On a brisk, clear December evening, at the height of the Roman Empire and precisely two thousand, one hundred and sixty-seven years (and two days) before the fourth season finale of The Sopranos, a small band of Hebrew fighters led by Judah, son of Matthias of Modin, faced near insurmountable odds as they began a campaign to free their homeland from the evil tyranny of the Assyrian king Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus had decreed that no religion should be practiced in the Holy Land, and even banned outright the consecration of the Sabbath, as well as the practices of kashrut and circumcision. Unwilling to accept this assault upon his faith, Judah -- a man whose moniker would be the envy of any modern mafioso (Judah Maccabee, a.k.a. Judah The Hammer) -- led his ragtag band of soldiers out of the hills and into a climactic confrontation on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Though vastly outnumbered and ill-equipped for combat, they miraculously prevailed upon the field of battle, and soon recaptured the Holy Temple built by Solomon so many years before. They found, however, that it had been desecrated and defiled almost beyond repair during the reign of Antiochus, and within the Kadesh Hakodeshim -- The Holy of Holies itself -- the Ner Tamid (Eternal Flame) had long since been extinguished. A search of the temple turned up only enough sanctified oil to light the flame for a single day, when even the most optimistic of sages believed that it would take at least a week to purify. And so they lit the flame, using what little fuel they had, and to the surprise of everyone it burned not for one day, but for eight. And so the miracle of Chanukah was inscribed in the book of Maccabees, and is celebrated even today as a festival of joy and remembrance.
But what, you may ask, has this to do with The Sopranos? Well, aside from the obvious analogy of stretching a single episode's worth of plot across an entire thirteen-week season, there is also the notion of the ragtag storyline of Carmela's marital discord surviving to triumph against the overwhelming odds of an army of tertiary characters. But mostly, this is simply a time to give thanks, and to remember the miracles of days and seasons past. For as we say on each of the eight nights as we light the menorah candles, "Baruch atah David Chase, elohenu melech ha'HBO, shay-asa nissim lavoteinu, bayamim hahem, lazman hazeh." Blessed art thou, David Chase, ruler of HBO, who performed wondrous deeds for our ancestors in days of old at this season.
David Chase: Call me Ishmael.
Aaron: Excuse me?
David Chase: I don't know. It sounded vaguely Biblical, plus it fits your whole "opening line" motif.
Aaron: Yeah, but that's a book. I do TV shows.
David Chase: At least it's not a gay book.
Aaron: Well, there is that chapter where they hold hands in a tub of whale sperm.
David Chase: That's in Moby Dick? I always thought that was from Six Feet Under.
Aaron: Actually, it does sound like something they might do on Oz.
Finale fade up on Carmela, looking like crap as she sucks on a thermometer in a doctor's office somewhere. Behind her, an out-of-focus Tony flips through a magazine and sighs with boredom. Hmm. I don't really remember Carmela being sick this season, but I was so happy not to have to recap last week's episode that I barely even watched it. So is it true that AJ is gay? And Paulie likes the older women? That's what I heard, at least. Anyway, this viral tableaux is interrupted by the sadly non-humorous ring of Tony's cell phone. It's Patsy Peesy, and he's calling to report that Christopher is out of rehab. "He looks good," adds Patsy, although I'm not sure how he can tell, given that Adriana's tongue is wrapped most of the way around Christopher's face. Patsy also takes a moment to flip off the suddenly ubiquitous Agent RICO Suave, whose video rental commercial has followed me around the dial lately with the dogged determination of an FBI surveillance team. Tony passes along the happy news to Carmela, and then the doctor arrives to report that she doesn't have lupus. "Score one for the Italians," he says, and I guess it's safe to assume he didn't bother testing her for Tay Sachs. That joke, by the way, like all the others so far in this recap, is funnier if you're Jewish. Those of you who aren't can just pretend she's suffering from the ever-popular Moroccan Death Flu. "How's your emotional level?" inquires the doctor. "Stress off the charts lately, like the rest of us [who have to recap seventy-five-minute, commercial-free episodes]?" Carmela fails to acknowledge any sudden stress-inducing changes in her life, but does mention that "each day runs into the ," which allows Tony and the doctor to share a meaningful glance as they both recognize the symptoms of depression. The doctor recommends that she continue taking Advil, but Tony steps on any notion of a proper product placement by mentioning that heroin addicts get all the good drugs, while the rest of us are stuck with the "little, yellow, different" crap. On the other hand, you can buy Claritin over the counter now, which only serves to confirm my belief that there is, in fact, a God.
Tony's car. Carmela thanks him for bringing her to the doctor's office, but then gets a little snotty (pardon the sickness pun) when she notices that he missed the turn-off for their house. Tony claims he has a stop to make, and suggests that the sea air and a trip to a favorite restaurant will do her some good. "Goddammit," she replies. "Yeah, I really want lobster." Heh. I'm taking the fact that she's apparently decided to start keeping kosher as a shout-out, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
Continuing with this week's "Married to the Mob" theme, we now cut to Ginny and Johnny Sack, as she finds him enjoying a refreshing cigarette in the backyard. Flick…ahhhhh. She also informs him that they're late on their daughter's student loan payment, and that in response, she'll be going to Nordstrom's to buy clothes for their impending trip to Italy. Johnny is not at all pleased by this news, and snarls that he's losing money each and every day the Esplanade project remains shut down. Then he swears a few times and stomps off, leaving Ginny to wonder what she did to anger him.
we get an overhead shot of the Jersey Shore, which is easily identifiable due to the heaping mounds of medical waste separating the ocean from the road. Tony's Suburban pulls into a random driveway, and Carmela is confused to see her father's pick-up truck parked nearby. Because Tony's boyish smile and the large "For Sale" sign in the foreground aren't enough to give it away, she turns to ask him "what the hell is going on?" "That's for me to know and you to find out," he answers as they climb out of the car. After introducing her to the real estate agent, he points out that the house they're buying even has a name: Whitecaps. It's never said aloud, but I'm awarding StTM points anyway (228), mainly due to the excessively tacky nature of the seashells adorning the sign. Carmela is shocked, and concerned that they won't be able to afford the place with all the current Esplanade issues, but Tony remains philosophical about the whole thing. "It's for the family," he explains. "As the kids get older [read: demand more money for season], it's harder to keep us all together. But this, this is a draw. And for us, too," he adds. "When we were piss-poor, this was the biggest caviar dream we could come up with." Somewhere in the world, Robin Leach rouses himself from a drunken stupor long enough to wonder, "But what about the champagne wishes?" Then he goes back to cursing his agent. "Kind of reminds you of the Kennedy compound, don't it?" Tony asks a still-unsure Carmela. Well, sure, if you consider the amount of rapists and bad drivers likely to be populating the place.
Inside the house, Tony and Carmela admire the ocean view while the real estate agent (named Virginia Lupo, which one can only assume is another lupus-related sickness pun) provides all the necessary exposition. It seems that the house has actually already been sold, but the presumptive buyers are having trouble coming up with financing. Since Tony would be offering cash (wink wink, nudge nudge), she thought there might be a chance they could swoop in and grab the place. Then she waves to the current owner, who lives door and is standing out on his porch with the preppy over-the-shoulders sweater look, doing his best Bob Ross impersonation. The owner offers just enough of a jaunty wave to let us know that he's an asshole, and then the scene ends.
Courtroom. Sigh. The most boring trial in the world is finally wrapping up, with the judge proclaiming that the jury is unable to agree on a verdict. Man, you know things are bad when you actually start missing Judge Ito. Even so, the judge insists that he's going to instruct the jury to keep trying. Junior is furious, but F. Lee Melvoin reminds him that they have to let things play out. The jury is brought back in, and while the judge drones on about civic duties and whatnot, we get several shots of the other jurors rolling their eyes at the one dude Thin Guy targeted with a threat last week. Extended airtime is given to the only other juror with a SAG card here, just so that we'll recognize her later on. Meanwhile, Junior affixes Threatened Juror with his best Mr. Magoo death stare. Hee! "I'm going to ask you to reason with each other," continues the judge, "and apply the law, and come back in here with a verdict."
"If not, I want to move on," metas Tony into his phone. Heh. Even the writers know how boring that subplot is. He's standing at the Chez Soprano front door, paying off a delivery guy for a large order of Chinese food. Mmmm, General Tso. Conspiracy theorists, take note: this guy is absolutely NOT Jesus Rossi. Tony carries the food inside, and is soon joined by a still sickly-looking Carmela. She's concerned that they can't afford the house with AJ's college bills coming up in a few years, and Tony chooses to reply by saying that the other buyers seem to have found their financing, rather than commenting that tuition at Hoboken Vo-Tech probably won't be much of a burden for them. While Carmela OCDs about the proper placement of knives and forks around their plates, Tony is furious to discover that their order is missing the "goddamn mother-fucking orange peel beef." AJ wanders in, clueless as usual, and wonders what it is that the grown-ups are talking about. When he hears about the house down by the shore, he's thrilled. "Un-fucking-believable!" he exclaims, shocking his parents. To be fair, I was shocked too, but only because I was desperately hoping to hear him say, "What, no fucking orange peel beef now?" "You're fined three dollars for the F-word," nags Carmela, using a parenting strategy that, if applied to Alan Ball, would likely generate enough revenue to mean that HBO would never have to place products again. AJ's defense that he heard Dad swearing as well doesn't earn him any points, as Carmela insists that she's going to "make this policy work." "It's too late," replies AJ, just to show that the grown-ups aren't the only ones who get to be meta.
Later on, Tony and Carmela are in bed when she wakes him out of a sound slumber to passive-aggressive a bit about the beach house. Applying the knowledge she gained from her real estate courses, she decides that the house might not be a bad investment, and even goes so far as to say that they probably wouldn't lose money if they decided to make the purchase. "I know you," she adds. "If you don't get the place you'll sulk, and I'll be the wet blanket." "I'll sulk?" wonders Tony, in an unusual moment of perceptivity. "I was sleeping." Carmela reminds him that the real estate agent's number is still on the bureau, and then pontificates, "More is lost by indecision than wrong decision." Um, are we sure it's Furio she fantasizes about, and not Pa Kent? Nothing excites a woman more than a well-turned platitude, you know.
The morning, Tony emerges from the house to find Christopher self-medicating in the driveway with a can of Coke. Hmm. I thought he was supposed to stay away from caffeine? I guess product placement has an even higher recidivism rate than heroin addiction. And I don't care what kind of damage-control spin they put out in USA Today, somebody is getting paid for this stuff. Anyway, they go for a drive, with Tony asking all about the rehab experience. Christopher is grateful for the intervention (aren't we all), and reports that he's completed all twelve steps except for the one where he apologizes to everyone for his misdeeds. "Maybe you shouldn't do that one," considers Tony. "You know, let sleeping dogs lie." Why? Is he afraid Chris will dig up Joey's head to apologize? Chris, however, agrees with this idea. "Maybe in a couple of cases I'll send flowers," he explains. "Or cash, in some cases." Good idea, Chris. My email address is in my profile. I'll be expecting a PayPal notification any day now.
Incidentally, my Hawaiian secret admirer rocks!
Now see? This is what I meant when I called bullshit on that USA Today article. HBO is all like, "We want to show competing brands, because it's realistic," but when you get right down to it, there's been precisely ONE non-Apple computer shown in the four seasons of this show. And here we are in Office Max again, complete with long, lingering shots of the company logo, when I'm fairly certain there's got to be at least one Staples somewhere in the Newark metropolitan area. Somebody better douse that HBO rep in Snapple, because if she lies anymore, her pants are going to catch fire. Once the commercials are out of the way, we pan over to see Tony and Johnny Sack walking the aisles for a business meeting. Johnny explains that Carmine hasn't changed his position on the Esplanade and HUD deals, and further exposits that a move by Tony to whack Carmine would be at least understood by the other New York bosses. "If I do it, what do you do for me?" asks Tony. "I take a sad song, and make it better," replies Johnny. Heh. He says he can smooth things over with New York, but he's still finding Tony slightly harder to manipulate than Paulie was. They tie things back to the real world with a mention of the Paul Castellano hit, and Tony sets his terms for agreeing to the job: "All claims to my HUD business are irrigated," he malaprops. "And all future construction projects are 60/40 in my favor." Johnny looks like he swallowed a bug, but he finally agrees. Then they hug. Aww. Nothing brings two guys together like an agreement to kill the boss. Just look at me and Daniel.
Back in the car, Tony explains to Christopher about the hit on Carmine. Chris is impressed that they've got Johnny Sack's backing, and Tony reminds him of how hurt Johnny was when Carmine failed to support him during The War of the Ninety-Five Pound Mole. "Life's funny, huh," opines Christopher, basking in the newly-headless irony of it all. He then suggests using some "black guys" he knows that could provide plausible deniability for the hit. "Are they trustworthy, these guys?" asks Tony. Chris assures him that they are, and Tony instructs him to "make sure," while delivering the now-patented look that means "making sure" will involve a significant amount of gunplay.
It seems that into everyone's life a little shirtless Moltisanti must fall. It's probably not as good as shirtless Facinelli, for those of you who are into that sort of thing, but I suppose it will have to do. He and Tony are down at the beach house when the lawyer door comes over to find out who's loitering on his property. The guy is played by Bruce Altman, who's made a career out playing smarmy guys, and with good reason. He is pretty smarmy. Anyway, Tony introduces himself to Lawyer Bruce, who doesn't even bat an eyelash when he hears the presumably recognizable name "Tony Soprano." They banter about the house and the other buyers for a few minutes, and the upshot is that Lawyer Bruce calls off the original deal, and agrees to sell to Tony.
Back at Maison de Soprano, Carmela rolls over in bed to take a call from the real estate agent. She's ecstatic to learn that they got the house, and we immediately cut to her, Tony, and AJ pulling up in front of the place. Carmela seems to be feeling much better as she exclaims over how beautiful everything is, but then Meadow shows up with her boyfriend, her babushka, and her bad attitude to spoil everything. "Oh my God, this is nice," she says, as if she didn't believe such a thing was possible coming from her parents. Shut up, Meadow. "You'll inherit this," says Tony as Foreshadowing leads them inside.
A quick cut later, we're out on the beach at sunset with Tony and Carmela. "Anthony Soprano, you are full of surprises," she tells him, unaware of some of the more vicious surprises still to come. "It's good to see a smile on your face," he replies, as they kiss in the surf. Careful observers of foreshadowing will note that the placement of Carmela's hands in this scene almost makes it appear as if she's pushing him away. Even in their most tender moment all season, their fate remains inevitable.
Far away from the pounding surf, Christopher is meeting with the aforementioned black guys in an inner-city neighborhood. They quiz him about his sobriety, and remind him of their loyalty: "We sold you H when that was your thing, and still we're here when it's wop-whacking time in Brooklyn." Incidentally, the one guy's facial hair and headgear selection goes a long way towards making him look like the bastard child of Adebisi and Said. "It should look like a car-jacking," explains Christopher, prompting yet another meta reply: "See? That's why you came to us. That's some stereotypin' shit." Heh. Christopher delivers the details on Carmine's mall-walking schedule (also heh), and then hands over a down payment on the hit.
And now, despite the fact that we're already quite a few pages and twenty some-odd minutes into the episode, the real fireworks finally begin. AJ cruises through the kitchen to the refrigerator, and stops to answer the phone when it rings. It's Irina, and as usual, she's drunk and attired in some very fetching lingerie. At least she has the courtesy to look sexy while she's annoying me, unlike, oh, say…Meadow, for example. After referring to AJ as "the handsome boy" (and what's up with Tony's goomars' tendencies towards pedophilia this season?), she asks to speak with his mother. Carmela gets on the phone, and Irina immediately informs her that she "used to fuck [Carmela's] husband." Carmela quickly hangs up, but the phone rings again seconds later. This time Irina is even more talkative. "Tony loves me, you know?" she slurs. "If it wasn't for his kids you'd be out on the street." Only Irina could take the whipping Tony gave Boon as a sign of love. Well, maybe Joey could, too, but now we'll never know, will we? She then goes on to spill the beans about Svetlana, claiming that she and Carmela have something in common because they're both being cheated on. Then, after Carmela calls her a piece of shit, Irina adds this little gem: "Yes, I am a piece of shit. I'm a piece of shit which the world every morning strains and pushes out of its butt." I don't even know what that means, but ew nevertheless. The women hang up on each other after exchanging threats, and Carmela takes a moment to compose herself.
Cut to Tony, cruising up the driveway with "Layla" blaring on the car stereo. Heh. That, of course, gets double bonus relevancy points, for both the Goodfellas allusion and also for being a song about another man's wife. In fact, the other man in question was George Harrison, which means it even ties into the Beatles bit from the Office Max scene. Very clever, kids. I don't, however, think this sad song will be getting any better, because Tony is forced to come to a screeching halt when he finds his golf clubs strewn across the driveway. Props as well to director John Patterson here, for editing things into a nifty little parody of the opening credits, complete with the slamming car door. Hell, you could even argue that the skittering golf balls rolling every which way symbolize Tony's own balls, and all the wayward directions they've gone off in this season. Anyway, before we get too deep about all this, Tony runs inside to see what's going on. He's met by a hail of shoeboxes, as Carmela screams in fury and races to lock herself in the bedroom. He chases her upstairs, but pulls up short in front of the locked door. "Carm?" he calls out. "What's the matter? What did I do now, huh?" She finally opens the door, and tearfully lays into him over Irina's call. "She's insane," replies Tony, trying to defend himself. "She's fucking certifiable. I told you, you can't believe anything she says, whatever it is. And we haven't seen each other," he continues, before remembering the belting and adding, "like that." "What about her cousin?" snipes Carmela. "Who I liked? Who I talked to on the telephone about your mother's alopecia, and her bowel movements?" Shout-out? Alopecia runs in my family, you know. "There is not a shred of truth in that," lies Tony, and Carmela immediately wonders why Irina would make something like that up. "It's because she's jealous," she shrieks, trying to shove Tony away. He grabs her arms and wrestles her up against the wall, which prompts even more shrieking before he finally lets her go.
After catching her breath, Carmela turns and walks into the bedroom. Tony follows, but between sobs she screams at him to get out. Another shout-out? I doubt it. Tony tries in vain to calm her down, but when he lays a hand on her shoulder, she slaps it away and demands that he never touch her again. "So you've had a one-legged one now, huh?" she asks. "That's nice. You've had quite a time on my watch. The pre-school assistant, the weightlifter, the six-foot tall Icelandic lesbian trivia-freak stewardess." In the interests of lightening up a heavy scene, I'll just interject to say that while I personally have never had sex with a one-legged woman, I did once do it with a girl who had an extra bone in her foot that looked sort of like a sixth toe. She insisted on keeping her socks on in bed, though, so it never really became much of an issue. And thus concludes the inappropriate sharing portion of the recap. Tony responds to this laundry list of affairs by angrily reminding his wife that at least he never stole from her, although he does get the amount wrong when he accuses her of taking forty thousand, rather than fifty. Carmela denies everything, telling her husband that he sounds demented, and then adds, "You want to hit me, Tony? Go ahead." He doesn't, so she turns away and again tells him to get out, screeching, "I just can't take it anymore." He tries one last time to convince her of his innocence, but she whirls around and brings up the fingernail she found on his night table. "That wasn't hers!" he starts to say, before thinking better of it. Realizing at last that he's been caught, he backs away and offers to take a polygraph to prove that he didn't "carry on an affair" with Svetlana. I guess that's technically true, although it does sort of rank right up there with "I did not have sexual relations with that woman." After Carmela insists for the millionth time that he leave the house, he asks about the kids. "Yeah, it's horrible," she answers. "God help them." Then she collapses on the bed, wracked with sobs, and Tony silently walks out of the room. And while I'm all for giving Edie Falco the Emmy for this episode, I do think they took it just a little too far over the top in this scene. But that's just me.
Perhaps harkening back to his days with Aida Turturro in the cast of "A Streetcar Named Desire," Tony goes over to Irina's house and starts pounding on the door and screaming her name. It's fun to turn down the volume and pretend he's yelling, "Stella!" Try it. You'll see. Anyway, it turns out that Irina isn't there, but Svetlana is. She comes out to join him on the porch, and testily informs him that Irina blames Tony for her break-up with Boon, because Boon "couldn't perform" ever since the belt incident, and now Irina is back to her lonely ways. Tony realizes that it was Branca (a.k.a. Nurse Bratchett) who must have told Irina about him and Svetlana, and Svetlana agrees. "We had bad argument about FICA and federal withholding I take from her paycheck, " she explains. Tony has a good laugh about that, and I imagine David Chase did too, as he subtly works in yet another tale about a famous mobster brought down by tax problems. His mood changes, however, when he remembers the children. "I gotta go home tomorrow," he snarls, "and I gotta tell my kids we're separated. It's gonna rip them up." "Divorce is very hard for kids," replies Svetlana. "After this, they don't trust." Now, on the one hand, my parents are still together, so I don't really have any room to talk here, but on the other, fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce these days, and it's not like Meadow and AJ aren't old enough to know the score. And besides, those two haven't exactly demonstrated that they ever had a whole lot of trust in their parents in the first place, so I'm not sure why we're supposed to be so worried about them. Tony is still furious about it, however. He demands sympathy from Svetlana, who has none to give, and even goes so far as to call her the "most expensive piece of ass" he's ever had. Which really isn't all that surprising. If my recent trip to Vegas has taught me anything, it's that one-legged ass costs way more than the normal kind. Eventually he quiets down, and they stare at each other for a moment. "I know what you are thinking," she says, once it's clear he's thinking about coming inside to be with her. Instead, she touches his hand, and tells him everything will be all right. Then she goes inside, never to be seen again this season.
And seeing as how I just mentioned it, it must be time for the obligatory Vegas shout-out paragraph. The following people all kick ass: The guy who chased me down the street to offer me free porn, the waitress who kept bringing me drinks during my zombie-like two-hour winning streak that ran from 2:00 to 4:00 AM, the inventor of the bathtub, Strega (for being my first), Jessica (for being there at last), Miss Alli (for being my foil, as always), Wing Chun (for claiming she didn't know I smoked), Omar (for having small luggage), Pamie and Stee (for bringing the best game ever), Glark (for the posters and the pretzel vampires), Gustave, Alex Richmond, Sars, Heathen, and Lauren (for sitting at the cool kids' table, plus bonus points to Heathen and Lauren for introducing me to Danny Gans), Kim (for spotting a Backstreet Boy at the airport), and Sobell, Keckler, Shack, Ace, and Sep (for sitting at the equally cool, albeit Star Trek-obsessed, table). Oh, and the Couch Baron, for being the only man on earth who could have survived that airline experience. Vegas, baby!
Whitecaps, baby! Tony pulls up in front of the beach house after dark, and uses a code-activated lock box on the front door to sneak inside with some blankets and a pillow. He settles in for a refreshing night's sleep on the hardwood floor.
And seeing as how Tony often dreams of legs, we now cut to Adriana's shapely calves, as she strides through a parking garage on her way to a meeting with Agent Not Mare. After grinding out her cigarette with a Jimmy Choo heel, Adriana climbs into Not Mare's car and prepares to endure an interrogation. Not Mare asks about Christopher, and when she hears that he's now clean and sober, she asks if the wedding is back on. "We haven't talked about it," answers Adriana, "But I think things look good for season. Maybe even in the final episode! Wouldn't that be romantic?" Not Mare asks about Tony, and then brings up the missing Joey Pants. Adriana's response? "Chrissy says he has a pretty serious drug problem, too. He may have hit bottom somewhere. Chrissy says he wants to help get him in recovery when he resurfaces." Hee! "Hit bottom"? "Resurfaces"? Now THAT'S comedy gold, Jerry. Then she asks if Not Mare knows Joey's second in command, and a perfect shout-out opportunity is wasted when Not Mare calls him "the fat guy" instead of "the wide guy." Damn you, Not Mare! Now I'm all pissed that you didn't get convicted on Law & Order the other night. Anyway, it seems that Wide Guy kept calling Adriana every five minutes while Christopher was away to see if she "needed anything." Not Mare agrees that this represents some seriously skeevy behavior, and the girls share a little bonding moment. Damn. Well, I guess that explains why Lauren Ambrose has stopped returning my calls. After the moment dissipates, Adriana says she has to go meet her mother, and Not Mare sends her on her way.
Down by the sea, Tony is still sleeping on the floor when Lawyer Bruce starts pounding on the door. Tony clambers up to let him in, and explains that "things aren't very good at home," and his boat is being refinished, so he decided to sleep there. Lawyer Bruce, who's been divorced three times himself, suggests meeting perfunctorily with all the top divorce lawyers in the area so they can't take Carmela on as a client. Then he tells Tony to check into a hotel, because he doesn't want to be liable if something happens before the sale is finalized. Oh, he's a real prince of guy, that Lawyer Bruce. Tony agrees, and shuffles off to find a shower.
Moments later, he's returning the favor by knocking on Lawyer Bruce's door, and he's greeted by Mrs. Lawyer Bruce, who also seems to favor the sweater-over-the-shoulders look. What is this, 1986? Are they wearing Izods and deck shoes? Will AJ start pegging his jeans? Tony, who's still dressed in yesterday's outfit, explains that given his marital troubles, he's decided not to buy the house. Lawyer Bruce is unsurprisingly obstinate, insisting that he and his "partners" have a signed contract, and the deal has to go through. Their bargaining is interrupted by Tony's cell phone, and once Tony leaves to answer it, Mrs. Lawyer Bruce gets all up in her husband's face. "That guy's a mobster!" she points out, but LB doesn't care. He's dealt with the mob before, over a copyright dispute that (believe it or not) somehow involved Enya. No, I don't understand it, either. Man, where's Hesh when you need him? Oh, that's right. And then, just to make sure we all understand that the money-grubbing lawyer is Jewish, Lawyer Bruce calls his wife "rabbi." Now that's some stereotyping shit.
Outside, Tony answers his phone and is told by Johnny Sack that Carmine is ready to make a deal over the Esplanade. "Are you kidding me?" wonders Tony. "Everything's in motion." "Welcome to my world," replies Johnny. By the way, there's still almost forty minutes left in the episode. Welcome to MY world.
Now we're in a park, where Tony and Christopher are meeting with Carmine and Johnny. Oddly enough, it seems they've decided to settle the Esplanade issue by having a contest to see who can dress the worst. Is it Tony, in his gray checked blazer with brown pants? Or Johnny, in his purple-on-purple jacket-and-shirt combo? Or how about Carmine, who's wearing puke-green linen? Actually, I think the medal goes to Christopher, who's wearing the ugliest top I've seen since Saskia Kupferberg's Sexually Ambiguous Sweater Of Death. And he's got it unbuttoned about halfway down as well, which really isn't helping things. I'm thinking the wardrobe department must have decided to empty out their closets in anticipation of the off-season. Anyway, I've got miles of recapping to go before I sleep, so I'll just say that Carmine expresses his condolences over Tony's marriage (I guess news travels really, really fast, seeing as how it's been less than twenty-four hours since the big fight), and everyone finally settles on a fifteen-percent fee to New York for Tony's HUD scams. Foreshadowing then prompts Carmine to remind Tony how helpful Little Carmine was in all this, and that Tony should remember that for the future. There's some facetious discussion about Carmine's health, and then hugs are exchanged all around.
Shut up, Meadow. Sorry. That was preemptive, because here she comes, walking down the steps in her pajamas. Remember how I said I appreciated Irina looking sexy while she was annoying? Here's the counterpoint. Even with the exposed midriff, Meadow just doesn't do it for me. I'm sure she's crushed. After grabbing a -- gasp! -- Snapple from the fridge, she sits down besides Carmela at the kitchen table, carefully rotates the bottle so that the label is visible, and proceeds to snot, "I used to feel so superior, because so many of my friends had these fucked-up divorced parents." Oh, whatever. She's so just using this as yet another excuse to skip school. After a few moments of conversation that almost seem tender for these two, Meadow asks her mother if Furio is the cause of all this. Yeah. As if. The cameraman who just pressed the button to zoom in on Carmela during that line got more action out of the "romance" plot than Furio did. Wuss. "I have never been unfaithful to your father," replies Carmela. "Daddy was," says Meadow, before sobbing, "Jesus! How could you eat shit from him for all those years?" and running out of the room. Oy. Second verse, same as the first: Shut up, Meadow.
Vesuvio. Tony eats alone. Artie comes over to offer his condolences about Carmela, and Tony responds by bitching about the quality of the pasta. Okay, that was rude, but I hate Artie, so I'm not really upset about it. Tony gets another call on his cell phone, and it's Johnny Sack again. "Things have a momentum of their own," suggests Johnny, making it clear that he still wants the hit to go through. "More is lost by indecision than wrong decision," answers Tony, suggesting that he's always willing to parrot phrases, even when he may not really know what they mean. After he hangs up, Christopher comes over to sit with him, so I guess the kid was in the bathroom or something this whole time. "We're not on for [the Carmine hit] no more, right?" he asks. "Wrong," replies Tony, which makes Chris smile with pride at how sneaky they're being.
Meanwhile, over at the Bing, Paulie is attempting to engage in damage control, while also affording the writers a brief opportunity to work him and Silvio in the final episode. Enjoy this scene while it lasts, people, because after this you're gonna have to buy Springsteen tickets to see them. "Johnny Sack," Paulie sighs. "I always worked very fuckin' hard to make him think I liked him. I'd try to feel him out about shit." Oh, so that's what you were doing. Okay. And if you believe that, Johnny's got a bridge he might want to sell you. Tony and Christopher arrive, and everyone is happy to hear that an agreement has finally been reached over the HUD deal. When Tony follows that up by complaining about his back, Silvio points out that the bed in rear of the pork store isn't really conducive to getting a good night's sleep. This prompts Paulie to suggest that Tony should get to keep the house, and Carmela should be the one out on the street. Everyone else smiles at his marital naiveté, and then Tony's cell phone rings yet again.
After cursing modern technology for a bit (which is a shout-out, because I just bought a cell phone of my own), he answers it to find Lawyer Bruce smarming things up on the other end. LB exposits that he's decided to let Tony off the hook as far as the house is concerned, but also informs him that he's going to be keeping the two-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit. This doesn't sit well with Tony, who threatens to buy the house and throw loud parties until late in the night. Lawyer Bruce reminds him that there's a paper trail to their agreement, so the cops will know just who to blame should anything happen to him. "You must think I'm a fucking thug," answers Tony, and LB slams down the phone after repeating that he's not releasing the deposit. Amazingly enough, by the way, Lawyer Bruce has a friggin' Heisman Trophy in his office, along with several other pieces of football memorabilia. Um, I thought this guy was supposed to be Jewish? I mean, really. Arafat and Sharon have a better chance of sneaking off to Vermont for a gay wedding than a Jew does of winning the Heisman. It just ain't gonna happen, people. And the prop guys apparently realized that halfway through, because there's a completely different statue in that place during the close-ups. Actually, now that I look closely, there's also a completely different street outside the window in those close-ups. Looks like somebody had to come back in for re-shoots.
Das Sopranohaus. Carmela putters around the kitchen, then suddenly gasps in shock when she catches sight of Tony's reflection in the window over the sink. He saunters over to the fridge, presumably hoping that everything will have blown over, but Carmela quickly intercepts him and slams the refrigerator door. For the umpteenth time, she demands that he leave the house, but this time Tony tries to apologize for everything that's happened. He even calls himself an "asshole" before trying again to raid the fridge. Carmela slams the door a second time and informs her husband that she's called a lawyer, and will get a restraining order if necessary. They argue some more, and Tony ends up grabbing her and shoving her against the counter. "Let go of me!" she demands. "Your son will be home. Do you want him to see his father like this?" "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" responds Tony, before adding that he has no intention of leaving his home. "I don't love you anymore!" shrieks Carmela. "I don't want you! You're not sleeping in my bed, Tony. The thought of it now makes me sick." He releases his grip on her arms, and with a huff turns to finally open the fridge and pull out his dinner. "Jesus Christ almighty, I'm going fucking crazy!" sobs Carmela as she bolts upstairs and slams the door. Tony just looks furious as he opens a package of lunch meat. I guess he should just be happy he didn't faint this time.
Later, AJ helps his dad remove the theater chairs Tony had installed in his media room. Despite the fact that there's, like, an acre of empty patio to the door, they carry the chairs all the way off the tile and onto the grass so that the writers can set up a reference for later in the episode. Once that's accomplished, Tony leads AJ back inside, and gives him a little grief for getting home so late on a school night. "From now on I'm gonna take a bigger hand in this shit," says Tony. "I'm gonna be right out here. And I want you to be extra respectful to your mother. She's going through a hard time right now." You know, because the best time to take a more active role in your child's life is after you've been exiled to live in the gazebo. After sending his son off to bed, Tony slumps down on the floor and starts to inflate an air mattress.
After tossing and turning for a few hours (which produces a humorous fart noise from the plastic mattress), Tony grabs his cell phone and calls Christopher. Chris is at home, working out in the living room while Adriana sips some wine and watches TV. There's apparently a whole fun story about how the show she's watching is very clever "fuck you" from David Chase to someone or other, but I'm way to tired to go traipsing through the forums to find it right now. So you can go look yourself. After snarking at his fiancée for drinking in front of him, Chris answers the phone to hear Tony call off the Carmine hit. "Our friend is very anxious to pass the ball, the prick," explains Tony, hinting that he thinks a Johnny Sack set-up might be in the works. He reminds Christopher once again to "make sure" the black guys don't talk, and we see Adriana looking pensive as she dumps her wine out in the sink.
Cut to a scenic riverside locale under a highway overpass. Chris waits alone until the black guys show up in their SUV, at which point he hands over a bag of cash, and also manages to resist their overtures to buy some more heroin. Then he gets in his car and drives away. As the hired hit men climb back into their own car, they debate whether Christopher has really quit, or if he's just "freshening up." Then, out of nowhere, Vinnie Delpino and an unknown thug appear and start emptying their guns into the black guys' car. One is killed instantly, but the other manages to stagger a few feet out of the car, thus enabling us to get a low-angle money shot of Vinnie standing over the body, firing his pistol. If you look closely, you can totally tell he's fantasizing about doing the exact same thing to Doogie. Vinnie grabs the bag of cash, and he and the unknown thug race back to their car. Meanwhile Christopher, who's been watching the whole thing from a few hundred feet away, smiles and drives off in his own car, which provides a clever little glimpse into the class differences between capos and soldiers (Chris drives what I think is a brand new Audi. Vinnie has a beat-up Honda Accord). Either way, the hit men are dead, and Chris no longer has a heroin connection.
Joss Whedon: Damn! It's about time you finally whacked someone. I'm falling asleep over here.
David Chase: Yeah, well, speaking of getting whacked…
Joss Whedon: I know! Can you believe those fuckers cancelled us?
David Chase: Hey, you mess with the Fox, you get the…I don't know, sharp, pointy little teeth or something. Maybe time you should pick a real network.
Joss Whedon: Yeah, well at least I know how to limit myself to NINE major characters per show.
David Chase: Yeah, and at least I'VE been NOMINATED for an Emmy!
Joss Whedon: Asshole.
David Chase: Cancellation monkey.
Joss Whedon: Cable snob.
David Chase: Space hooker.
A spiraling shot of the sun fades into an overhead shot of Tony, floating on a lime green raft in the middle of their pool. Oy. I'm not sure which is worse, the sight of Tony in a bathing suit, or trying to figure out why he's in the pool when AJ was just bitching about how cold it was outside like three episodes ago. ["That looked like an homage to The Graduate to me, for what it's worth." -- Sars] Whatever. Carmela comes outside to stand silently by the pool, and when Tony finally prompts her, she complains that the theater chairs are hurting the lawn. "Bad for the grass! Bad for the grass!" mocks Tony, in a high-pitched reference to Chinatown. Then he wonders if that's really the reason she came outside to talk to him. "Why do you have to make even this little thing so difficult?" she asks, symbolizing her anger at the course of most of their interactions. "What possible reason do you have for coming out here to talk me about theater seats except to bust my balls?" he answers, symbolizing his own anger at the course of most of their interactions. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think even Mike Binder has a healthier marriage than this. Carmela uses the F-word at this point, and Tony mocks her by saying it'll cost her three dollars as he climbs out of the pool. Seemingly resigned to their fate, Carmela sighs, and says, "What's done is done. We are where we are, and it's for the best. But just for the record, or it might even interest you to know that I might actually have gone on with your cheating and your bullshit if your attitude around here had been even the least bit loving." "Whose idea was Whitecaps?" he wonders, but Carmela believes that's just "a bigger version of an emerald ring," and a way for him to keep on with his "other life." What's interesting is that they're both right. Tony really did buy the house because he loves her, but Carmela still wants more than just possessions to prove his affections. "You don't know me at all," claims Tony, but Carmela has a snappy answer for that one, too: "I know you better than anybody, Tony. Even your friends. Which is probably why you hate me." Ooh, burn. Score one for the armchair psychiatrist. "Hate you?" smirks Tony. "Well, don't worry. I'm going to hell when I die. Nice thing to say to a person going into an MRI." And with that, he turns to walk inside.
Carmela follows him, looking apologetic as she explains that she's always regretted saying that. "You were my guy," she reminisces. "You were so sweet. Nobody could make me laugh like you." Now Tony is the one who's angry, and he wants to know where Carmela gets off pretending that she didn't know there were going to be women on the side. "Who the fuck did you think I was when you married me?" he asks. "You knew the deal…and you and I both know that the other boyfriend you were debating marrying was Jerry Tufi, with his father's snowplow business. And we now know that wouldn't have suited you at all." Carmela protests that she doesn't care about the material possessions (except, of course, for the Lladro. How could she not love the Lladro?), to which Tony sneers, "No, no, no, I forced all this shit on you. What you really crave is a little Hyundai and a simple gold heart on a chain." Angered by his coldness, or perhaps wounded by how close he is to the truth, Carmela decides to pull out the big guns. "For the last year," she confesses, "I have been dreaming, and fantasizing, and in love with Furio." Now that gets Tony's attention. But Carmela isn't finished: "Every morning when he'd come to pick you up, I would look forward to it all night long in bed, to you. Those nights when you were actually in the bed." And boy, I'll tell you, that zoom guy is getting a lot of action out of all this, because now we're closing in on Tony. And to think all Furio had to do to land his dream girl was just pull focus. Wuss. And as she keeps talking and talking, Tony gets angrier and angrier until he races across the room, his fist poised to strike. Carmela flinches in anticipation of the blow, but instead Tony punches a pretty big hole in the drywall as she dodges out of the way. "He'd talk to you?" he shouts. "Aw, poor you." And again with the parroting. Hmm. Now Tony takes his turn at explaining the extra-marital allure, as he finally gets around to answering Carmela's question about what Svetlana has that she doesn't. "She's sexy enough, even with the one pin gone," he explains, "but that's not it. I could converse with her because she had something to say!" "I am here!" responds Carmela. "I have things to say!" "Besides bring the fucking chairs down, and 'Did you sign the living trust?'!" Tony screams back, as they're now standing mere inches apart. He accuses her of doing nothing but sitting back for the last twenty years, fiddling with the air conditioning and bitching about everything to him and her priest. She in turn claims that he's the one who didn't want her to work, and acts surprised that all this time he wanted "Tracy and Hepburn." "But what about the thousand other fucking pigs you've had your dick in over the years?" she asks. "The strippers, the cocktail waitresses, the psychopathic Mercedes dealers? Were you best friends with them, too?" He doesn't answer, so she just calls him a "fucking hypocrite," and finally walks out of the scene.
Whew! Now, we could sit here all day and argue over who's right and who's wrong, and who's an asshole and who's a bitch, and I suppose it's that rich layer of texture that makes this such a great show, but let's face facts: there's still twenty minutes to go. So I'm gonna go soak my hands in Epsom salts for a while and leave you to discuss this amongst yourselves. Enjoy.
Right. I feel much better now. So anyway, welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends. It's time to wrap up the seasonal subplots, so let's start with Uncle Junior, as he anxiously awaits his verdict in the courtroom hallway. Janice and Bobby are there, along with Melvoin and a random old guy, and eventually a bailiff opens the door behind them. "We're so glad you could attend," he says. "Come inside, come inside." Well, okay, not really, but who can resist an Emerson, Lake, and Palmer reference? What's that? You say I'm the only one who can't? Somehow that doesn't surprise me.
What does surprise me, however, is actually catching a glimpse of Melfi in the season finale. Fittingly enough, she clocks in with precisely forty-eight seconds of screen time. Lorraine honey, call your agent. I'm betting Kiefer could use some therapy by now. She answers the phone in her office, but there's only silence on the other end. A brief cutaway lets us know that it's Tony who's calling, and he hangs up without saying a word. Melfi reaches for the phone and hits *69 (which, mark my words, is as close as these two will ever come to engaging in a sex act), but the number is blocked. She thinks for a moment, and then hangs up. Farewell, sweet Melfi. It's got to hurt to know that Chase thinks Artie and Cousin Brian are more interesting than you.
And now back to the trial, where -- surprise, surprise -- the jury is unable to reach a verdict. Snooze. The most interesting thing about this scene is that the closed captioning misspelled "Allen charge." Everyone congratulates Junior on his mistrial, and then Threatened Juror tries to make friends with SAG Card Juror on the way out of the courthouse. She shoots him down, and that, my friends, is that.
Das Sopranohaus Media Room. AJ comes in to find Tony watching The History Channel while Vinnie Delpino and Little Paulie drag his speakers out of the room. AJ steps around the air mattress to sit down beside his father, and then cracks me up by asking if he can move in there with Tony. Yeah, because there's so much room, and it's so far from his regular home. Doofus. Plus Tony is eating salsa straight out of the jar, so I'm betting the two of them would starve to death within a week. AJ explains that Mom has been extra hard on him lately, and he's tired of having to deal with her. Tony actually handles this pretty well, reminding AJ that his mom is having a tough time of things lately, and insisting that he not do anything to hurt her feelings. Then he hands the kid a few dollars and tells him to buy his mother a present. I certainly hope that by "buy his mother a present," Tony actually means "buy his little blonde hussy of a girlfriend a present, so you can try to get into her pants," because you totally know that's where the money is going. And while it was sweet of AJ to want to live with his father, I still think he's a doofus.
Junior's Joint. Everyone comes home from the courthouse wanting to celebrate, but Junior decides to just order a pizza and stay in for the night. He also laments the fact that Tony won't be coming over to join them, considering "what's going on up in that abattoir." Heh. Of course, with all the other places Tony has had to sleep this episode, a slaughterhouse might actually look good to him by now. As Junior settles down onto the couch and starts to fall asleep, Bobby and Janice giggle and kiss in the kitchen. Then they start singing Sonny and Cher. Then I gouge my eyes out and stomp on the fast-forward button, because it's not like anyone cares about these two anymore, right? Junior certainly doesn't, as evidenced by his ordering Bobby to run downstairs on an errand, specifically so that he won't have to listen to them sing. Janice gives her uncle a disappointed glance, and then Corrado and crew are done for the season.
Down at the shore, Vinnie and Little Paulie pull up in front of Lawyer Bruce's place in The Stugots. They set up Tony's speakers on the stern, and then we cut inside LB's house, where a dinner party is in progress. Suddenly Dean Martin starts blaring from the speakers, and Lawyer Bruce hops up to investigate. He checks out the boat, and notes the name, but still doesn't seem to realize that it belongs to Tony. He slams the porch doors shut in frustration, and everyone returns to their meal in silence.
Over at a deserted warehouse location that I'm fairly certain appeared in a movie I just saw but now can't remember the name of, Tony and Johnny Sack have gathered for a sit-down. After chatting about the trials and tribulations of marriage for a few minutes, they get down to business. Tony explains that he's decided not to kill Carmine, because "whacking a boss is bad for business." Johnny insists that they can weather the storm, but Tony turns to the camera to deliver a stern lecture to all the show's loyal viewers. "It's not just the internal upheaval," he explains. "Mr. and Mrs. John Q. America, by and large they sit still for our shit. So people get ripped off. They figure it's not them. But if it's the fucking OK Corral out there…" Yeah, yeah. We get it, David. They're murderers. We're not supposed to like them. But you know what? It's the repeated, incredibly arrogant insistence of everyone involved with this show that we're all too stupid to get that point because we actually like Tony that really pisses me off. I have yet to read a single interview with David Chase this season where he doesn't go out of his way to call his own fans morons for liking the violence, and there's apparently no criticism of his show's pacing and plotlines that can't be answered by simply saying that the critics are too bloodthirsty to see the true majesty of his vision. I'm not as down on this season as a lot of other people might be, but we're starting to verge on Sorkin territory here with the "holier than thou" attitude, and something needed to be said.
UPS Guy: Sign here, please.
Aaron: Another soapbox? What the hell am I gonna do with that?
Anyway, Johnny is not happy to hear that Tony won't be killing his boss. After ranting and raving about how much he hates taking orders from Carmine and that "disgusting, fucking, cocksucking idiot son of his," Johnny also rails against Tony for leaving him "holding [his] cock," and wonders how they'll ever be able to trust each other again. "I still consider you a dear, dear friend," says Tony, but Johnny has nothing to say in response. Hmm. Looks like someone might be a wee bit pissed off by the time season rolls around, if you ask me. Which I'm actually looking forward to, because Vincent Curatola rocks. He's definitely the best new cast member not named Pants they've ever added.
Back at Chez Soprano, Carmela is -- get this -- grating cheese. Damn, that's harsh. Funny, but harsh. Tony shuffles in carrying a duffel bag, and apologetically says that he's just there to pick up a few things. He checks the refrigerator out of sheer force of habit, but doesn't seem to find anything. He then calls AJ over from the living room so that he can make a family announcement. "I've been thinking about things," he says. "Me living out there. And I've decided it's probably not a good idea." Meadow comes downstairs at this point, and Tony makes things official by announcing that he's moving out of the media room. AJ asks if it's because he wanted to move out there with him, and Tony gently but firmly assures him that it wasn't. Carmela, however, is not at all happy to hear that AJ wanted to go with his father. Meanwhile, Meadow, who's looked incredibly nervous this whole time, pipes up to suggest that he and Carmela go back into counseling as she and AJ pile onto their father for a group hug. Carmela tries to make things better by promising that everyone will come to visit once Tony gets his own place, but the kids are already in tears, and nothing seems to help. AJ quietly asks if it's possible that they could still get back together, and Tony says yes, albeit without much conviction.
Upstairs, Meadow sits alone in her room, and has a "Shut up, Meadow" moment of her own as she thinks back to all the times she was rude to her parents. Tony is wearing a robe in the flashback, meaning this episode has established a new record with an StR score of 4,043. Given that the average episode is only 3,500 seconds long, I'm guessing that's a record that will never be broken. Unless, of course, David Chase decides to punish me for calling him arrogant with a two-hour season premiere in September. And for the record, Meadow absolutely does NOT kill herself here. That guy is smoking crack.
Over in the grown-ups' bedroom, Tony is packing up his clothes. Carmela breaks the awkward silence by admonishing him to be careful, and he grunts that he'll be staying at the Plaza on his way out the door. And then Carmela and AJ stand silently at the front of the house, watching as Tony drives away from their home, perhaps for the last time ever.
But instead of ending his season on a dramatic, if somewhat depressing note, David Chase elects to wrap things up by returning to Lawyer Bruce and his wife, as they sit on their porch and bicker over how to handle the music blasting from Tony's boat. Mrs. Lawyer Bruce demands that her husband refund the deposit, and complains that nothing they can do will stop Tony otherwise. Eventually she stalks inside, and Lawyer Bruce follows shortly thereafter. And as we fade to black, we're left to ponder: Is this supposed to symbolize once again the public's docile reaction to the show's mob violence? Or are we supposed to appreciate the fact that Tony and Carmela have separated, rather than constantly nagging each other like these two do? Or perhaps we're just supposed to enjoy the dulcet tones of good ol' Dino, as he sings us out of another Sopranos season. No matter what the case, we'll certainly have plenty of time to think things over.
And that's it, kids. After eighteen months of waiting and thirteen weeks of watching, it's all finally over. But before I go, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least thank you all for a wonderful experience this season. We've laughed together. We've cried together. We've mocked consumer-grade porcelain figurines. We've analyzed. We've speculated. We've had everyone from Adriana to Artie leading our dead pools. Some of you have sent gifts. Some of you have caused me to beat my head against the monitor in frustration. Many of you fell for the "I'm fired" joke for the second time in as many years. We've taunted the Wingnuts. We've gotten shout-outs in Birds of Prey recaps. We've bitched. We've pissed. We've moaned. We've praised. We've pontificated. We've quoted Milton and Mick Jagger, and been quoted ourselves in Slate and The New York Times. And now that it's over, we're finally forced to go our separate ways. Some will watch Oz, and some will watch Alias. Some will buy DVDs, and some will sleep in on Sundays (well, I'LL sleep in on Sundays, at least). But before you all go, just know that I've loved spending these weeks with you, and more importantly, know that deep down, no matter what she may say in public, Sars really does have a little bit of a thing for me.
Sars: Un. Fucking. Believable.
Aaron: That's gonna cost you three dollars, you know.
Sars: You honestly think I have a thing for you?
Aaron: Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm fired, right?
Sars: Nope. I've got something MUCH worse planned for you.
Aaron: It doesn't involve whale sperm, does it?
Sars: Actually, it's entirely possible that it could.
Aaron: Oh? Oh! No!
Sars: Oh, yes.
Aaron: No!!!
Sars: I said yes.
Aaron: You wouldn't!
Sars: I most certainly would. You, my friend, are going to Oz!
Aaron: But…but…
Sars: No buts about it. Well, okay, some butts, but nevertheless, it's a done deal.
Aaron: Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!
Sars: Wuss.