Back to 1960, Hyannis Port. Ethel tells Joan, "And then it hits me -- she's asking questions -- on and on with the questions, and I'm sitting there answering!" She tells Joan it was a clever way to avoid talking about herself. Huh. I would've called that "being polite," but whatever. I can see her point; Jackie is somewhat of an opportunist. Ethel concludes by saying, "She's deep, that one," and Jackie enters at that moment. The room turns to her, and Jackie fakes charming chagrin. The room applauds as she and Jack take center stage. Ethel murmurs, "Jacqueline, rhymes with 'queen.'" Uh. Not really. Joan is reproving. Ethel says that she loves Jackie, don't get her wrong. As Jackie passes by, Ethel jokingly offers her a hand to kiss. Jackie makes with the hugs, and then everyone makes with the photos. There are so many blindingly square white teeth around that it looks like a Chiclets convention. Late November, 1960. Jackie's in bed, and little JFK Jr. is in a crib next to her. Joan visits. They cheek-kiss. There are lots of pastels and bouffant hair. Banal conversation ensues. Jackie says tearfully, "Well, at least I've given Jack a son." She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown -- she's exhausted, wiped out from the campaign, and she has no time to relax before the Inauguration. Joan tells her to lie down, but Jackie Is Determined. What grit. What guts. What gumption. What great gobs of Velveeta. Also, at this point, and from now on, this nameless über-ovary starts crooning wordlessly during all the portentous and "meaningful" scenes. It's like they put Whitney Houston on even more downers and told her to just hum in the key of F for a long, long time and it drives me BUGFUCK. ARGH. January 20, 1961. JFK's inauguration. Hearing this speech in the context of this mini-series makes me realize what great speechwriters JFK had. I hope to God they're getting some residuals from this thing. He utters the famous "ask not what your country can do for you" line, and the crowd just eats it up. Jackie looks dazed. Inauguration ball. We see the receiving line from Jackie's point of view. It's a blur of bright flashbulbs and grinning faces. Ugh. It does seem horrible AND DEAR GOD WHAT IS THAT ON HER HEAD? Jesus! What seemed charming on the original Jackie's head looks like a punishment from a brigade of angry, drunk hairdressers on Jill Hennessy's. It looks like someone had sex on Liberace's toupee, torqued it 45 degrees, and put it on her head. Holy crap! Clearly this woman is sick -- get her some Nembutal, stat!