gistfile1.txt

(President Bartlet is alone in the cavernous National Cathedral. He looks down at his shoes, then after a while looks up.) 

You’re a son of a bitch, You know that? She bought her first new car and You hit her with a drunk driver. What? Is that supposed to be funny? 

“You can’t conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God,” says Graham Greene. I don’t know who’s ass he was kissing there, because I think You’re just vindictive. What was Josh Lyman? A warning shot? That was my son. What did I ever do to Yours but praise His glory and praise His name? 

There’s a tropical storm that’s gaining speed. Power. They say we haven’t had a storm this bad since You took out that tender ship of mine in the North Atlantic last year. Sixty-eight crew. Do you know what a tender ship does? It fixes the other ships. It doesn’t even carry guns. It just goes around, fixes the other ships, and delivers the mail. That’s all it can do. 

(Sarcastically.) Gratias tibi ago, domine. [Transaltion: Thank You, Lord.] 


Yes, I lied. It was a sin. I’ve committed many sins. Have I displeased You, You feckless thug? Three-point-eight million new jobs, that wasn’t good? Bailed out Mexico, increased foreign trade, thirty million new acres of land for conservation. Put Mendoza on the Bench. We’re not fighting a war. I’ve raised three children. That’s not enough to buy me out of the doghouse. 


Haec credam a deo pio, a deo justo, a deo scito? Cruciatus in crucem. Tuus in terras servus, nuntias fui; officium perfeci. Cruciatus in crucem. (Dismissively.) Eas in crucem. [Translation: Am I really to believe that these are the acts of a pious God? A just God? A wise God? To Hell with You punishments. I was Your servant here on Earth. And I spread Your word and I did Your work. To Hell with Your punishments. To Hell with You.] 


(He lights a cigarette, takes a puff, then drops it to the floor and puts it out with his shoe.) You get Hoynes.