All language subtitles for murphy_brown_s06e07_i_dont_know_you_from_madam

Hi, I'm Murphy Brown. You must be my new
secretary.

Would you mind returning this tape to
editing for me?

I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. But I've
got a very good feeling about this one.

It's Armageddon. That's what it is.

Has anyone seen this? The Tribune,
founded by Horace Greeley, one of the

bastions of serious journalism in this
country, is running a front -page expose

on Holly Adams, the Beltway Madam.

Listen to this drivel.

Nicknamed the Beltway Madam for
allegedly running the Capitol's priciest

prostitution ring, Holly Adams grew up
the middle daughter of a small -town

businessman full of determination and
grit.

This is unbelievable.

and at the front page, Clinton's health
care package gets two paragraphs and a

Doonesbury. What is happening to this
country? It's like people are upset. You

can't turn on the television or the
radio without hearing, Holly this, Holly

that. Meanwhile, there's fighting in
Bosnia, Russia's collapsing.

What could these women possibly do to
get that kind of money?

Oh.

Sex and innuendo. That's what sells
these days.

Woody Allen and Mia Farrow.

Donald Trump and Marla Maples. Pee Wee
Herman and...

I remember a time when journalism was a
profession of honor.

Morning, people.

Well,

I just had an interesting meeting with
the network brass.

All those guys.

Why are you automatically assuming it's
something bad?

Because every time you laugh like that
after a network meeting, it is something

bad. The last time they wanted us to do
cameos as victims of a stagecoach

accident on Dr. Quinn, that is a woman,
remember that?

Jane Seymour was going to amputate
Frank's leg with a Bowie knife.

This isn't like that at all. In fact,
the entire meeting was about the news.

how much of it there is these days. From
the deficit to Somalia to Holly Adams.

Oh, boy, they want us to cover Holly
Adams?

You told them we wouldn't do it, didn't
you, Miles?

Now, let's just face facts for a minute.
This kind of thing fascinates people.

So do traffic accidents, but we don't
set up our camera on I -95 and wait for

10 -car pileup.

Murphy's right.

I'm not about to do the kind of
sensationalistic trash I saw on Channel

night. What men want. The love secrets
of hollies and dollies. Or the garbage

Channel 12.

Suburban sex rings. How to tell if your
neighbor's a hooker.

Capital Sexpose on Channel 8. Will
someone please explain the news value of

reporting from inside an S &M shop?

There were devices in there they could
have front -mounted on tanks during the

Gulf War.

Well, well, well.

Considering how disgusted you all are by
all the coverage, it doesn't seem like

any of you missed a single report.

It was on while I was folding my
laundry.

It was Doris's night with the clicker.

I was, uh, looking for the Discovery
Channel.

You weren't folding or flipping or
clicking. You were watching.

And why?

Because you were curious.

Everyone's curious.

Who's hooking? Who's being hooked? Is
there a black book? Who might be in it?

People, there is a story here, and our
competition is running with it. Are we

going to be the only ones left in the
dark?

I bet.

Sure. Fine. So what if there are 37
other magazine shows waiting to drive us

the air?

20, 20, 48 hours, 60 minutes.

Date line, night line, prime time. It's
a jungle out there.

And everyone expects old Juana
Silverberg to carry us through.

Well, grab your machetes and start
whacking.

FYI is doing this story.

Now you can whack all you want, Miles,
but you're whacking alone. Tell him,

guys.

Listen, Murph, you know, I don't like
this story any more than you do, but

may be one fight we can't win. He's got
a point, Slugger. From my experience,

when the boys upstairs want hookers,
they usually get them.

to do with this story. That's all right,
Corky. You don't have to cover this.

Well, Miles, I'm up to here with my
Pentagon story. There's no way I'm going

be able to break it.

Don't worry about it.

Oh, no.

You're not looking at me, Miles.

Why aren't you looking at me?

Oh, no.

The network specifically asked for you.
Why? Why do you think? It's a cheap and

tawdry story and they need you for
credibility.

They're not the complete idiots you
think they are. No, you're right, Miles.

with a little work and practice, I'm
sure they could reach full idiot

Enough.

Let me remind you about something,
Murphy.

This is a job, not make -believe. We're
not doing the Mary Tyler Moore show

here.

There's no audience laughing at every
cute little thing you say.

This is the real world.

So when I tell you you're doing a story,
you don't just say, oh, Mr. Grint, I

don't want to. You do it.

Now, Holly Adams is being reigned in
about 45 minutes, so you better hurry if

you're going to get to the courthouse in
time.

Angie, I told you, we've got guests
coming.

It's a new season of Potterhood with big
guests.

Oh, boy, look at this place, Carl.

Everyone waiting to pounce on the first
warm body that crosses their path.

It's like a tail hook convention without
the room service.

No, this isn't the kind of assignment
you relish, but I'm not sorry we're

I miss being out in the field with you
more than I miss real butter.

We've done some great stories together.

Yeah, great ones.

Man, will lawyers drag out an
arraignment or what? Well, hey, hey,

What a surprise.

Murphy Brown, you know, I thought it was
you, but then I figured, nah, why would

the first lady of television news be
slumming around a prostitution story?

Excuse me, do I know you?

Tom Del Rubio, current edition.

You don't remember me.

That's surprising, you know, because you
did mention our show in the last issue

of Broadcast Monthly. Let me see, what
did you call us?

A festering boil on the backside of
journalism.

Oh, right. You know, I really didn't
want them to publish that, but they felt

that my original quote was too harsh.

Yet here you are festering with the rest
of us.

By my count, there must be six or seven
of you primetime big shots lurking

around our little gutter. Hey, mister,
you don't know how lucky you are to have

Murphy Brown in the gutter with you.

She's ten times the journalist you are,
and if she's ready to move into

prostitution, then you'd better just
stand back, watch her, and learn how

done. It's okay, Bob.

Listen, tell Rubio I don't owe you any
explanations, but if you want to know

I'm covering the Beltway, madam, I'll
tell you.

Because this story transcends tawdry sex
and smarmy innuendo. It's a story about

our nation's capital as a microcosm for
this country and its unraveling social

fabric. Oh, an unraveling social fabric
show.

Geez, they'll be glued to their TVs for
that one. You know, you can dress it up

any way you want. It's still sex.

And you're selling it just as much as
Holly is. The only difference is her

customers usually stay awake until it's
over.

Lying, peddling smut jockey. I'm not
about to lower myself. Holly! Holly!

Holly! Holly!

Was there government money involved?

Holly, were you protected by federal
officials?

Holly! How do you feel?

Oh, how do you feel? Piercing question.

Oh, jeez. Why didn't I just ask her who
her favorite beetle was?

Hey, Murph.

How's it going?

Oh, great, Frank, and it just keeps
getting better.

Did I tell you Holly's gone into hiding?

It's true.

Nobody knows where she is.

I'm feeling ashamed and alone, and I'm
looking for a hooker.

Now I know what it feels like to be
Jimmy Swagger.

Oh, God, I miss real news.

Talk to me, Frank. How's your story
going? Oh, it's going great.

Well, not great. Good.

Fine. It's going okay.

Really? Tell me all about it.

Well, there's really not that much to
tell. This morning, I had a briefing at

the Pentagon.

The Pentagon?

Oh, I love the Pentagon.

Were the flags out front snapping in the
wind?

Well, they weren't exactly snapping.
They were just sort of waving in the

breeze. And who did you talk to there,
Frank? Were there any generals? Did you

get to grill a general?

No, honest, just a colonel or two, and
that's it.

Let Aspen call. He's ready to see you.
Oh, thanks, Bobby. I gotta go. Can't

Les Aspen waiting.

Liz Aspen? I love Liz Aspen.

I'm sorry, Murph.

Listen, how about if I bring you
something back from the gift shop?

Maybe one of those floaty pens with a
stale farmer inside.

Say hi to Liz.

I see you, Jim.

You're looking good today. I was just
saying to Corky, considering the stress

she's been under, Murphy's looking
surprisingly good.

That's a surprising thing.

I'm sure I must have said astonishingly.

No.

So, how are things in Glacomora?

They suck, Jim.

Oh, Murphy, there you are. Now, I knew
you were feeling sad, so I decided to do

for you what I do for myself every day.
I sat down and wrote a list of ten

things you can be grateful for. Here,
read it.

Corky, please, I'm really not in the
mood.

Just try it.

It always works for me. I know it'll
make you feel better. Go on.

Number one.

At least I'm not stuck with that
disgusting, degrading hooker story.

Must have given you my list.

At least you got an idea of the way
these things work.

Good luck.

There's something you should keep in
mind, Slugger.

Anyone. can do a compelling story about
hard news, but to create award -winning

journalism out of cheap filth.

That's the mark of the great news.

217.

Murphy, the Murfinator.

FYI's own little slayer of big old news
dragon.

Nothing, Miles.

48 hours, grabbed her housekeeper, 2020
has her real estate agent, and the kid

who mows her lawn isn't talking to
anyone until he finishes his screenplay.

So, uh, you don't have much?

I don't think you understand.

I don't have anything, nada, but this,
the big Ziploc.

Okay, Murphy, you're off the story.

You just said you tried everything you
could. Look, you never liked this story,

so who could blame you if you weren't, I
don't know, hungry enough, willing to

dig a little deeper?

Obviously, other people were, which is
probably, you know, why you got scooped.

I guess, probably. Well, we'll never
know. I was thinking about doing the

on the free trade agreement. No, no, no,
no, no, no. No free trade. I just put a

challenge out there. You're supposed to
grab it.

Hungry, dig, scooped. Those are the
words of a challenge.

Intense pressure from the network.

I am the butt of jokes from other
producers.

Last night at the press club, they were
calling me miles away from the story

Silverberg.

I want Holly Adams. I want her bad.

You think I'm not trying?

I could put her dog groomer on film, get
the exclusive story of the chronic flea

problems of her precious little Shih
Tzu. Maybe you can live with filler like

that, Miles, but it's still Shih Tzu to
me.

best shot. I promise you, if there'd
been any legitimate lead whatsoever,

once until, I would have been on it like
that, but there is nothing.

Hey there, Murphy.

I've got that sandwich you ordered.

I didn't order anything. Yes, you did.

And you want to eat it in your office
right now.

Oh, no.

Come on, Murphy. Let's go look at that
sandwich. Do I have to?

I don't have to tell you that there are
certain stories I think you guys should

be above poking your noses into.

You know the kind I mean.

Lurid, tawdry, without redeeming social
value.

Right, right, right, Ant.

Even so, when information comes along
that I think may help out a friend, I'm

willing to overlook my moral dilemma.

On the back of this napkin is the
address where Holly Adams is hiding out.

Yes!

Oh, gee, thanks, Phil.

Well, there's gratitude for you.

Maybe I should have just taken this
state line.

They say I owe them one.

I don't know why.

If I told you to blow up a truck,
wouldn't you know I was joking?

This is so great.

Now all we have to do is... Take out
this address and we're back in business.

I'll arrange for your surveillance
truck. No, no, no, Miles. I think you

our surveillance truck. At least if I'm
going down, I'm taking you with me.

You're not going to be miles away from a
story on this one.

Young women make up the majority.

Oh, we're going to keep this up, Miles.
Don't you think if Holly were in there,

we would have seen something by now?

Where? In that Donna Karan ad?

lurking among those Ferragamo shoes.

Would you get in the gate, please?
Anything can happen tonight. We need to

ready. Don't worry about me, Miles.
First sign of anyone in or around the

I'm on the move.

And Murphy, if things turn ugly, I want
you to know I'm there for you,

just like Kevin Costner was there for
Whitney Houston in the bodyguard.

Good to know, Carl.

Think about it.

Whitney was always in the spotlight,
adored by millions.

while Kevin toiled quietly behind the
scenes.

Yet, fate had a way of hopelessly
intertwining their lives.

By the way, Miles, if there's anything I
could do to get you to stretch your

legs for half an hour or so, there's
some things a man can only say to a

in private.

Carl, if you could say that fate
intertwining their lives stuff in front

I think you could say just about
anything.

I just don't understand how you can be
so blasé.

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe he'd stop getting
to you after your 50th stakeout, but I

am jazzed. I mean, what could possibly
be more exciting than playing spy versus

spy, waiting, watching, hoping the other
guy will slip up? I will always love

you.

Carl, we're trying to draw as little
attention as possible.

Was I singing?

Sorry.

Right now.

Holly Adams, the woman all of America is
looking for, could be inside that

house. And what if she has a visitor?
Someone who wants to talk to her about

little black book. What if some judge or
a senator comes walking up and we're

there to confront them? Camera at the
ready, mic in hand.

What if we get someone even bigger?
Maybe a member of the cabinet or maybe

the president?

Who's that coming down the sidewalk?

It's the entire Supreme Court!

Joke all you want. But you know as well
as I do, plenty of groundbreaking

stories started with less than we have
here. Name one.

The HUD scandal.

Love Canal.

What if no one poked around long enough
to connect the arms sales to Iran with

the supplies to the Contras? What then?

Carl!

Come on, Murphy. Admit it. Weren't there
a few times you struck gold by

following some pretty weak leads?

What about Noradine Pharmaceuticals?

Oh, Nora Dine, I haven't thought about
that story in years. How do you know

about that story? I wrote a term paper
on it for my freshman mass media class.

A textbook case of undercover
journalistic investigation.

Sure, it's textbook now.

Boy, when I started working on that, the
only lead I had was about as flimsy

as... As Whitney's negligee in her first
on -screen love scene?

Every day for three weeks, you hid in
the ladies' lounge while the VP's

secretary smuggled you page after page
of company records until you found...

What was it again?

A phony research grant hiding a secret
slush fund used to bribe an FDA

I won my first Humboldt for that. And
you deserved it. Talk about your

perseverance.

Sort of reminds me of a couple of guys
from the 70s. A couple of guys who...

Wouldn't give up on a lead about a third
-rate burglary.

A couple of guys who gave us a little
story called Watergate. Oh, Miles.

No, it was a good story. It wasn't even
Watergate.

A Watergate?

No.

But maybe this one is.

Are you prepared to walk away now, never
knowing?

Or worse, to turn on your TV tomorrow
night and see Holly Adams sitting

Barbara Walters crying her eyes out as
Barbara hands her Kleenex after Kleenex.

Oh, I hate when she does that.

What does she do, Murphy? We all do.

Wouldn't it be great if once, just once,
Babs was the one doing the crying?

Yeah. Oh, yeah.

Make her cry, Murphy.

Do it for all of us. Hey, the light just
came on downstairs.

Someone's in there, see? They're coming
out.

Okay. Okay, Carl, get ready to move, but
not until she's at least 30 feet from

the door. We don't want her disappearing
back inside. The door's opening. Is it

Holly? Not unless she's a Chinese man
with a mustache.

Just a guy tearing up the trash.

Okay, okay, so it's not Holly. At least
we know there's someone in there.

There's a man coming down the street.
He's slowing down. He's stopping in

of the house. Does it look like a judge
or maybe a senator? Oh, my God, my

heart. It's pounding so fast. Can you
hear my heart?

He's going for the garbage can.

He's looking for something in the
garbage.

Oh, my gosh.

He's looking for something in the
garbage.

Hey, hey, hey. Get your hands out of my
garbage.

Get out of here.

Hey, I've got as much right to this
story as you do. I saw it first. Oh,

don't see your name on it.

Look what you did.

You know what? You ought to get help
really now. You're crazy. You're out of

your mind. What have you got? Nothing.

All right.

All right. You just drop that post -it
and step away from the garbage.

Now!

For God's sake, look at yourself.

What? Murphy!

What? Oh, God.

God. I got a hamburger helper on me.

I think to their level. No, I think
below their level.

I fought over garbage.

I fought over carrot tops and onion
skins.

Whatever the hell this is. I'm here for
you, Randy. I would have been here

sooner. But I pulled the hamstring
climbing out of the truck.

It's okay, Carl. How can you say that?

I failed you.

You know, I've had dreams where you were
covered with food.

It would be a long time before I had one
of those again.

I did this to you.

This is all my fault.

I'm calling the network.

No story is worth this. No. I'm just
sorry we both had to wallow in garbage

me to realize it. No, Miles.

Now we've both wallowed in garbage.

Well, it could have been worse.

We could have gone on the air with this
story and lost all our dignity.

Yeah. At least whatever humiliation we
suffered, we suffered in private.

Good evening.

Tonight, we take you to Bosnia and its
continuing civil war.

Then to Israel's West Bank, where peace
brings unforeseen changes.

But first, the Washington media circus
refuses to relinquish the tale of Holly

Adams. In a disturbing illustration of
the depths to which news correspondents

have sunk in their efforts to gather new
material, amateur video shot by a local

Washington resident reveals FYI's Murphy
Brown fighting with an unidentified man

over garbage.

allegedly belonging to the Beltway
Madam.

A sad commentary on the state of
journalism today.

Coming up, the British royal family,
caught with their pants down again.

Thank you.