Entry 027 - The West Wing 101 (Pilot)
In which we once again begin an elaborate course of escapism
In which we once again begin an elaborate course of escapism
In which I cuss out Rob Reiner again
In which we can't escape if we wanted to
In which we get our bell rung
In which the men don't trust their best friends
In which art necessarily imitates life
In which fidelity gets a hip check or two
In which plans are changed, in more ways than one
In which news is slow to come
In which we're served some cheese, with a side of pie