Veep

- Hello? - Okay, what's happening, Amy?

Morning, Madam President. It's 5:00 A.M.

- And Nevada is still asleep. - Hello? What?

Well, wake it the fuck up 'cause I'm wondering if we should remove

the Native American precincts from the recount list.

I'm having reservations about the reservations.

So figure that out and call me right back. I'm at Walter Reed.

I'm meeting troops and shaking God only knows what.

Okay.

These are from the president's last set of

precinct changes for the recount challenge?

Yes, and the changes before that and the changes before that.

She's changed her mind more times than a frickin' child molester at Disneyland.

You need to file this at the courthouse in exactly 17 minutes.

Yeah, and if you miss the deadline, find a

rattlesnake and shove that up your dick hole

'cause it's a lot more fun than what I'll do to you.

And drive safe.

We've got Hallowes, Bennett,

and Gabby Ramos doing press in Carson City

and Maddox is flying in tonight.

Oh, God, Maddox is probably going to study the effects

of legalized prostitution on his dick.

Catherine, out.

All right, so do we have any idea

what this O'Brien press conference is about?

- No idea. - Perfect.

We're working on our video connection with Amy as we speak.

Well, maybe we can get some six-year-old Asian kid to fix it.

- Mike, when's your baby coming? - Coming soon, ma'am.

We're gonna name her Ellen after Wendy's mom.

Actually, her stepmom. She has a difficult relation...

misunderstood your level of interest, sorry.

Hey, guys, watching the press conference?

Yeah. Amy, just listen a bit before you start talking.

- Our founding fathers... - All right, here we go.

...entrusted the American people with the right to choose...

I mean, will you look at Montez?

Seriously, I'm more Hispanic than she is.

You know? Where's she from, Santo Connecticut?

She summers in Vinyardo Del Martha.

Can Montez look less Hispanic?

Jesus, Amy, we already covered that, okay?

She's from El New Hampshire.

...James Whitman to head up our recount team.

- Jesus! They got James Whitman. - This is not optimal.

Where I'm from a vote is a vote, the law is the law,

- and the count is the count. - He makes a lot of sense.

All right, so they've got a Secretary of State and what do I have?

Harpo, Chico, and Shito.

- You know who we need? - Who? Who do we need?

Bob Bradley, my old mentor.

- The Eagle. - That'd be amazing.

Served in more administrations than any man alive.

Also an accomplished ballroom dancer.

Okay, great, done. Let's get him. Bob Bradley.

- He's our Whitman hit man. - Madam President, excuse me.

I have the meeting with the Nevada Secretary of State.

Oh, Amy, don't forget to bring Richard with you.

Wait, really? Richard? He's...

Ma'am, the DOD wants us to know that now the Chinese hackers

have breached White House employee files.

Maybe they can find out what some of these people are doing.

Ooh, tell me about it.

Oh, and you have a drop-by at a brunch

to thank campaign volunteers.

To thank them for what?

This Olympic-size swimming pool of shit

that I'm doing the backstroke in right now?

Not a good idea to cancel, ma'am.

Make Tom do it.

He loves all that fake smiley shit.

Tom has his banking task force today.

His what?

It's a veritable who's who of Wall Street.

Well, that sounds a lot sexier than my thing.

Tell Tom that I get dibs on that.

It's my presidential banking task force now.

Well, Tom is not gonna be happy about that.

Well, good. That's the way I like it. Open the door.

The president will be there shaking hands

and thanking some of the volunteers for their hard work

at some point in the near future.

I'll get back.

- No breakfast for this guy. - Who's offering?

You are looking at a guy on the master cleanse. I feel amazing.

What in the lunatic fuck is the master cleanse?

Sounds like Nazi domestic policy.

Little known fact about the Nazis...

their polling numbers within Germany, through the roof.

Unbelievable numbers. Though also tragic.

The Jewish demo couldn't have been that good.

Yep, I don't eat food anymore.

Just water, maple syrup,

lemon juice, and cayenne pepper.

Do you still take shits?

Not exactly take.

Welcome to Nevada.

Everybody settle in. Make yourselves comfortable.

Members of the Meyer-James and O'Brien-Montez campaign.

Let's talk ground rules. According to Nevada law,

if the recount sample shows a difference of 1% or more,

which in this case comes to 512 votes,

we go ahead and recount the whole state.

Now, most of the voting here is touch screen,

so we can't do more than retabulate those totals.

Except you could recount the voter-verified paper audit trails.

Sometimes there are big discrepancies.

- Sir, in that case we motion... - On the other hand,

the ninth circuit court of appeals ruled in Crowley v. Nevada

that you don't have to recount the paper audit trails in local elections.

- That's Crawley versus Nevada? - That's Crowley.

Actually, you know what? I could email you.

Splett1 is my father. It'll be sad to see him go,

but it'll be nice to get my hands on that handle, you know?

Is Meyer being a sore loser?

- Spirits are very high. - The president won the popular vote.

I didn't quite catch all your questions.

- We had a pretty big setback in there. - We have to go.

We're very late for another appointment. Thank you very much, everybody.

What is wrong with you, you Paddington Bear-looking fuck?

You just gave them a Time Life instruction manual on how to fuck us.

You guys have Michael Jordan sitting on the bench here,

but you're starting Hakeem Olajutwat.

You are not Michael Jordan.

You are a seven-foot-seven goony-looking Lithuanian

who's gonna drop dead of Marfan syndrome. Get your ass in the car.

- The Eagle's landed. - Yes, he has.

- Madam President. - Yes?

This is truly an honor to serve you.

Well, thank you very much.

Plus I would never miss the opportunity

to dry fuck Jim Whitman up the ass.

Catherine, out.

Oh, Bob, I need to introduce you to Amy Brookheimer

and her team in Nevada right here.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Bradley.

How many lawyers you got on the ground in Carson City?

I believe it's roughly...

I want you to double it by the end of the day.

Now, let's talk about the actual recount.

Well, I noticed something funny about the mail-in ballots.

All right, let's hear it, Affirmative Action Jackson.

Well, the county clerk of Nye County disqualified a huge number of mail-in ballots

because the signatures didn't match the voter rolls,

so I checked and he's an O'Brien fundraiser.

He probably chucked out a ton of Meyer votes.

Why aren't you moving on this, blondie?

Right, Amy. Come on, get it together. My God in heaven.

We will get right on it, ma'am, sir.

Bob, what do you think? Are we gonna win this thing?

I mean, really honestly, your true gut.

Well, Madam President, I've got big balls,

- but neither one of them are crystal. - Oh, darn it.

This reminds me of something that Dick Nixon used to say

to Henry Kissinger back when that tricky son of a bitch

was trying to get us out of that messy business called Vietnam.

Vietnam, right.

He would say, "Henry, you son of a bitch.

I can lead a horse to water, but I can't milk it."

Can't milk it! I don't even know what that means.

- I love it. - I've got to make a million phone calls.

- So you'll have to excuse me. - All right.

- Good-bye, everyone. - Fantastic. Good-bye. We got our guy.

- Hey, Bob. - Yeah?

You don't remember me. I was an intern way back when you were...

Of course I remember you.

Lookie here. Ben Cafferty all grown up.

We used to have a million nicknames for this guy.

We called him Fatty Dicksuckle

and B-B-Benny and the Jizz.

Buttfucker.

Buttfucker, that's me.

I can't believe you remembered my nickname.

Good to see you. Nice to see you.

Oh, good old Sue. You're still here.

- My, oh, my. - Still here?

He hasn't worked in the White House since the late '80s.

- How old is Sue? - Huh?

Well, that's clearly a vote for Meyer.

It says her name right there. It's a write-in.

It says "Fuck Selina Meyer."

If anything, that one should count for us.

Move to call this a no vote.

No, no, no. See, right there.

See that? Yeah, that's a comma.

- Where? - After fuck, that is a comma.

So it doesn't say "Fuck Selina Meyer."

It says, you know, "Fuck, Selina Meyer!"

That's a testament to this voter's earthy

but unambiguous enthusiasm for President Meyer.

Absolutely.

- Vote for Meyer. - Yes! Yeah.

- Madam President. - Yes, Mr. Economy Czar.

Welcome to your banking task force.

- Great idea of yours. - Yeah, it is, isn't it?

I'm looking forward to hearing what my next great idea is gonna be.

Oh, I'm glad that you're able to turn

my actual policy meeting into a meaningless photo op.

I'm sure the Dow is rocketing skywards as we speak.