Hello, class. I'm Potes, your substitute recapper. That's Potes. P-O-T-E-S. You in the back, stop calling me "POTUS." So, anyway, here I am filling in for the venerable LTG, who is reveling in the fine world of real estate ownership, and I kind of have to issue a disclaimer. Now, I'm not trying to make excuses, but the truth is that, while once a fan of The West Wing, I sort of haven't watched the show in a good four or five years. I think the substitute teacher comparison is kind of apt. Like, I'm sure I'm a fine and smart person in my own way, but, even though I did take a class in Earnest Political Dramas, I got my degree in Culturally Irrelevant Reality Shows Featuring Scantily Clad Ladies. I'm used to making jokes about hair weaves, all right? So I just ask that you bear with me for the two weeks and don't make me get all red-faced and mad and call the office and threaten to walk out of class, just like poor Mr. Cherry did when I was in ninth grade and everyone refused to stop calling him "Buster." Okay? Thanks.
So, previously on The West Wing: See above. I have no fucking idea! But it appears that C.J. gets no respect, Jed is a nap-requiring relative invalid, and Leo is fond of making sports analogies.
The dulcet tones of an operatic soprano lead us to the Oval Office. It is 8:00 PM. Jed stares into space. See, this is why I stopped watching this show. It's boring! On Top Model, we totally would have seen some panties by now. Jed is interrupted by a knock. It's C.J., who wonders why he isn't back at the residence. He says he's taking some time to "enjoy the art." So that's what the kids are calling it these days. Jed says that he's a bachelor tonight, since Abbey is in Baltimore with Ellie and her fruit-fly loving boyfriend. C.J. says, "I hear we like him." And I remember in seventh- or eighth-grade science when my lab partner and I had to mate fruit flies, and we named them Hannah and Marty after the adorably smitten main characters (Jamie Lee Curtis and Richard Lewis) on the show Anything But Love. And boy, did those fruit flies like to procreate! If the recaps are any indication, I guess I'd be naming my current-day fruit flies Josh and Santos.
Jed suggests to C.J. that they grab Toby, head out on the town, and "trip the light fantastic." C.J. asks if they're going to throw on sailor caps and chase after Miss Turnstiles. I'm sorry, but that whole exchange was the gayest ever. C.J. says that the First Lady will have C.J.'s head if she doesn't get Jed to bed within a half-hour. And that sentence would be the perfect jumping-off point for a jaunty musical number. I could take the cue, but that would make me lose the precious remnants of my self-respect. Jed gives a resigned "yeah." C.J. says that she hears that he has a big date the night. If I were Jed, I'd be all, "Why you so up in my business, bitch? Damn!" But Jed, too weak for a feisty comment, says that he convinced Abbey to let him out of the house for Valentine's Day, and so he's taking Air Force One to Reno and chatting up some hookers. No, actually he says that he's taking Abbey to the opera -- Verdi's Otello. C.J. notes that the plot involves a guy killing his wife, and Jed says, "It's in Italian. I'm hoping she won't notice." Heh. They say goodnights, and C.J. tells him to get some rest. I'm guessing he's really, really sick of hearing this, the poor guy.