After thinking for a moment, C.J. gets up and walks through the plane, catching a bit of turbulence as she goes, and finally reaches the area where Toby's sitting. As she sits down, Toby asks, "Is it possible that we're riding into town in a soy diesel bus?" Well, it sure is, Toby. As one soy diesel producer claims, it's energy "from the Midwest instead of the Mideast." C.J. says that there was talk of it, although it got killed pretty quick. She wants to know if they've zeroed in on a message yet. As he pours himself some more coffee, Toby sighs, "How to reform the Freedom to Farm Act." C.J. says, "Ritchie's pulled into single digits in the overnights." Toby saw that. C.J. thinks it would be quite fabulous if he won. Toby indifferently agrees. C.J. changes subjects: "So, the 4-H Convention..." Toby: "I'm not going." Toby, if C.J. wants you to go to a show where dimwitted folks with bad enunciation read their utility bill inserts and pet their dogs, I can't imagine why you would not jump at the opportunity to be with her. C.J.: "I don't get it. How can you not want to see the butter cow?" Indeed. Toby: "I'm that way." Spoilsport. C.J. follows him around and presses on: "You understand it's a life-size cow made entirely of butter?" Toby: "We're not going." Notice the "we." Now, that sounded very couple-y to me, but maybe it's just the C.J./Toby 'shipper in me. C.J.'s getting more worked up: "There's also a butter Elvis and a butter Last Supper which has, I swear to God, Toby..." She waits for him; he comes through: "Butter on the table?" C.J., gleefully: "It's got butter on the table! Right there between butter James and butter Peter!" Hee. "An almost mind-blowing vortex of art and material that dares the viewer to recall Marcel Duchamp," she concludes, as Toby has made his way to another coffee pot, having gotten an insufficient portion from the previous pot. Toby genially asks, "How do they keep it from melting?" C.J.: "How, indeed?" Nancy comes by to tell Toby he has a phone call in the staff cabin. He thanks her and walks back to the cabin, followed by C.J. quietly chanting, "Butter butter butter butter butter butter." Toby picks up the phone and waits for the operator to connect him to Sam, who is calling from the White House. C.J., still lurking behind Toby, pipes up, "Duchamp was the father of Dadaism." Toby knows. C.J.: "The da-da of Dada." Toby just stares at her and says, "It's like there's nothing you can do about that joke. It's coming, and you just have to stand there." Aw, Toby, can't you crack a smile for C.J.? He's smiling on the inside. I know it. She says, "The cow, made out of butter? That's how I like my irony served, my friend." Toby gestures with the receiver, saying he has a phone call waiting that's being relayed through four satellites. C.J. takes the hint and trots off.