Russell for President campaign office. It was not clear to me if this was in a different building, or if the campaign had just rented out a hotel conference room to use for campaigning for a few days. But then I noticed how very blue the light was, and I realized that the campaign must have rented office space from the Arcadia Sheriff's Department. The room is crowded. Phones are ringing, people are talking, and there are a lot of jokes about corn and the Iowa Corn Growers Association meeting. Christine asks Will how the ethanol speech is coming, and Will tells her, "[The] V.P. loves ethanol. Showers in it every day." Maybe that explains Bingo Bob's apparent brain damage. Someone asks whether the campaign will issue a statement on Turkey, and Will asks Donna what the White House is doing. She repeats the "saddened but committed" line, and Christine is pissed: "'Saddened'? They're going to behead her for sleeping with a co-worker." Whereas Christine's candidate would take a much more courageous position if he were elected. The horn-dog from the earlier scene asks Will if he's sure that Hoynes is "going to flip." He'll certainly flip over the chicken casserole I'm making for supper. Call me, Tim. Will is positive that Hoynes will take "the ethanol pledge. This is a guy, who if he's speaking to a group of cannibals, is gonna promise them missionaries." Couldn't he just offer them Will instead? That would be a win-win situation for everybody. Will reminds everyone that it's five days until the Iowa caucuses, and nineteen days until the New Hampshire primary. As people file out of the room, Will asks Donna and Christine if they are off on their "Beyond the Fringe World Tour." Apparently, Donna's first stop is a guy who "wants the military to occupy our schools to prevent gun violence." Will thinks that an "M-1 Abramson tank seems like a worthwhile truancy deterrent." Campaign worker #46 says, "A 120-millimeter cannon'll blow the training wheels off any tardy sixth-grader's bike." Dude, if the sixth graders still have training wheels on their bikes, that school has a much bigger problem than truancy. On the way out of the room, Will tells Donna to stop by the Corn Expo so that Bob can thank her for her fundraising efforts.
A silver sedan drives down a road in some very flat countryside. I'm assuming that means we're still in Iowa, but the subtitles have abandoned me in my hour of need, so that's just a guess. Donna's in the front seat while some young hottie drives the car. She tells him that the next person they're going to see was in prison for three years for refusing to pay federal income tax. Some of the best and sanest people I've ever known are tax-refusers, so at this point I think the guy sounds like the real deal. Christine is in the back seat, clutching her Starbucks to her chest like it's the only thing protecting her from the pitchfork-wielding villagers. ["They have Starbucks in Iowa? Well, I'll be." -- Wing Chun] She asks Trevor, the fine young driver, if he's ever been to one of these "crazy caucuses." I think caucuses are a great method to decide elections, if the population is small enough. People actually sit down together in a room and talk about the choices they have to make, and then they publicly declare their support for one candidate or another. And if their first choice is not doing well, they get a chance to switch to their second choice. Trevor tells Christine that his grandmother runs a caucus every four years at her church. Christine is the model of diplomacy, calling Iowa an "out-of-the-way, nickel-and-dime, penny-ante state," and wondering why it gets to go first. Trevor points out that Iowa always goes first, and Donna tries to defuse the tension by telling Christine, "Iowa's first because it's first." Christine is not appeased, wondering if Californians shouldn't get a chance to meet the candidate "down at the Barstow Dairy Queen." Trevor's patriotic pride is offended, and he rises to the challenge: "We're not a bunch of politically-spoiled farmhands. We take the responsibility of screening the candidates for the rest of the nation very seriously." Christine just thinks that winning Iowa means a candidate has learned to talk "about soy beans and farm implements." Trevor's clearly feeling a bit attacked, as he retreats from the conversation just as the car turns down a long driveway. The driveway is barred by a chain, from which hangs a sign that says, "Screw the dog. This property protected by Smith & Wesson." Christine thinks maybe they should have called first.