Okay, what is with this sudden rash of commercials in which one type of animal advises meat-eaters to consume another type of animal? First it was the Chicken Run chickens telling people to eat Whoppers. Now there's a lobster telling Red Lobster patrons to eat steak. Shouldn't there be a little meat-animal solidarity in suggesting that carnivorous humans eat salad, or something? I mean, I eat meat -- and do so without any guilt -- but it seems wrong to me that animals should sell each other out for advertising purposes.

In his office, Mr. Rosso excitedly tells Lindsay he's about to make her day. He holds up a picture of George Bush (accompanied by Ronald Reagan), and tells her that he's arranged for her to ask Bush the first question in the "informal" Q&A at the assembly. Lindsay, dismayed, whines that she doesn't want to do it. He asks why. She says, "Because! I'm a Democrat!" Mr. Rosso asks, "So?" Lindsay says that she wouldn't have voted for Reagan if she'd been old enough: "Why would I want to talk to his lackey?" Sarcastically, Mr. Rosso replies, "Gee, I don't know, uh, maybe because he's the second most powerful man on earth? Maybe because we live in a country where you can actually question our leaders without fear of being hacked to death by a machete?" (Ah, a fear with which all Canadians live, daily.) Lindsay tries to backpedal, and he says, "Hey, you know what? Forget it. I don't want you to talk to the Vice-President. There are plenty of people here who actually care about their country. I guess me and my hippie friends [the last bit spoken in a stoned voice and accompanied by flamboyant arm gestures] were all just wasting our time in Berkeley demonstrating and stopping an unjust war. Probably shouldn't have bothered." Lindsay sputters, "Okay, Mr. Rosso -- stop!" Mr. Rosso's whole demeanour changes from sarcastically affronted to deliriously thrilled as he bends at the knees and leans forward to implore her, "Come on, Lindsay, I was so excited for you to do it! You're a special person and it's your destiny -- if you like it or not -- to be interacting with world leaders." Lindsay is nearly moved, and suspiciously asks, "Do you really believe that?" Mr. Rosso warmly replies, "You bet I do." Lindsay says she'll do it. Mr. Rosso practically wets his pants with glee: "I've got the best job in the world! Twelve grand a year and I'm overpaid." Just then, Ben Stiller -- in dark suit and glasses, playing the world's littlest Secret Service agent (seriously, he's about an inch taller than Lindsay) -- appears in the doorway and asks Lindsay and Mr. Rosso to get out of the office. Mr. Rosso asks if there's a problem, and Agent Stiller says they just need to inspect and cordon off these areas until after Bush's visit. Mr. Rosso cautiously asks where he's supposed to work. Agent Stiller officiously replies, "Sorry, sir, that's not my problem." As they file out, Mr. Rosso stage-whispers to Lindsay, "Isn't this exciting?" Agent Stiller directs his partner to "sweep" the left side of Mr. Rosso's office, and then, watching Mr. Rosso's departing figure, he tells a microphone in his sleeve, "Crockpot, you need to get a visual on that bogey. He's coming at you, about six foot three, real Dr. Feelgood look."