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“House of Cards” recap (2.3): The Temptation of Rachel

Frank Underwood is doodling a bull. He’s pretending to take notes on the President’s trial run of his State of the Union address, but in fact Frank is much more interested in the flank-shading part of his multitasking.

The President uses Christina’s line instead of Frank’s advice and Frank switches to coloring in the bull’s penis as he looks aside to tell us that there are two types of Vice Presidents: Doormats and matadors. Which one do you think Frank intends to be?

Frank calls Industrial Tusk into the next room to talk entitlements and a threatened government freeze-Oh, don’t be silly, show. What kind of irresponsible nutjobs would want to shut down their own government?-and how to get past all the domestic stuff so they can get back to China. Frank suggests what the President just specifically said he wouldn’t stand for: Throwing the Republicans a bone and wearying elderly bones by raising the retirement age. He suggests announcing it as a bipartisan agreement right during the State of the Union.

Frank says he’ll push it through the Senate and the President will take credit for avoiding a government shutdown. Tusk points out, correctly, that it’s a huge risk, and really embarrassing if it fails. Frank claims all the embarrassment will be on him if it fails. Uh-huh. And he’s also going to get thirty whacks on the wrist from a band of angry pixies.

Tusk says it’ll take some serious softening up, and Frank makes like he’ll do the talking to the President, walking away with intention but reeeeaaal sllllooow, and then his Jedi mind trick kicks in and suddenly Tusk thinks he’d better do the talking to the President himself. And then Tusk strides off to start the process of cutting his own legs off at the knees. Frank assures us that Tusk’s world-spanning powers just peaked, and he’s on his way down. And then he takes a little bite of the meeting snacks, because what is the point of tearing another human being to pieces if you don’t take time to savor it?

Whoa, Frank isn’t wasting any time. In the very next scene, he’s talking to Senate majority leader Hector Mendoza, and immediately offering up a retirement age of 67. Mendoza says it’s going to be a tough sell. We learn that Curtis Haas will want a real win-more than bipartisanship. He’s going to want to see the Democrats suffer. Dude, they’re eating each other alive, what more do you want? Frank just tells Mendoza to get Haas to the table.

Christina Gallagher leaves her new job of helping out around the White House and leaking to Frank’s team and is immediately waylaid by Lucas, who is not doing a terrific job of looking less nuts. He’s been trying to get in touch with her by calling and e-mailing and skywriting and distance drumming and tying notes to pigeons and Christina does not want to hear it. But Lucas thinks she really should, seeing how her boyfriend and his girlfriend were murdered by the same man, who also happens to be the Vice President.

Oh, God, are these two going to bond and get together? Because that’s going to be a tricky wedding story to clink glasses to.

Christina tells Lucas to knock it off because he’s delusional, and she has a really good point except for the part where he’s right. Lucas tells her that Peter Russo would be alive if it weren’t for Frank Underwood. Christina tells Lucas to hit the bricks and stop calling her or she’ll sic the Secret Service on him.

Hey, speaking of the Secret Service, Vasquez is having a little meeting, just a staff birthday, spy report, and death threat roundup, and they report no high-level threats. Whoopsie.

Doug, however, is omniscient, and he knows about Lucas’s Deep Web forum posts that mention Frank and one or two little murders. Doug tells the FBI dude, Agent Green, to find whoever’s posting and get this conspiracy stuff under control. Green points out that whoever’s posting hasn’t actually committed a crime, and Doug suggests nudging that process along. Then Green plants a bug in Doug’s ear that he’s been stuck as the executive liaison for way too long and holds his nose for a dive into the Deep Web.

Oh, hey, it’s Rachel, stuck in another terrible job, this time as a phone survey caller for a firearm lobby. I really hope Rachel gets some payback in her next life, like she gets to be a princess or game show hostess or something. She’s getting hit on by the creep she’s just called and then realizes she’s got more Google Earth and telephone dialing power than she expected. She calls the Lynchburg Children’s Hospital just long enough to hear her mother’s voice, then hangs up as her supervisor comes over. Oh, poor Rachel’s mom.

FINALLY we get to Claire. Don’t ever make me wait nine whole minutes again, show. She’s interviewing a strapping young man, Connor, to work as a media handler for the Underwoods. He dangles the possibility of giving them just the right amount of media coverage for an “active” Vice President.

We learn that Claire is a Texan, and that she didn’t fully get rid of her accent-of course she got rid of her accent-until after Frank’s political career was underway.

(While we’re at it, can we talk about Kevin Spacey‘s accent for a minute? I know that some of my Southern friends can’t or won’t watch this show because they despise the accent he’s doing. If you go out on auditions or read casting calls at all, you can tell when someone involved with the production doesn’t know a drawl from a hole in the ground when they call for someone who can do a “Southern” accent. Whereas if you’ve actually spent time in the South or just give a rip about American dialects, you know that there are a million shades of “Southern,” and that someone from North Carolina does not sound like someone from Mississippi, but that someone from Texas might sound somewhat like someone from Tennessee because of their common origins, and that even those generalizations are way too broad because as I said: one million shades of “Southern.”

My friends who object to Spacey’s accent object because he doesn’t really seem to hit one of the known shades, that he sounds like someone who would just infuriatingly put “Southern” on a casting call.

But I submit to you the theory that the meticulous Mr. Spacey knows exactly what he is doing with that accent. That just as Claire Underwood has ground her accent away as she has honed herself into a Sophisticated Washington Lady, so Frank Underwood has deliberately altered his way of speaking too. But instead of stripping away his accent, he has hammered it into the generic, gentlemanly Southern Politician that Northerners expect to hear-something that isn’t real, but will sound right enough on the national stage to slide him by. For more on this theory, see my extended posts on the Deep Dank Web.)

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

As he finishes up with Claire, we learn (and she learns) that Connor actually went to South Carolina to research the Underwoods, which is either impressively thorough or freaking creepy. There’s such a fine line. Speaking of creepy, I’m pretty sure that if Connor has researched too much into Claire’s past, he’s going to end up in a ditch covered in quicklime, so say hello while you can.

Back at Murky Towers, Clair is playing Silent Washington Housewife while Frank holds court with some ranking Democrats. Frank pitches selling out The Olds as progress, assures his Democratic cronies that Mendoza will work with them, and then promises that his neck will be out on the chopping block just like theirs. Claire jokes that Frank hates the sight of blood, which I guess is technically true: he used carbon monoxide with Peter Russo, a train-sized blunt object with Zoe, and, oh, yes, he strangled that dog back in season one. Delicate sensibilities, truly. Everyone toasts the idea that’s going to get someone ruined.

Lucas is breaking the shit out of his laptop with his crazy typing, or maybe it’s the part where he’s inviting hackers into his life and accusing high government officials of conspiracy and murder. The screen goes crazy in a way that real computer screens don’t, and then suddenly fills with compromising ladypics and then Zoe’s face. Lucas waves off the IT guy and says everything’s cool. An unsolicited instant message opens up on Lucas’s screen that says “Relax… Breathe…Surrender…” because what everyone wants is Zen advice from highly caffeinated strangers who have been coding for 36 straight hours.

Next the instant message says “I can get you what you want, darling.” and it all happens in a big red font that no grownup would use, ever, but we’ll assume that the hacker is 12 and move forward.

Oh, good lord, how do you manage to have a meeting where EVERYONE’S face is in shadow? Frank is talking entitlements and savings and is already selling out people to age 68 and Curtis Haas, the Tea Party douche at the table, won’t accept unless it’s an immediate change instead of five years from now. Frank sends everyone off with platitudes, then stays back to confer with Mendoza to make sure Curtis can’t filibuster the bill. They agree that the passage of the amendment will constitute the passage of the bill. Frank out. Do you ever wish our actual politicians were this good at the quick and ruthless dealing?

Lucas waits alone in the Very Sad Diner, then gets a package from a messenger who has a picture of him. Kidnap note letters on a Post-It say “TuRN Me ON LovER” (Punctuate, ransom note people! Take pride in your craft!”) and Lucas dutifully turns on an iPad to find… Sort of an animated Hieronymous Bosch parrot with a deep voice modulator. I love you, House of Cards. I know I don’t tell you that enough, but I do.

The Parrot is a Mysterious Hacker who doesn’t want to say who he is. OK, maybe he’s more of a starling, but he’s a parrot in my heart. The Parrot asks Lucas if he’s law enforcement, then makes him thumbprint an agreement, probably something to do with suet and cuttlebones. The Parrot tells Lucas he’s suuuper hacking through a bunch of different countries, so don’t worry. Oh, and P.S. he needs the two-step verification codes for The Herald‘s internal servers. What could go wrong?

Lucas is supposed to memorize and destroy everything-in that order!-and he heads out.

OK, it’s seriously skeeving me out how this show is going along with the Orwellian (or, really, Frank Luntzian) practice of saying “entitlement reform” when you really mean “gutting Social Security for no real reason other than the fact that today’s conservatives hate taxes more than they hate old people starving.” I mean, yes, it’s totally what Underwood would do in this context, but Jesus, House of Cards, run a little disclaimer or something.

Frank is close to a deal. He’s talking to Tusk, who is in St. Louis, which we know because Tusk is on his roof and there’s the arch, right in the background. Poor St. Louis with everybody focusing on that arch. Not a day goes by without that city saying “My eyes are UP HERE.”

Anyway, Tusk is apparently into bird feeding and birdwatching. (Real ones, not animated.) (One assumes.) Tusk says they have a green light from the President and Frank says he’s on a handshake with getting his amendment and bill passed, but it’s not rock-solid. Curtis Haas is of course the final hurdle and Tusk worries that they’re cutting it close. Frank pushes hard to get the new retirement age into the State of the Union address. Tusk thinks it’s dangerous to put specifics in, but Frank guarantees that the House will pass the Senate version of the bill. Tusk says he’ll talk to President Walker and broods in front of his bird feeder. Please, PLEASE let carrier pigeon notes happen on this show. I don’t ask for much.

Doug oozes in and warns that Lucas knows too much and must have been working with Zoe. Doug says Frank should stay focused on juggling politicians and Doug will take care of Lucas. Lucas, I fear you have a tiny apartment, some Indian food, and awkward forced romance in your near future.

In a fancy glass-enclosed classroom with an old-school chalkboard, Janine is teaching journalism. Lucas shows up to watch in the creepiest possible manner. Way to build faith in your projects, Lucas. Lucas tries to sell Janine on how everything’s going to be cool now that they have The Parrot, and she brings up the possibility that this is just some teenager hacking from his parents’ basement for lulz.

Lucas says that The Parrot is a sophisticated, long-wanted hacker known as-whoa!-Heironymous Bosch, and your faithful recapper does a little victory dance around the living room.

Janine is not interested in Lucas’s plan to get them both murdered. Lucas tries to tell her she doesn’t belong teaching in Ithaca, but Janine has a family she wants to be near and a life to lead. She tells Lucas she’s sorry he lost Zoe and that the world sucks so bad, but she’s choosing to stay alive for the people who need her. Lucas is disappointed in Janine’s selfishness for not jumping into his obsession with him.

Curtis Haas walks into a meeting room that only has Underwood and Mendoza in it. Frank says he’s sorry for putting Curtis on the spot and making him admit that he’s the Tea Party’s bitch during that last meeting. Haas doesn’t want his constituents to think that the Democrats got another win over him. Frank and Mendoza offer-ick-a provision that the issue can’t even be revisited for ten years without a supermajority. Evil doesn’t always show up looking swanky in its murdering trenchcoat: Usually it shows up in the little details.

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

Anyway, Curtis Haas gets a ton of cuts that he wants and his win. He also wants 15 years before revisitation. And immediately gets it. And then Curtis demands that if the House fails to pass the bill after all this, Frank goes on record blaming his own party for the gridlock. Frank smiles like he just snagged the last slice of pizza and says they have a deal.

OK, that’s some impressive anti-hero plotting. It’s easy to let yourself deliciously follow some guy who’s murdering other people and won’t ever come near you, but if you’re a viewer in the U.S., Frank just sold out your retirement for the long game of his personal agenda. How’s that feel?

Rachel is on the Night Bus of Despair, drowning out the noise of her difficult life with her earbuds. A random woman behind her asks Rachel what she’s listening to and asks if she can hear a little, promising that her ears are clean. Ew. The woman loves Rachel’s sad music and empathizes over a long day. The stranger asks if Rachel ever talks to strangers, then hands Rachel a Jesus pamphlet. She also hands Rachel some I’m Into You eyes, but Rachel’s not into either right now.

Jackie Sharp is defending Frank’s bill to Bob Birch, the Speaker of the House. He’s pissed that Frank is sending something back from the Senate that bears no resemblance to what the House was working on, and that Jackie and Frank have such a strong alliance. He storms out with a pissed-guy “Ladies.” Jackie gets a call from Catalina Rodruiguez and immediately asks for some privacy. Catalina is the mother of Congressman Havemeyer’s daughter Emily. She’s known Jackie for years-and knows that Jackie has to be the one who sicced the press on her and her daughter. And now she’d like to know when she and her daughter will have privacy again. Jackie tries to deflect and get chatty, but Catalina hangs up on her. Jackie takes a moment to taste the bile she’s been spreading.

Breakfast at Murky Towers! Claire and Frank are talking about their new potential media handler and how thorough he is. This is the second time that old interview that Frank and Claire did together has come up. Hmm.

Claire would also like to know if Frank has noticed anything weird between Christina and President Walker. She says they seem intimate. Frank is on it immediately.

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

Doug bursts in with the news that Haas has cold feet and the Republicans are backing out of the deal. Frank rushes out as Doug dematerializes back to the fifteen other locations he needs to be in all at once.

Lucas-Hey! In clean clothes!-walks into some sort of tech room at The Herald to ask more about cyberwarfare, like, oh, let’s see, just at random, how someone could get through a firewall. The double-verification text pops up on the tech dude’s phone, which Lucas yoinks. Lucas makes an excuse and immediately runs to get Bosch the code. Bosch is into The Herald‘s system now, and gives Lucas a meeting location. Lucas sneaks the phone back in and now he has to listen to a long explanation of firewalls, because punishment for theft comes quickly.

Frank is getting scolded by the President about Curtis Haas being recalcitrant and now the State of the Union address needs to be rewritten. Frank says he can turn this around. Tusk has already whined that Frank bullied him into supporting the compromise and he, Tusk, never wanted it. Frank takes the opportunity to stick a kebab skewer just between Tusk’s third and fourth ribs, but he’s not down yet. Frank soothes that this won’t be a problem, but the President accuses Frank of biting off more than he can chew with Congress. Fighting words, sir. President Walker warns Frank not to humiliate the administration and dismisses him.

You’re damn right it’s time for an aside. Frank ticks off Tusk and Lucas as his major dangers, then says that the higher you get up the mountain, the more dangerous the climbing is going to be.

Doug is at Rachel’s place to bother her again. She says no one has been looking for her, and Doug says he’s here to make sure it stays that way. Uh-huh. Here to make sure by staying near her a whole bunch. Oh, and he doesn’t want her to go out or speak to people when she doesn’t have to. Rachel burns her hand on her sad microwave dinner and Doug gets her some ice. (Hey. Rachel’s freezer lights up. Does your freezer light up?) Rachel is not interested in Doug’s attempts to nurture her for some reason.

Doug, who cannot leave things alone, finds the Jesus pamphlet and gets all weird and tells Rachel to let him know if ANYONE contacts her. Then he storms out. And then everyone who has ever been a parent or had a parent or been in a relationship where someone is too controlling laughs and laughs, because of course what Rachel does the second Mister Harsh Rules walks out the door is pick up the Jesus pamphlet she previously had no interest in and give it a newly thorough look.

Jackie Sharp, incognito in a hoodie and jeans, walks into a tattoo parlor to continue work on a linked chain of poppies on her side. The artist warns that that’s a lot for one session, but Jackie wants it. She lies down to take the pain, clearly as a penance. I think Frank might need to worry about what those other poppies were for.

In Murky Towers, Claire wakes up alone. Frank is already up and dressed, going to intercept Mendoza. Frank says he needs to prove what the Vice President can do. Claire says, “Don’t prove it to them; prove it to me.” And then she flicks out her dragon tongue to clean a little shaving cream off Frank’s face.

Frank is in with Mendoza who says Haas has him “by the teabags.” Bleaargh. Mendoza is suddenly scared that Haas has enough support to knock him out of the Majority Leader position. You’re just thinking of that now?! Frank is all pissed that Haas would back out of a handshake and is not interested in the symbolic gestures that Mendoza is willing to offer up.

Out in the hall, Frank is using his old Whip skills like nobody’s business, calculating which Republicans he can get to turn on their own party and who he can get to abstain. Frank and his cronies break out their call list and decide to go Medieval and look for obscure rules they can use. Uh-oh.

Frank is on the phone promising funding for VA hospitals in one district while another crony walks in with the news that Moriarty is on board with another funding favor. They have the numbers they need.

Mendoza gets tipped that the Democrats are poaching votes. They need to delay to figure out what the hell. 49 hours until the recess.

Frank practically skips into the Senate to take his seat and get all Vice Presidential.

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

Time to speed up the quorum call. Dang, this makes legislating look exciting. Frank presses for a faster roll call while the Republicans all remember sudden lunch dates and hair appointments and hightail it out of there.

Oh, no, the quorum is not there. At a nod from Frank, Minority leader Erickson directs the Sergeant at Arms to issue warrants for the arrest of all absent Senators who are not sick or excused.

Claire watches the news reports and asks her new (maybe) publicist Connor why he’s pushing for a joint interview. He hands her a copy of the South Carolina joint interview-that’s three times this thing has come up, so we can only guess at what horrors it will unleash-and says that the kind of intimacy they showed in it will buy the Underwoods a lot of flying under the radar. Claire tells him he isn’t hired yet, but he’s on the way.

In the halls of Congress, there is a lot of knocking on doors, some of which are blocked. Hector Mendoza marches into the Democratic cloakroom to register his pissed off-ness. Hector says he has his people flying out on planes and trains and on a boat and with a goat, but Frank points out that the Sergeant at Arms is good at his job-plus, seriously, today must be a hoot for him-and also that Frank doesn’t really need that many Republicans to turncoat. And he also points out that this would be an excellent way for Mendoza to show Curtis Haas who’s really in charge.

Frank says Mendoza can have his Senate back as soon as the deal they agreed on rematerializes. He’s to pick his six best actors.

Mendoza takes a moment to whack Haas on the back of the head for not toeing the party line, then is awesomely carried into the Senate chamber in handcuffs. Delightful. The six Republicans who are carried in all claim to be coming in under protest.

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

Haas threatens to filibuster the main bill and finds out that he’s already been spanked in the fine print of the agreement, so good luck with that. Quorum is present, role is called; Haas stands in front of Frank looking impotent.

Rachel shows up at the church meeting that the pamphlet mentioned. She’s uncomfortable at the Jesus singing that’s happening, but relaxes into it.

…But oh, my, after the meeting, here’s that girl from the bus. She’s Lisa. And there are cookies and cake inside.

You know, in case Rachel wants to come in for some sugar.

Tusk congratulates Frank on being a miracle worker, then lies that he was boosting him with the President all along. Oh, man, Tusk isn’t even going to get hit with a train. He’s getting slow-bled.

Frank knows he has the upper hand now. He calls Tusk out on being two-faced, then immediately says he’s forgiven. Claire smiles some dragon steam at Frank while Tusk feels his blood run cold. That fear is a good instinct, Mr. Tusk. Listen to it.

Lucas shows up at a very dark, very tall building. Parrot Bosch offers Lucas some wine, then aims a camera at Lucas and demands he state his name and the date and verify that he’s neither law enforcement nor an informant. Bosch tells Lucas that the FBI has been tracking his posts, which seems to be news to Lucas.

Photo by Nathaniel Bell. Image courtesy of Netflix

Bosch is being very careful and also is maybe a little bit of a drama queen. He also has a guinea pig as a pet? Fine.

Bosch tells Lucas he contacted him because of Lucas’s desperation, then goes back to watching the State of the Union address, in which the President is just passing on that same bullshit lie about entitlements, to great applause. (No this isn’t just convenient news timing-Bosch set the time for this meeting to coincide with the address.)

Tusk watches too, with a little whiskey to smooth over his fear. Claire smiles beatifically in the audience. And the Speaker of the House lets Frank now that he has the support he needs.

Frank reminds us that he’s just three feet away from the Presidency.

Everybody ready for some political mayhem and/or Rachel making out with Lisa? Me too. Let’s hope things move quickly.

See you next week.

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