The shot of the two devouring each other's face in the kitchen cuts to one of a neoclassical facade elsewhere in the city. At least, I think we're elsewhere in the city. Given that the gentleman inside is presently addressed as "Congressman," the setting is as likely to be Sacramento. The Esteemed Gentleman From Pismo Beach fumbles his way through a line in a speech he's composing. Pismo Beach fruitlessly repeats the opening phrase "we must join forces" (see what they did there?) once more before collapsing into his chair with a muttered epithet of irritation. A glowy lass clad in a virginal shift fades into view beside the congressman's desk. The picture frames on the wall behind her are dimly visible through her ghostly body, so we are to assume that the congressman is unaware of her presence. The glowy virgin leans forward as if to blow a kiss towards Pismo's bald head as he obliviously mutters away in his seat. Suddenly, Pismo's twisted grimace of frustration morphs into an expression of calm certainty, and he rises to his feet to pronounce, "Joining forces with our friends is simple. Only by working with those we have considered our enemies will we achieve our greater goals." The glowy virgin regards Pismo with warm affection as he continues, "In the coming days we must rise above our differences if we are to reach the level of our convictions." "Reach the level of our convictions"? Whatever. Also, since when did the composition of trite, insipid, meaningless, cynical political boilerplate require (presumably) divine inspiration? You know Peggy Noonan babbles crap like this in her sleep.