Get me the art department. That has to be the cheesiest-looking thing I've ever seen on this show. Anyway, some doofus from NASA Public Affairs who's got the nerve to call himself a writer presents himself to Sam, claiming authorship. Sam wants to know whether the guy minds if he gives it a polish. Doofus wants to know if there's a problem. Sam: "No, it's great. You mind if I change it?" Doofus would prefer that Sam didn't, claiming that NASA Public Affairs has cleared the text and he would prefer that, if it's going to be changed, that the President change it. Buddy, if you let POTUS write his own speeches, none of us are ever going home. Sam's already scribbling, though, explaining that that's what the President pays him to do. Doofus attempts diplomacy, saying that they don't want to step on each other's toes, and that they're both writers. Sam interjects, "Yes, I suppose, if we broaden the definition to 'those who can spell.'" Hee! POTUS and C.J. arrive and greet everyone. C.J. starts telling him what's going to happen at the briefing, explaining that he will be flanked on either side by a group of experts from NASA and other high-falutin' scientific and educational institutions. She informs him that there is a monitor in front of him upon which he'll be able to read questions being asked by the kids in the audience. She adds, "I strongly urge you...I strongly urge you..." POTUS: "Yes...I know." C.J.: "I strongly urge you, Mr. President, to act as the moderator and pass the questions off to one of the experts on the panel rather than answer it [sic] yourself." POTUS grudgingly agrees, but has the look of a four-year-old who's been told he can't have milk and cookies. Speaking of POTUS's looks, Martin Sheen has touched up the grey in his hair and now there's a lot less of it. I kind of prefer him in this role with more grey in his hair (and that's coming from someone who generally has no interest in older men). Mind you, it's not like anyone on this show is interested in my tonsorial preferences. Not that I'm bitter or anything. She asks whether he'd like to see some of the questions, some of which they have in advance. The first one appears on-screen: a kid named Katie wants to know why Rob Lowe won't cut his hair. You and me both, Katie. No, actually she wants to know the age of the planet Mars. Jed says that Mars is four point six billion years old. C.J.: "What did I just say?" Jed: "I knew that one." C.J.: "Nobody likes a know-it-all!" Jed: "Yes, God forbid, that while talking to sixty thousand public school students, the President should appear smart." C.J.