FLOTUS: I'm just gonna need the lists.
Witless Assistant: I have the lists.
FLOTUS: I know, that's why I'm asking you for them.
Witless Assistant: Did you want them?
Witless Assistant: I'm sorry, we're talking about the lists?
FLOTUS: And your having them and my wanting them.
Between the watching and transcribing and the formatting, there are ten minutes of my life I'd like to have back. Are they kidding me with this? I honestly don't think I could write dialogue that pointless if I gave it the old college try. Jed arrives as Witless Assistant leaves. He greets her as "Teri." She corrects him: "Bobbie, sir." Jed's indifferent. He probably overheard the conversation and reckons she'll be gone by the end of business, anyway. Abby starts complaining that he pulled her out of the Women's Caucus. Jed: "No need to thank me." Seems like there's no danger of that. Abby walks into the dressing area/washroom as he asks, "Whatever happened to Mrs. Wilberforce?" Wait! Jed's following her! We get to see a narrow shot of the dressing area/washroom! This is the most exciting thing in the episode so far. How painfully sad is that? Abby -- getting something out of the top drawer of what looks like a rosewood dresser -- says she moved to Miami and took up massage. For those who care, the walls are a light bluish-grey on top, off-white marble on the lower half with a black marble border. The floor is white tile punctuated by square black tiles inset at an angle. There's a white pedestal sink in the background. No sign of the Presidential john. The window has fabric swagged artfully on it. There's a lattice-front box below the window probably enclosing a radiator. Oil painting, vase of flowers, a valet stand. That's about all I can see.
Jed doesn't know what the hell Abby's talking about and asks, "Wasn't Mrs. Wilberforce our cat?" Abby says she was their housekeeper. Jed: "Really? All right. Eisenmenger's Syndrome." Abby's gone back out in the bedroom area now and she talks about the syndrome: "It's a cyanotic heart condition, there's something called ventricular-septal defect..." Jed tells her the Ayatollah's son has it. Abby: "Am I dreaming, or are you talking to me about foreign policy? You're not worried the sky's gonna fall down?" They both sit down. He replies, "No, but I'm concerned about spousal abuse." Going which way, I wonder. She asks what the problem is; he tells her the only doctor available won't do it. "He's Jewish?" Jed: "Persian." Abby says he doesn't have a choice. "Doctors aren't instruments of the state, and they're not allowed to choose patients on spec." Jed says he can't order him to do it. Abby says he can. Wait a second, I thought they weren't instruments of the state. Jed asks, "Through the power vested in me by you?" Abby: "Samuel Mudd set Booth's leg after he shot Lincoln. Doctors are liable in this country if they don't treat the patient right in front of them." Jed: "Just for the record, this is why we don't talk about foreign policy. Which we do, and you don't think we do it enough." She looks annoyed: "Why?" Jed: "Because Samuel Mudd was tried and convicted of treason for setting that leg." Abby: "So?" Jed: "What 'so'?" Abby: "So that's the way it goes. You set the leg." Jed: "The patient right in front of them?" Abby: "Yes." Jed: "All right. Go back to the sewing thing." God, the "diminishing women" thing just never wears out its welcome, does it? He calls her out of a meeting to get her input and then trivializes her. He gets up and leaves, as Abby says, "It's the Women's...never mind." Dump him, lady. Kick his sorry patronizing ass to the curb! Now that'd be a storyline.