to be Too-Tall and Harper. Too-Tall introduces them, and Jed praises Harper for being fluent in Arabic, which she proceeds to show off. Too-Tall takes off, and Jed and Harper chat about her service at one of the embassies. He also chats with her about a situation he's dreading involving France, and since she can't hold back her little snippy-face about what he says about it, he asks her what she thinks. She plays like she doesn't want to tell him, but he forces her to. Finally, she offers that she thinks it's a mistake to antagonize France, and she bungles the explanation, and Jed eventually dismisses her out of frustration. I certainly hope they're going somewhere with that, because on its own, it was a stinker of a scene. And I'm feeling kind of grouchy about this boring lady and the time she's taking away from all the people on the show I would enjoy seeing more of, like...like...never mind. Welcome, Kate Harper!

Josh finds that Swimtern is at the door of his office, asking about the trade thing and the Belgian farmers. The farmers are against it, Josh explains, but Belgium in general is for it, because it benefits their economy. Swimtern wonders how something can be bad for your citizens and good for your economy. Donna shows up and tells Swimtern to tell Josh that the union guy is here. Because they're not talking, remember? Ay yi yi. That is so not entertaining anymore. Not to mention petty, twee, and stale. (Wouldn't you have your will drafted by the law firm of Petty, Twee & Stale? I totally would. I would even be their receptionist, because saying, "Right away, Mr. Twee" would make me laugh.) Anyway, Swimtern starts to translate back and forth, and it goes like it always does on sitcoms of this kind, where they don't wait for him to actually repeat things to each other, blah blah blah, this is really, really not funny in the slightest, to an absolutely painful degree. Josh and Donna yell at each other about Josh's upcoming meeting with a Congressman later this afternoon, and Josh finally tells Donna that "wherever Skippy the Translator's going, she ought to go too." Nice. Donna has what may be a funny exit line, but of course, as is so often the case, it can't be made out on the soundtrack, so I have no idea what it was. And no, don't email me. And please, please, PLEASE stop emailing me to tell me that I should turn on the captions. I understand there are captions. I should not require captions, however, and I'm not going to hand-hold a bunch of fools who don't know enough to make their show audible and comprehensible. So when it defies my ear, that's what I'm going to tell you, unless and until they get their shit together and fix this problem, which has gotten completely out of hand. I don't have any idea whether it's technical -- the sound mix or the quality or something -- or whether it's just a failure to direct the actors properly not to mutter under their respective breaths to the degree they now do. Don't care. Fix it. Every time I mention it, I get emails from people who agree with me and can't understand a share of the dialogue in every single episode either, so it's time for the show to take it seriously. If you're going to pride yourself on dialogue, people need to be able to understand it. Clean it up, folks. It's a sloppy-ass way to conduct business.

Brock runs into C.J., and he still wants to talk about Brussels. She says no, because he's not interested in her FCC story. Brock says that he thinks media monopolies aren't going to be around long anyway, what with online media and such. They bicker back and forth. She stares at him disbelievingly as he leaves. She follows him to his little press cubicle, where she starts haranguing him again about ClearChannel. It pains me to say "Shut up, C.J.," so I'll assume you know I'm thinking it. Brock tells her she just seems to be trying to distract from the job losses that really ARE a real issue. She goes back again to repeating exactly what she's been saying for half an hour, which is that the companies got their way with the board the regulates them. Impossible! This cannot be! Brock comes back that C.J. isn't helping any herself, with the way she distributes seats at press briefings to all the major media outlets and not to small hometown papers. Finally, he tells her he doesn't have time to listen to her whine anymore, because he has a deadline. He walks away from her. The Bartlet staffers hate that! Brock would pay dearly if any of the writers ever remembered what happened from show to show anymore.

At any rate, Josh asks how you explain that to people who are going to lose their jobs, and Will says something about asking them whether they go to Wal-Mart to buy "cheap cardigans or drill bits." "Drill bits?" Josh asks. "I don't wear cardigans," Will comes back. Will goes on to explain that if you were to keep out the cheap foreign drill bits, then whatever country it is will retaliate by keeping out something that we're really good at turning out on the cheap, like...well, pop music, I guess, but that's a little different. Josh -- assuming as always that he's the only person with a heart just because he's the only person who's acting like the beaten-down dreamer he likes to think he is -- asks Will whether he worries about forgetting "the human face" of the job losses from free trade, or the "blood and muscle," as he puts it. "You have to go with what grows the economy for everyone," Will comments. "There's blood and muscle in India, too." ["Which is true, of course; Indians have a right to raise their standard of living, too." -- Wing Chun] Josh says, "Yeah," but looks unconvinced. After all, how many people can there really be in India? Will talks about Hoynes's having been pretty much against free trade when Josh worked for him, but Josh says that was "mostly politics." Will asks Josh how he became a free-trader. "I came to work for one," Josh says somberly. Oh, brother. So at this point in his political career, Josh is still sad every time he has to put aside his own personal beliefs because the administration has an agenda? I'm telling you, he would have left the business or killed himself long ago if he were still this traumatized by subordinating his personal beliefs to those of his boss. Josh asks Will whether he wanted something, and Will says that the VP will be "distancing himself" from the trade deal. "You did a great job," Will assures Josh. "It's mostly politics." He leaves. Josh stares after him miserably. Oh, the humanity.

C.J., meanwhile, is in her office, screwing up her budding relationship with Ben some more. As he stands there looking confused, she tells him that she "can't do this," and when he asks what, she goes on about how she doesn't want to act like because she's going on a trip, they have to make a big deal about how much they're going to miss each other. She's a real peach, that C.J., if you think it's peachy to treat your semi-boyfriend like he's always acting out of the most fuzzyheaded motivation you can think of at the time. She tells him that she's so busy that she "can't need to see [him] every thirty-seven seconds to achieve completion as a human being." Wow. I didn't hear him suggest that, but perhaps she has better ears than I do and understands the double-secret dialogue. She asks whether they're clear, and he says yes, but he has something to say. She finally lets him talk, and he hands over her passport, saying that she left it at his house. So he didn't so much come to fawn over her departure as to give her her travel documents. She left her wallet, containing her driver's license, too. "Have a safe flight," he says with a little smile, and turns to go. "Are you...?" she starts to say as he's leaving. She starts again, telling him about a place she knows of and asking him if he's interested in having lunch. I think the word she was looking for there was "sorry," but she sure didn't find it. She usually doesn't.

Josh starts to stop to Donna's desk to talk to her, but Ed and Larry distract him by calling him over. They break the news that the India thing is killing them with the Democrats. They also go on about how the farmers in Brussels are wigging out some more, and Josh -- who, looking past them to Donna's desk, has suddenly seen the light, since his "straw hat" and "bale of hay" comments of this morning -- snaps at them that they shouldn't make fun of the farmers who are "just trying to scratch out a living." He gets up and walks over to Donna. "This no-talking thing isn't working for me," he says. "You have a three o'clock, I need to brief you, and they won't leave your office," she says with resignation in her voice. She says she "tried to move them; do you want to call Secret Service?" She swallows and mutters this line so much that it took me about six tries to get it down, by the way, so...there's the update on that problem. Josh says no, the Secret Service won't be necessary. Donna goes back to the issue of her own job, saying that all she wants is to find a way to do something meaningful. As they walk, she tries to tell him about this concern, and Josh, being the insensitive prick that he is, tells her that they should go back to not talking, so unconcerned is he about how she feels about this or anything else. I swear, if she's still hot for him after the dismissive, rude, cold, obnoxious way he regularly treats her, she's got a pathology and ought to seek professional help. At the very least, she should get a different boss who is capable of supporting her professionally without becoming bogged down in his own petty troubles and his need to remind her constantly of how unimportant she is.

Swimtern stops Josh in the hall to say that he missed a great party, but Josh says he's got "bigger problems," and is on his way to meet Congressman McKenna. "That's funny," Swimtern starts to say, but Josh says it isn't, and goes on to bitch about McKenna's pulling his "I'm an elected official and may not vote the way you want me to unless you convince me I should" thing that Josh finds so irritating in a "two-bit jerk of a junior House member." Swimtern tries to talk to Josh, who tries again to kick Swimtern out of his office. "Beat it, I've got a meeting," Josh snaps. "So do I, is the thing," says Swimtern. "It's just me and McKenna," says Josh, sorting through papers. "I'm his new legislative director," says Swimtern. Josh slowly looks up at Swimtern miserably. Here he thought he was dealing with someone it was safe to treat like crap, and he finds out that he has to be nice all of a sudden. That's one of the risks of treating everyone like crap unless they have some kind of power over you, I suppose. ["Aw, maybe Swimtern told his new boss what an asshole Josh was to him! Way to go, Josh." -- Wing Chun] Swimtern goes on to say that McKenna should have adequate "leverage" to deserve some attention, being on two budget committees and capable of making a major pain in the ass out of himself with regard to budget priorities if he so chooses. Josh, almost unable to believe he has to negotiate with Swimtern, manages to squeak, "McKenna has a problem with the Brussels round?" Swimtern sits down and says, "He just wants a seat on the plane." Josh asks about an earlier comment Swimtern made that sounded kind of anti-free-trade, and Swimtern says that Josh should certainly understand about foregoing your own opinions to work for your boss. Josh's horror is palpable.

C.J. and Ben are talking in her office and eating lunch. He's complaining that there are already too many channels anyway. Heh. She argues that media ownership restrictions were passed in the 1940s as a response to fascism in Europe. "I think I saw that on the Fascism Channel," he says. Hee. C.J. makes a really, really lame comeback that involves calling him "Channel Boy." "Channel Boy"? Yeah, that's...kind of trying to be funny, but it's not. Leo enters and introduces himself to Ben, saying, "C.J.'s just nuts about you." He walks over to C.J. and asks her why she's pushing the FCC thing so hard. She ought to be "pushing back" on the India job-loss thing. He tells her that the president is against excessive media ownership, so if she has something to say, she should just "use the briefing room to say it." She says the reporters won't pick it up because of their fear of their "robber-baron bosses." She babbles about "corporate media" and blah dee blah, and she should go immediately and try to sell that stuff at her local undergraduate campus, because they'll lap it up there. Ben chimes in that local news sucks anyway, and word to that. Leo asks whether he cares about national news, and Ben says, "I spent my entire career living in Moose Jaw. I get my news off CNN." Hee hee, Moose Jaw jokes! Score! Leo says he likes Ben, and C.J. says that's great, because Ben is about to be available. Leo leaves, and C.J. finally spills to Ben what's got her so riled up -- Mert Media (one of the big conglomerates) keeps offering her a job. ["Lord, how the hell did it get to be a big conglomerate with a stupid name like 'Mert'?" -- Wing Chun] She gripes that she's trying to "look out for the little guy," but only the big guy has a job for her. Well...okay. So stay put, C.J. It's not like you have a going-nowhere kind of job. Struck by an inspiration, C.J. steps outside and tells Carol to get facilities maintenance on the phone, and get her a couple of guys. "Like a surgeon wields a scalpel, like a barrister yields his...whatever it is he wields, I'm using my briefing room." I found that fascinating. C.J. doesn't really give a dip about the quality of coverage; C.J. is pissed because she can't make as much money as she'd like without being subjected to the guilt of working for The Man. Welcome to adulthood, C.J. Most of us face this at about twenty-five right before we figure out that everything is more expensive at Whole Foods, whether it's organic or not, so you're a bit late. Don't worry, though -- there's still time to learn.

In the speaker's office, Josh is pleading the case of the trade deal. He offers to discuss any "issues" the speaker may have. "I have no issues," the speaker announces. As it turns out, the Republicans are pleased as punch about this trade deal, because they are West Wing Republicans, and thus don't care about lost jobs or constituents or anything like that, and secretly throw parties every time the rich get an opportunity to screw the poor. Oh, to live in such a simple world. The speaker promises to deliver the votes. "My members love it!" he says enthusiastically. He also says that they knew about the India issue ahead of time -- "and so did the White House." Josh looks ill. "India can have our programming jobs! We'll give 'em up, like we gave up horses and buggies! They can't take away what's great about the American spirit!" Okay, whoever wrote that? Ought to be fucking fired. For the love of all that is good and holy, Republicans aren't going to say, "To hell with programming jobs!" That's absurd. That's one of the clumsiest pieces of bullshit I've ever heard. You think Republicans don't fear their constituents, even if they didn't, you know, want people to have good, high-paying jobs, which they generally do? Nobody in any party blows off 17,000 lost jobs as if they don't matter. This is just...this show has become such a silly caricature of itself that I hardly know what to say anymore. I can see how it has burned out braver women than I.

Josh leaves. "So that's it?" he says. "Unless I can interest you in running for Congress as a Republican!" the speaker piles on. Hilarious! That's exactly what the Republican speaker would say! I tell you, if these idiots ever win another writing Emmy, it's going to reveal that the entire process is corrupt, because OH MY GOD that scene sucked ass. It sucked as much ass as Yes, Dear. It sucked as much ass as My Mother The Car. If I had to watch this scene any more times than I already have, I think I would have to take at least seven shots of tequila before I made the attempt.

Josh waits for Leo in his office. When Leo returns, he asks about the meeting with the speaker, and Josh asks whether it's true that the White House knew the tech lobby was leaning on India -- and, presumably, using the promise of the programming jobs to do so. Leo hedges. "You sent me into that room knowing it might cost the CWA jobs," Josh accuses. Leo says that he sent Josh into the room to close the deal, not to make "economic policy." Josh gets all "I never would have done it if I'd known," and Leo points out the obvious, which is that it isn't Josh's job to judge whether they should or shouldn't make the deal. Josh complains about the promise they made to the CWA during the first campaign, and how critical it was to future union support. "We campaign in poetry; we govern in prose," says Leo. Josh rails about the broken promise to the union that their jobs would be protected. Josh insists that they need to strip the copyright protections out of the trade deal; apparently, he thinks this would cause the job transfers to fall through. Leo brings up the transition assistance, Josh counters about "burial insurance," and then Josh gets all "we're practically putting our nine-year-olds into sweatshops" about it, which is...yeah, okay, Josh. Leo gets irritated and finally tells Josh to move along, basically. Josh accuses Leo of "talking in abstractions," and Leo points out that public policy is about abstractions, and thank you, Leo, because that is exactly correct. The alternative is legislation by anecdote and heartstrings, which is apparently how Josh would have them function. Josh returns to the fact that they made a promise, and that they can't break it, and he's taking the fight to Jed, even "if [he has] to park a tractor on the south lawn to do it." Leo looks shocked at Josh's sudden outbreak of naivet. But amused, presumably, at the idea of Josh driving a tractor.

Look, it's not that I don't understand how tough it is to forego your own ideal outcomes for the master you're forced to serve when you're in politics. ["Good thing you added 'in politics' there, because I thought you were going another way to complain about 'the master you're forced to serve' just because we made you recap Married By America." -- Wing Chun] But seriously, anyone who was as persistently likely to become heartbroken over this precise issue -- dealing with getting half a loaf and feeling for the people who don't get the other half -- would never have stayed in politics this long or risen this high. People who work for the damn City Council learn this lesson. I understand you need dramatic conflict in any show, but they seem to have decided that the central conflict over the life of the show was going to be the staff's constantly learning, over and over again, that you can't have everything and you can't be perfect, because there are compromises in politics. And every time they learn it, they seem to be learning it for the first time, even though these very people have essentially played out precisely the same scenes before. At some point, they would become more jaded and cynical, and if they couldn't become jaded and cynical and gallows-humor about it, they would leave. C.J.'s being shocked that a federal regulatory commission might essentially grandfather purchases already made by the large companies it regulates? That's just silly. That happens all the time, and it's not even all that corrupt. "You can have what you've already got, but you can go no further" is a legitimate stand for an agency to take, and it certainly shouldn't shock C.J.'s conscience the way it does here. That's not even getting into the fact that neither free trade nor media consolidation is a particularly current issue, and this episode thus smacks of something that could have been written three years ago with no changes to the script. If you're going to hack away at issues as well-covered as these, you need something new to say. And believe me, "It's sad when jobs are lost to overseas markets" and "It's dangerous to have five companies own all of the country's media outlets" are not statements that qualify as "new."

Later, Josh walks down the hallway and runs into C.J. She expresses chagrin at some nasty stuff the CWA is apparently saying about Josh in the press. He sighs heavily. She says something about solving the problem by buying up TV stations, like har har. She asks him why Leo put him at the negotiations in the first place, given his close ties to the unions. Josh says that it was because he asked to go, being the type always to think he can be the one to "square every circle," and then learning that, as C.J. puts it, "a circle's a circle." Please see the thirty or forty times this very fact has already served as the theme of an episode. Or just see above. They part.

Leo, Fitz, and Jed chat about the upcoming Middle East trip, and Fitz isn't so happy about going along with the Congressmen, but Jed asks him to go. Fitz agrees, but reluctantly. And just as Fitz leaves, Josh enters. He comes to sit by the big desk, and Jed tells him that Leo filled him in on the 17,000 lost jobs. "We have to fix this thing," Josh insists. Jed reminds Josh about "creative destruction," but Josh comes back with the fact that they made a promise to the CWA. "It's the evolutionary nature of capitalism," Jed says. "This isn't economic theory," Josh says, as if theory doesn't apply to specific situations. "Where's our allegiance? To our own people, or to third-world plutocracies?" Goodness. Jed comes back with the fact that there are very poor people in those third-world plutocracies, and that we could do worse than to spread the wealth a little bit. "This is different. These programmers have middle-class jobs," Josh says. ["WHAT?! He actually said that? Out loud? On the show? And they recorded it and aired it? WOW." -- Wing Chun] God forbid we should give away any good jobs. And again, a lot of manufacturing jobs are "middle class jobs" also, Josh, so shut up, for God's sake. ["Well, and not only that, but if it's bad to lose 'middle-class' jobs, isn't it bad to give up less tie-wearing kinds of jobs too? Jesus Christ. I don't even watch this shit anymore and I'm burned out." -- Wing Chun] Josh once again brings up the promise they made to the union, and Jed says he understands that. "I don't like seeing our friends get hurt," Jed says. Josh argues that we shouldn't hurt them, then. Jed leans back and says that there's not much they can do, short of building a really big wall and just hoping that the jobs are kept close at hand. What are they supposed to do? "Pass a law that no one can be fired, even if they play videogames at their desks all day?" He pauses. "Probably get a spike in the polls for that," he mutters. Hee.

Josh points out that the CWA is the reason Bartlet was elected, which is probably a bit of a stretch, and Jed reminds him that the CWA would certainly be no better off with a Republican who would support free trade and be even worse about it. Jed tells one of his usual dry-ass historical anecdotes about a great ruler who brought everyone down to the sea and commanded that the tide roll out, just so that people would understand that he couldn't do everything. Jed points out that presidents can't really make the economy do this or that, which is totally true and not said nearly often enough. Leo walks in behind Josh, and Jed says, "It's a lie. What we really owe that union is the truth." Josh goes back to his discomfort with the notion that they've been telling people free trade creates good jobs. Jed insists that it will, but that "it's not that simple." Josh looks miserable. Leo says he'll set up a call with Parsons. Unhappily, Josh gets up and leaves, as Jed comments that "it would be nice to roll back that tide." I would just point out that I said several episodes back that one of the three stories this show has is "Jed Learns That His Task Is Grave And Often Overwhelming," and that little parable would fit perfectly in any of the many, many episodes in which that has served as the theme. I'm telling you, I'm optimistic that if the show hangs around long enough, it's going to come up with a fourth plot. I mean, there are often three in an individual episode. Only having three total does require them to do a fair amount of repeating.

C.J. is on her way into the briefing room, and she's telling Carol to start working on a statement retracting everything she's about to say. Heh. She heads into the room, telling the assembled press weasels that the pre-Brussels briefing will start in another half-hour or so. They question what's going on in the briefing room, where many of the seats have been removed. She says that from this point forward, there will be only one seat available per corporate owner. One for Viacom and so forth. Which is cute, but wouldn't actually help the situation. Brock asks C.J. as she leaves what her point is, and she says that "if America's choices are going to be restricted, so are yours, and everybody's going to know it." So let me get this straight. C.J. thinks it's appropriate to restrict press access to her briefings in order to coerce reporters into writing stories sympathetic to her position on a public policy issue? Sorry, I love C.J., but...no. Media ownership is an issue for policymakers, and I don't see C.J.'s election certificate anywhere, so her personal opinion about whether media conglomerates are good or bad is pretty much one citizen's opinion, and whatever she thinks, interfering with individual reporters' jobs in order to make them do what she wants? That's not cool.

Josh comes by Donna's desk. She tells him that the union folks are still in his office. "What are they doing?" she asks. "Waiting by the sea," Josh tells her unhappily. He hands something to Donna. "What's this?" she asks. "Your diplomatic passport," he says. She looks happy about going to Brussels, but he tells her she's not going to Brussels. She's going to the Middle East with the congressional delegation, which will be a more interesting trip and involve less pointless meandering. "What I did wrong wasn't breaking my word," he says, suddenly back on the union. "It was making a promise I couldn't keep in the first place." He walks into his office to face the music.

Speaking of walking into offices, C.J. walks into Leo's, and he comments on the lost seats in the briefing room. She says she's already retracted the new policy, and that she asked to be billed for the carpentry. Leo says he understands that she's upset about the FCC thing, and she complains some more about the "big guy" and the "little guy." Leo points out that there really aren't any "little guys" in the mainstream media; your local TV news station isn't exactly "tying antennas to a pickup truck." Leo reiterates that they can't singlehandedly change the direction of the universe, and C.J. gets all "I won't go down without a fight" and blah dee blah. As she's leaving, Leo tells her he's happy to pay for the carpentry for her little stunt. Because if there's one thing busy people love, it's stunts.

In Josh's office, one of the laid-off employees is making his case. He says that he's well-educated, he works hard, and he's lost his job before. What's he supposed to do now? Retail? Josh tells him that Josh worked once for a Senate candidate who believed that all your benefits should be portable and follow you from job to job, because everyone would work fifteen jobs in a lifetime. He says that his feeling at the time was that nobody wanted to hear that they would have to work fifteen jobs, but now, he's starting to wonder if he should have paid more attention to that suggestion. Josh tells them that the White House cannot save their jobs, although in the long run, there will be more jobs. "The world's moving faster," he says. "We can't stop it. I wish we could." He promises to do more to prepare them for what's coming. They don't look particularly happy. He gets up to leave. "Is that a promise?" the other employee asks as Josh leaves. "No," he says. "But we're going to try." He and Donna take off, and she hands him his luggage for the trip. Outside, we see Josh loading into the van with the rest of the travelers. Fade to black.

week: Lockdown! Hey, maybe that's the fourth plot.