C.J. asks Leo whether the FBI put something on Jed's schedule. "Who's asking?" Leo wonders. "So far, just me," C.J. says. "No," Leo comes back. Sparkly dialogue, indeed.
In Josh's obligatory interview, he says that, sometimes, they don't tell C.J. things, because if she knew them, she'd be "ethically bound" to share them. "I don't want to put her in that position," he says. You know, I made pumpkin waffles this morning for breakfast. They were really good. Shall I tell you about them? No? More mockumentary? Are you sure? I'm telling you, the waffles were a LOT better.
"Martin Sheffield," allegedly a former White House press secretary, talks about how being press secretary is a hard job. All the old ones who are still alive like to get together, because it's a "club." They know what it's like to "take those bullets," and so on and so forth. "There's a loneliness in this job," he says in a forlorn fashion. Poor, poor Martin Sheffield. All he has to keep him company in his older years is his club of former press secretaries and his giant tote bag full of clichés. Unfortunately, long after all of the press secretaries have died, the clichés will probably linger on.
Next up, the "pool spray," which surprisingly has nothing to do with getting anyone wet. Rickie lets the photographers in to take pictures of Jed sitting at a conference table with a bunch of other people. Oh, C.J. has fourteen "young aides and assistants" on her staff in the press office. Are you sure you don't want to hear about the waffles?
"Andrew Weltzman," another Guy We Have Never Seen Before In Our Entire Lives Despite The Fact That He Is Apparently In Charge Of Practically Everything C.J. Does Not Do Her Personal Self, tells us that he was a journalism major at NYU, interested in politics, and he got hooked into the job through friends of the family. So wait, he had relevant education and interests, and then he got a job through a personal connection? Those crazy Washington people. Rickie then explains that he went to Howard University, and that he wrote for the student paper there and was critical of the administration for its stance (or lack thereof) on matter including "gay issues and racial issues," and he wrote to C.J. and asked to meet with her, and she gave him a job. Again, what an exciting story. And...scene!
Now, C.J. meets with the communications staff in her office. This is a thoroughly smurfy meeting, largely because everyone is just much, much too happy. Moreover, we're watching much of it through the blinds of C.J.'s office, which is very irritating. If I wanted to watch obnoxious people surreptitiously through the blinds, I mean...hello, I have neighbors. Andrew makes mention of Andy's "getting chummy with the Palestinians," and then Rickie says there's a schedule change. "Oooooohhhhh!" the entire staff yells in unison in mock horror, just like they would...well, nowhere, actually. Carol actually looks at her watch in an exaggerated, ha-ha-ha fashion, so warily good-humored is she about how quickly the schedule sometimes has to be changed here in C.J.'s office in the Catskills. Try the veal. C.J., underscoring Carol's joke in the "stomping it until it's thoroughly broken" tradition of the show, interviews that indeed, the schedule always falls apart by midmorning. Hey, just like Carol's great joke implied! I love it when I can keep up. By the way, what they're trying to tell you here is that things are hectic at the White House. Make a note. C.J. and the staff discuss the "Rangers" (Boy Scouts, basically) who are coming and have apparently gotten lost, and how if the Rangers show up, they'll do their event in the Rose Garden if it doesn't rain, blah dee blah.