Original subtitles

Okay, great work, people. That should give us enough stories to take us to the

end of the year. Did I say dismissed?

I don't think so.

Sit, sit, sit.

Everybody get out your calendars. Network gave me a list of functions they

you to attend.

Don't blame me. I'm just the messenger here.

Jim, you're speaking at the foreign press dinner on the 10th.

Corky, fundraiser at the Museum of American History on the 12th.

Frank, you'll be manning the phones at next week's PBS pledge drive.

Murphy, a reminder, the League of Women Voters has named you Female Broadcaster

of the Year. The luncheon's on the 29th. Wait a minute. Nobody told me there was

going to be a luncheon. That means I'll be eating up on a day that's in front of

everybody. Sure, you got a better angle to flick lima beans at Katie Couric's

head, but on the other hand, you can't pin it on anybody else.

Oh, what are you complaining about?

Those museum things are the worst.

There's no one there under 100, and it's so dark and noisy, you can't even tell

who you're talking to. Last year, I spent 10 minutes yelling into the ear of

kindly old man before I realized it was a wax figure of Ben Franklin.

Well, you've probably got a better response from waxy old Ben than I'll get

the foreign press.

Last time I spoke to them, all my clever puns and a perfectly good Marie

Chevalier joke zoom right over their foreign little heads.

At least you guys get food at yours. The only thing they have at those PBS

pledge drives is old coffee, carrot sticks, and whatever the frugal gourmet

didn't throw out the day before.

I don't believe... you guys. You should hear yourselves.

Oh, my life is so hard because I'm famous. Everyone wants to meet me. You

most people go their entire lives without getting as much attention as you

when you pick up your dry cleaning.

Well, sounds like someone hasn't quite gotten over losing the part of Curly in

his high school production of Oklahoma.

For your information, we did Fiddler on the Roof, and I killed his model,

Taylor.

And another thing, I have been asked to do something.

DC Magazine would like to include me.

Miles Silverberg in their yearly feature, Smart, Successful, and Single.

really? All right. And I don't want to be teased, taunted, or told not to do

I deserve this. I work hard, and what do I get?

I'm cropped out of every photo of the FYI team. I get the cheapest network

gifts. Last Christmas, you all got leather briefcases, and I got a major

fainting pack.

So do I.

Absolutely. Go ahead, Mike.

And every time I do get invited to something like this League of Women

thing, it's only because they need me to introduce you, and then I go back to my

usual role of keeping the seats warm and watching the purses.

Miles, why are you arguing with us? We're telling you to do it.

Because I don't know if I should.

Well, my whole career, my role has been behind the camera. I just don't know if

I'm much of an in -the -spotlight guy.

Oh, come on. It's a chance to be in a magazine with the headline smart,

successful, and single.

I'm guessing two minutes after you got the call, you were dancing around the

living room in your socks and underwear.

And besides, you deserve it. You are smart and successful.

And now, thanks to Audrey, you're single.

Think about it. It's like introducing yourself to thousands of women all over

Washington in one shot. They see a flattering picture, a sensitive quote, a

salary range.

You're halfway home. You haven't even had to spring for dinner.

Jim?

Jim, what do you think? Every minute I spend standing here is an extra ten

minutes on the beltway. Come on.

Miles, why are you even asking us? You make critical decisions around here

day. When are you going to stop being so cautious in your personal life?

You're right. You're absolutely right. Okay, you've talked me into it. I'm

it. Oh, wonderful. Good night, Miles.

Well, I don't know why I made such a big deal about it anyway.

It's just a local magazine.

I'm mostly doing it because my relatives are going to get a big kick out of it.

All right, good night.

Wander of wander, miracle of miracle.

God took a tailor by the hand, stood by his side.

Miles,

your ears are starting to turn pink. Are you holding your breath again?

I was, wasn't I?

God, so much to remember.

Don't blink, keep breathing. I don't know how Fabio does it.

Yeah, well, he has a bigger chest. You know, more lung capacity.

Since we've stopped, I think we're really good on the serious look. What do

say we try a smile?

A smile? Yeah, sure, I can do that.

What do you think?

Well, he's in focus, although in this case, I don't think that's necessarily a

plus.

the table i never sit i move i'm a moving guy you can't capture the

essence of my old silverberg unless you capture him in motion

i'm like a cheetah that way

one minute one minute i'm at the desk the next minute

Changing my mind.

Writing in another?

That's the real me.

And we love it. You do?

Sure. That's what was missed in that cheetah thing.

Go on and shoot him. I'd love to.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah. This feels good.

This feels right.

Sometimes, sometimes I loosen my tie like this. What do you think?

Unbelievable.

Here's a good idea. Here's a good idea. You know, sometimes...

Sometimes, I'm walking across the room.

I'm walking, I'm walking, someone calls my name. I turn, what?

Let's get that.

Do it again.

I'm walking, I'm walking, what?

I'm walking, I'm walking, what?

What is he doing?

I'm not sure, but I think he's starting a conga line.

This is almost too painful to watch, almost.

No, Miles, not the thumbs -up sign. It's so 80s. Dear Lord, he just wet his

lips.

I have to stop him. No, no, no, just a few more minutes.

We've got some really great shots here. Why don't we just quit while we're

ahead?

With all due respect, Eric, you don't get to be featured in an article like

smart, successful, and single by quitting. So, let's just shoot one more

Only this time, I think we'll do it without the glasses.

Who's there?

I guess you were right, Frank. Looks like we can go home now. Bye -bye, Mom.

Stop it! Just stop it! You were spying on me a minute!

Spying?

They made me do it. I had no choice. It was cartoon day.

Miles, we're sorry.

We were just curious.

But if you feel uncomfortable, we'll leave.

Absolutely. I didn't want to be here.

Sorry for the delay, Eric. Just some of my hard -working anchors working harder

than they should be. Sometimes I practically have to kick them out, like

Get out.

I just want you to know, I think you're doing great.

You have one of those faces the camera just loves.

I want a 150mm lens on that house of blood. Switch to a diffusion filter. And

for heaven's sake, kick up the fill light if you ever want to get rid of

suitcases he's carrying under his eyes.

Good luck.

Thank you. Now leave.

Wait for the room to clear. I think we should make sure we got everything in

this interview.

Let's see.

Favorite foods?

Egg beaters on an English muffin.

Chris, but not her. Got it.

Left book read, tax planning for the 90s.

Thoughts on being single.

Will you go already?

You say you want a little attention, and then when we try to give it to you, you

just push us away. That hurts. It really does.

All right.

You want to know what it says?

I'm interested in finding a really special woman. A partner, a friend, an

intellectual equal.

I'm not just a guy looking for a sexual plaything to cater to my every women's

desire. There.

What do you think? Is it too serious? I thought about putting in a joke, but I

didn't want to come off as flip. And the intellectual equal thing, you know, I

threw it in at the last minute. Could you tell me? No, nothing. We've seen

Claus. I liked it.

Come on, guys.

We're walking. We're walking. What?

We're walking. We're walking.

We're walking. We're walking. We're walking.

Well, today's the big day, your first magazine spread.

Now make sure you have plenty of copies for your family and friends. You don't

want to leave anyone out. Don't worry, Corky, I made a list.

Very smart.

Let me check it over. Okay, but it's just preliminary.

I'm still working on it.

So, you're sending one copy to your parents, one to your brother, one to

Silverberg. Wait a minute, you've got Audrey down for 12 copies.

One a month for the next year. Just a little reminder of what you could have

had.

And who's Mr. Batista?

My high school gym teacher.

Told me asthma inhalers work for wimps. Wait until he checks out my salary

range. We'll see who's wheezing then.

Wow, I didn't know you knew Claudia Schiffer. Well, I don't, yet. But hey,

Lyle Lovett can get Julia Roberts, anything's possible.

Everybody, field trip down to the lobby to see if DC Magazine is in yet. Bring

your magic marker. There's ten bucks for whoever can draw the best facial hair

on miles.

Frank, but no one gets to see that magazine before me. I already sent Tony

to the publisher to get a few copies hot off the presses, and I told them to

take them straight up to my office. So you are just going to have to wait.

Hey, everybody, look who I ran into in the lobby.

Get them while they're hot.

Tony, I'm sorry, Mr. Silverberg, but it wasn't worth dying for.

Hey, hey, hey, watch it. Don't bend them like that.

Garth, Garth, Garth, wipe your hands. You've got sugar donut on your fingers.

There he is.

Please turn to page 72 in your journals right across from the Scratch and Sniff

Obsession ad.

You not only look good, you smell good, too.

You know, you cannot teach a wink like that. You're just born with it, huh?

All right. Miles Silverberg, FYI's hotshot young executive producer.

A world -class sprinter in the fast -paced field of broadcasting. He loves

work, but is still looking for that special woman to complete his life, says

Silverberg. I'm just a guy looking for a sexual plaything to cater to my every

whim and desire.

Very funny, Jim. Now read it the right way. I did.

I'm just a guy looking for a sexual plaything to... No, no. No, no, no.

I'm not just a guy. I'm not just a guy. That's what I said.

Not according to this.

No, according to this, you're a pig.

I swear there was a knot. They left out my knot.

That Stephanopoulos quote has four knots. Maybe he stole one of yours.

This isn't funny. People are going to read this and think I'm looking for a

sexual plaything to cater to my every whim and desire.

So, what are you saying? That's not what you're looking for?

Now, Miles, look on the bright side.

You can barely see the bags under your eyes.

Miles, it's a mistake these things happen. And besides, it's a local

How big can the circulation be?

250 ,000. That many, huh?

Come on, it's a typo.

This magazine has a lot of explaining to do.

I better see a big, big retraction. Oh, that's not good enough. They've got some

phone calls to make. About 250 ,000 of them.

I said not.

I said not! I swear it!

Hello. Hi. Please, continue eating.

Way to slip into a room.

You find my pain amusing, do you, Frank? Well, you should get a real kick out of

these angry, factless, obscene phone messages.

And I think it's pretty safe to assume I no longer have a snowball's chance in

hell with Claudia Schiffer.

I think it's pretty safe to assume you never really did.

Shut up.

Now, Miles, you just have to hang on till the magazine prints a correction.

Then you'll see this whole thing blow right up. That's two weeks away.

I may not live that long. Last night, Betty Ferdinand chased me through two

levels of the parking garage.

Let me tell you, for a woman her age, she can move.

If she hadn't broken her heel going over that speed bump, I don't know what

would have happened.

I just ran into Bob Packwood in the men's room. He asked me to thank you.

Apparently his hate mail has dropped off considerably since your article.

He also suggested that if you had any diaries, you might want to burn them.

Hey there, Miles.

I'll be your waitress today.

I thought that'd be easier, since the others are back there fighting over who

gets to be your sexual plaything.

Oh, gee, Phil, the joke about the magazine. Very amusing, and almost as

your meatloaf.

Ah, well, kids shake it off.

So they left out your knot.

After years of reading quotes like, I am not a crook, I will not raise taxes, I

did not inhale, people in Washington see a knot, they tend to throw it out

anyway.

Hi, guys.

Just so you don't think all women hate you, I spent about half the morning on

the phone with a post trying to convince them to run some sort of blurb

explaining your situation.

You're kidding!

Oh, Murphy, this is great! Thank you!

When is it going to run? Well, actually, it won't. You see, while they found

your story funny, they didn't think it was newsworthy. On the other hand, they

say it's getting harder to find a guy who will actually admit he's a sexist

chick, so if you're willing to stand behind your quote, they'll give you the

cover of the Sunday magazine.

I thought this might help.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

My life just keeps getting better and better.

Uh, excuse me. Are you Miles Silverberg?

You know, people make that mistake all the time. Actually, I'm George

Stephanopoulos. Nice. A pig and a coward. Now, hold on a second. Before

anything else, you should know the guy was misquoted. He's an innocent victim

here, and he does not deserve to be treated like this. Oh, right. They're

misquoted. He's a pig.

And anyone who defends him is a pig, too.

Hey, hey, hey.

Frank Fontana is not a pig.

You took the time to get to know me, and instead of just stereotyping me, you

see that I'm a sensitive and enlightened guy who cares about women and the

issues facing them.

In fact, I'd be willing to talk over those issues with you over a drink

sometime.

Heck, I wouldn't let you pay.

You just... Disgust me.

Maybe I am a pig.

I am not.

And I never have been. You can accuse me of being many things.

Hypochondriac? Yes.

Workaholic? Sure.

Borderline neurotic with occasional bouts of hypertension?

Guilty as charged.

But a pig?

Never. This just is not fair. You're absolutely right, Miles. It's not. But

will pass.

And you'll be a better person for it. Remember, that which does not kill me

makes me stronger.

That's right, Miles.

Why, you just have to hang tough. By the time of that luncheon next week, this

whole thing will be just a memory.

What luncheon? The League of Women Voters Award. Remember, you're

me.

Oh, oh, right. The League of Women Voters should be fun.

I'm really looking forward to that.

I'm a dead man.

Nick at night.

Miles, quick. D .D. Myers got her back turned. Did you save any of your lima

beans? Will you turn around and face the room?

I'm facing the room.

Your chair is facing the room. The rest of it looks like it's auditioning for

Pretzel Boy at Circus Vargas. Now turn around.

I can't.

There's too many of them. This was a mistake.

I should have started off... slower.

I walked through the cosmetics department at Neiman's, a brief stop at

Gallo's shoes, but no, I had to listen to you.

Now look at me, surrounded by 150 independent and politically militant

most of whom are holding cutlery. Oh, God.

Custer had a better chance at Little Bighorn.

They're just slowly... sipping their decaf to lull you into a false sense of

security. Any minute now, that woman in the beige suit is going to let out a war

whoop and a room full of crazed women is going to give you a second bris.

Excuse me. What?

If you're ready, we should probably get started.

Oh, yes, sir. Of course.

I will. Thank you.

nice, but as if she could hide the loathing and contempt in her voice, the

hatred, the rage.

Did you practically call me an animal?

All right, that's enough. Look, I know this has been hard, but you can't let it

rule your life. Now, I want you to walk up to that podium and show these women

what you're made of.

That's exactly what I'm going to do.

Just as soon as I finish this fabulous creme brulee.

20 years of political reporting. I'd like to get up there before it's 21.

Now move it!

Uh, excuse me.

Uh, hello?

Excuse me.

Shake out your shoes before you put them back on.

Good afternoon.

I'm Miles Silverberg, executive producer of FYI.

I am very proud to have the opportunity to introduce Murphy Brown.

As a reporter, Murphy has made a career of digging beneath the surface, looking

for the real story.

Never assuming that what a person is supposed to have done is something they

actually did.

Or wanted to do or would ever consider doing.

Because I didn't. It was a tragic mistake. A mistake completely out of my

control. And if I hurt anyone, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

Miles somebody from FYI.

Oh, right.

He's the guy who put on that phony No One's Art documentary.

No,

no, no, no. No, that wasn't me.

No, wait. He's the one that rigged that gas tank so the truck would explode.

That wasn't me.

No. He did that story on toxic dumping that didn't use film from the actual

site. All right, stop fighting with me!

I'm Miles Silverberg.

DC Magazine, you know.

The guy who's just looking for a sexual plaything to cater to every woman's

desire.

They dropped the knot.

I was misquoted. I swear to God.

Did they drop my knot?

I have a T -shirt.

Here's Barbie.

Thank you.

Thank you. It's going.

Bye. Thanks.

Hi. Hi. I thought you'd be halfway to Mexico by now.

I was in the men's room.

There's a vent over the center of Dalton.

Picked up the PA system pretty clearly, so I was able to hear most of your

speech. I would have caught it all, except the little man who hands out the

towels called security, and I had to leave.

Up until then, I thought it was going very well. Oh, well, there's nothing

a great introduction to get you off to a flying start.

Murphy, I didn't plan on getting up there and saying all those things. It's

that when I looked out, I suddenly felt all these eyes looking right at me.

So you were standing at a podium in front of a room full of people, and you

everyone looking at you.

Hello, Mr. Ripley?

I feel like such an idiot.

I mean, they didn't even know who I was. Last week, I was the talk of the town.

Today, I was swept into the dustbin of history along with Pet Rocks and Joey

Heatherton.

So the whole thing blew over. Isn't that what you wanted? Well, yes.

I mean, no. I mean, I wanted...

A little attention, but I wanted some nice attention.

This was a nightmare.

Welcome to the wonderful world of celebrity, Miles.

Look, I've been doing this a long time, and one thing I can definitely tell you

is if you stick your head above the crowd, sooner or later you're going to

hit by lightning.

I don't know how you live with that.

Well, you don't get too puffed up with the good things they print, and you

get too depressed about the bad.

And when it gets too tough, you just put on an overcoat, a cap, and some dark

glasses and pass yourself off as a man. In your case, I'd recommend a pageboy

wig and...

A pair of pumps.

It's okay. I don't think I'll be needing them. I'll let you be the lightning rod

if you want.

I'm going back to my old role of keeping the seats warm and watching the purses.

And that'll be enough for you? Oh, plenty.

Excuse me, Miss Brown. Can I grab one last picture of you for the Tribune?

thing. Here, let me take your coat. No, I have a better idea.