THE PEACOCK MADE ME CRY . . .

Oh, how my heart lurched watching President Bartlett strain to roll himself down the aisle of Air Force One in a wheelchair, to speak to the press in person. My thoughts progressed forward, after hearing C.J. announce "ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States" to the press corps, and seeing the screen fade to black. I could see the press people rise to their feet, then their faces slowly registering shock, dismay, disbelief at seeing the President roll in in his wheelchair. I could see their brains struggling to comprehend, even as their hands moved as quickly as possible, trained in the art of relaying news and keeping the public immediately informed. I could see the dedication and acceptance of the inevitable in C.J.'s eyes as she watched her Commander-in-Chief face the nation. I could see the resolution in the President's eyes as he spoke without a quiver in his voice, looking the members of the press corps squarely in their eyes.

Scenes from next week's episode flash across the scene: the President falls from his wheelchair, must be carried about by his Secret Service detail like a child, begins to give up.

Don't even tell me this isn't good television.

Oh ok, the part about the asteroid ... that's kind of annoying, in a "Days of Our Lives" sort of way.