By Aaron
We open at Livia's house, where Tony and Diet Tony have run an immense string of extension cords out through a window so that they can watch baseball in the back yard on a crappy, non-cable-connected, nineteen-inch TV. Oy. That's just sad. Tony is sprawled out in a lawn chair, sporting knee-length shorts, a wife-beater, and a damp washcloth on his head. Looking snazzy! He also spurns Diet Tony's offer of the last "Super Nacho," because they've been sitting for too long and "the cheese is all sweaty." Yeah. So says the fat guy with the tank top and the wet washcloth on his head. Diet Tony tells a story about an unidentified "crazy Rasta fuck" he knew in jail who used to make grilled cheese using two sheets of paper and the radiator. Are we supposed to be impressed by that? Because in Oz they would have turned two sheets of paper and a radiator into fourteen shivs, an unguarded storage closet, and a papier-mâché dildo. When Diet Tony gets up to fetch another beer, Fat Tony can't help noticing the limp his cousin picked up last week. "What did you do to your foot?" he asks. "Gout," replies Diet Tony. Oh, wait. That's just me. Instead, he blames it on "a couple of black guys" who jumped him outside of a bar and did nothing but stomp on his toes a few times. "With half of them locked up making grilled cheese, you wouldn't think there'd be so many around to make trouble," cracks Tony, with an assist from Foreshadowing Uncle Irony. And then he refuses Diet Tony's offer of fresh-out- of-the-microwave Super Nachos because he has dinner in the city later that night. Hmm. Do you think "Super Nachos" should count as our first hint of gay foreshadowing?
Dinner in the city. It's Tony, AJ, Meadow, and Finn, and they're enjoying some light chit-chat about AJ's plans for summer school. Finn claims he did summer school once, which doesn't really surprise me, and Meadow snots that "Carmela" will probably have AJ locked down in his pod for a "maximum security summer." That doesn't surprise me either. Sigh. Shut up, Meadow. Finn excuses himself, and Tony warns his kids to cut their mother a break because "she's the one holding this family together during this current situation and all." Except for the part where she kicked him out of the house and filed for divorce, that is. Tony then calls for the check, but is told that Finn has already taken care of it. Uh oh. Even Meadow knows that was a bad idea. You'll note that she didn't warn her boyfriend, though. The kid returns to the table, saying, "I figured since you're always so generous I should reciprocate." "You're lucky you don't get your head handed to you," replies Tony. (I linked that one for you because the preview monkeys would have us all believe that the Pants pate will be making a return appearance week.) He's way more pissed about Finn paying than seems reasonable, even for Tony, and he gets up in a huff and throws a wad of cash down on the table. AJ just shrugs like this happens pretty much happens every single time they go out, and follows his dad to the door. Heh. Meadow, however, is definitely her mother's daughter, and advises Finn to keep the money.
Outside, the kids mill around under the shadow of -- I kid you not -- a giant plastic cow that's been mounted over the restaurant's door. And with that, the location scouts have officially overtaken the background video clip-pickers as my new all-time favorite Sopranos production department. Plus it's also good to know that the giant Indian will now be able to enjoy a nice, juicy, giant hamburger while drinking his giant bottle of beer. Tony finally emerges, and pulls Finn off to one side. He apologizes for "biting [his] head off," and adds that he thinks Finn is a good kid and that he "respects his trying." As for me, I respect the giant cow. Mooooooooooo!
"And then he fell asleep right after," gossips Carmela to Mrs. Little Stevie. Heh. She also reveals that Tony called and sent flowers after he did the walk of shame out of their bedroom last week. Which was sweet, but not as sweet as the diamonds he usually sends after a one-night stand. Mrs. Little Stevie asks if Carmela thinks Tony might want to get back together, and while Carmela's mouth may say "this is the last thing [she needs] to get into right now," her eyes practically scream, "Please God, yes!" In fact, Tony will be dropping AJ off at any moment, and Carmela is all set to discuss things with him. Ever the refined, consummately dignified diplomat, Mrs. Little Stevie knows that's her cue to disappear gracefully. "You two should talk," she whispers. "Let me just pee." Oops.
Carmela moves to the front door, which any loyal viewer already knows has been the scene of countless broken hearts for her. And yep, here's another one. Instead of coming in to beg forgiveness, drop off an envelope filled with cash, make sweet, sweet swimming-pool love, and then leave immediately to go work out for three hours and have another therapy session, Tony actually just waves and smiles from the driver's seat of his Escalade, and then backs out of the driveway. Carmela takes this like a slap to her reconciliation-friendly face, and immediately heads back inside to grill her son about Tony's motives. AJ explains that dad was feeling "tired," (which, in Tony-speak, translates to "clueless about romance"), although Dad did tell AJ to give her an envelope filled with cash and a "kiss on the cheek." Well, one-and-a-half out of five ain't bad, I guess. Although AJ does actually neglect to pay up on the kiss, but that's probably just because of the truly ginormous lip zit that Robert Iler is sporting in this scene. That thing looks like it could affect the tides. "Thank God," sighs Carmela, "because the last thing I needed was to talk to him." She doesn't really believe that, though. And neither does Mrs. Little Stevie.
Tony and Johnny Sack are hitting the links, and surprisingly, that phrase has nothing to do with sausage. "You know who loved golf?" asks Johnny. "Joey Peeps, may he rest in peace." "Yeah, it's sad when they go young like that," snarks Tony. Heh. Johnny isn't laughing, though. He knows that Little Carmine was behind the hit, because Carmine was fucking the late Lorraine the Loan Shark, and also knew that Peeps was Sack's special protégé. Oy. You know, sometimes I go back reread the words that I type in these recaps, and just can't believe what they're saying. I mean, "Peeps was Sack's special protégé"? In the entire history of the English language, those twenty-seven letters have probably never been arranged even once in that order before today. Tony counsels patience in the matter, and asks if Sack's contacts on the police force have turned up any leads. And they have: some homeless guy saw the killer limping away from the scene. As soon as he hears this, Tony turns away to hide his shock. He tries to hit his shot, but an onrushing panic attack overcomes him and he ends up slicing it into the trees. Johnny wanders off to find own ball, blathering that Ginny will bawl at the funeral because Joey used to send her a ninety-pound coffee-cake every Christmas, but Tony has already fainted and collapsed back on the tee. It's probably worth noting that Johnny's immediate reaction is one of genuine concern. He helps Tony to his feet and, along with some random golfers, carries Tony over to a bench. He does not, however, bother to put out his cigarette before doing it. Johnny blames Tony's collapse on the rapidly changing weather patterns, and wisely ignores the Random Golfer's suggestion that they "get some electrolytes in him." They finally get Tony settled on the bench, and Gandolfini does an excellent job of looking confused and frightened.
Little Carmine, meanwhile, has gathered his crew for a cabinet meeting in an undisclosed location that's presumably somewhere in his house on LONG ISLAND. So please, stop emailing me. "The point I am trying to illustrate," opens Little Carmine, "is that, of course no one wants all-out conflict, but historically, historical changes have come out of war." Hee hee. Frankie Valli eggs him on, calling it "a new day" and declaring that "all old treaties and ways of doing things are null and void." Angelo, however, is more concerned about the potential backlash from the Joey Peeps hit. "When you've had a quadruple bypass like I did," replies Frankie, "it gives you a lot of time to think." Huh? That statement is completely irrelevant and has nothing whatsoever to do with the question Angelo just asked him, but the reasoning behind mentioning the bypass will become apparent in just a few brief moments. Angelo isn't exactly persuaded by this non sequitur, and wistfully sighs that they should have had a sit-down with all the other captains. "This isn't the UN," replies Carmine. "I won't let what happened to my father happen to me." So does that mean he'll be avoiding gherkins? Because I've heard they can cause strokes. Frankie, meanwhile, strokes Carmine by calling him a "stronger man" than his dad, and Little Carmine's response is such a gem that it simply must be transcribed in its entirety: "The fundamental question is, will I be as effective as a boss like my dad was? And I will be, even more so. But until I am, it's going to be hard to verify that I think I'm more effective." Bwah! Now that's a classic. And by the way, yes, David, we get it. Little Carmine is obviously intended to echo our syntactically-challenged, paternally-obsessed President, and Frankie Valli is Dick Cheney, and Angelo is Colin Powell, and that greasy-looking guy with the pony tail is presumably the illicit, uber-hawk love spawn of Donald Rumsfeld and Condoleezza Rice, and the bear is Saddam Hussein, and New Jersey is Najaf, and the Giant Wooden Indian is John Kerry, and AJ's eyebrows are the working man, and Wide Guy is Monica Lewinsky, and I'm fairly certain that one part where Finn pisses into the camera for five minutes straight was really nothing more than a thinly-veiled allegory about federal corruption and the Tennessee Valley Authority. Nevertheless, great fucking scene.
Finn and Meadow are at their apartment. Oy. I can already tell this is going to be a tough episode. It's fifty-six commercial-free minutes long, and at least thirty of those minutes are filled with either Meadow and Finn or Tony and Melfi, neither of which ever makes for easy recapping. In other words, shut up Meadow. Finn is all upset because his parents won't offer him any "economic relief," and yet he still hasn't bothered to, oh, I don't know, GET A JOB, because "in this economy...even the crappiest McJobs aren't there." Besides, he "wouldn't want to take away a job a minority could have," which is so perfectly liberal and patronizing that it totally deserves a place in the Accurate College Student Dialogue Hall of Fame, assuming such an institution actually exists. The crappy wall-unit air conditioner Finn and Meadow have starts grinding and hissing, but they can't open a window because "the garbage [outside] reeks." Finn, ever the olfactory genius, opens one anyway. He also bitches about life in the big city, and off-handedly suggests that Meadow could go back to New Jersey and "sleep in comfort." "Is that what you want?" asks Meadow. You know, it's still early in the episode, but I can already tell that Finn is just as clueless about romance as Tony is. He then wonders aloud if he maybe shouldn't go back home to California and get a job working as an assistant to some guy he knows who takes photographs for magazine ads. "Is that what you want?" asks Meadow. Sigh. Finn says no, but does allow that working with "models" might be "interesting." Un huh. He also thinks he could make a career in photography, because the pictures he won a prize for in high school were once described as "solidly unsentimental." And he thinks that was a compliment? For her part, Meadow can't believe that Finn's blowing off "dental school" to be a photographer when he complains every time she asks him to take a picture of her and her friends. Yeah, well, I'd complain too if I kept being asked to immortalize the visage of Hunter Scangarelo. There's some discussion about the possibility of her transferring to UCLA and moving to California with him, but I think we all know that's not going to happen, because it's totally Meadow who wears the pants in this relationship. And also the shirts, and the socks, and the shoes, and the hats, and the jackets, and even the watches and most of the jewelry. Realizing that nothing is going to be resolved, Finn suggests that they catch a late movie, mostly for the air conditioning. But then they can't decide what to see, and argue about it for like ten billion years, and I honestly can't believe I'm still recapping this scene. Shut up, Meadow.
Das Sopranohaus. Carmela gets a call from some mustachioed divorce lawyer, but he's really only calling to pass on some bad news: he can't take her case because Tony came in for a brief consultation last year, which means that helping her would put him in "a bit of an ethical soup." Wow. I've actually had ethical soup. It's fantastic with matzoh balls. Anyway, Carmela can't understand why Tony is so picky about his legal representation, because he must have met with "seven or eight of the top divorce attorneys in New Jersey." "Well, you can probably figure that maneuver out for yourself," replies the sleaze-stache. He recommends the name of an "uncontaminated" colleague, although personally, I was totally hoping Carmela would hire Melvoin. Now that would be comedy gold. Once Carmela hangs up, we cut outside for a very quick shot of our old friend the unidentified black bear. I can only assume he's still back there searching for his weapons of mass destruction.
Bada Bing. All the boys are hanging out in the back room. Most of them are playing cards, but Silvio is playing pool with Christopher, and discoursing on the death of Joey Peeps. He reports that the cops apparently found brains all over the seat (but not, sadly, cum on the sun visor). "Joey Peeps?" laughs Paulie. "Couldn't have been too much to clean up." Everyone chuckles dutifully, and then Little Paulie adds, "I heard the hooker he was with got it in the chest. Silicone everywhere." "Why you always trying to top me?" bitches Paulie. "You took the air right out of my whole fucking punchline, asshole." Hmm. Shout-out? It is my job, you know. And, aww. Poor Little Paulie. Everyone's so pissed off at him this week. Which isn't all that surprising, I suppose, considering the fate of pretty much everyone else on this show with the word "little" in their name. Acting in his longtime role as Official Crew Mother, Silvio suggests that they all kick in to buy Joey's headstone, and everyone solemnly agrees. What's funny is that they've even got their own "marble guy" on call. That says something, I think. Eventually, Fat Tony and Even Fatter Tony (Siragusa) arrive, and Fat Tony immediately asks to speak with Diet Tony outside. Jesus Christ. Shut up, Tony.
Hmm. I just noticed that there's a place down the street from the Bing called "Party Box." And before the New Jersey people wage yet another email campaign, yes, I know that's not a strip club. But it should be. Fat Tony angrily announces that there was a witness to the Peeps hit, and that everyone now knows the guy who did it has a bad limp. Undeterred by this revelation (and his obvious gimpiness), Diet Tony suggests "Long John Silver" as a possible perpetrator, which I thought was a really lousy choice for a one-legged man joke until I tried to think of a better one, and failed miserably. Then again, typing "famous people with one leg" into Google did return some very interesting results. I don't recommend trying it from work, though. "Where the fuck do you get the balls?" bitches Tony. "I am bending over backwards trying to stay neutral, paying for fucking car seats, and you're out there acting like a fucking free agent!" Diet Tony gives him that hangdog look that Steve Buscemi specializes in, and Fat Tony soon softens significantly. He admits that Diet Tony probably isn't earning what he expected, especially given that he's taking care of the twins and Nancy, not to mention sexing up half of Sesame Street. "You're a capable guy," he adds. "Your mother let it slip one time, you got an IQ of 158." Wow. A Google search on famous peoples' IQs reveals that Diet Tony is smarter than Richard Nixon, Paul Hogan, Madonna, and Koko the Gorilla, but dumber than Leonardo Da Vinci, Bill Gates, Napoleon, Plato, Gandhi, and -- believe it or not -- Marilyn Monroe. I wonder if this means I should start calling him Little Lord Smartypants. "A lot of good it did me," he sighs, but Fat Tony just reiterates how useful all those brains and balls could be to his organization. "Put me in, Coach," answers Diet Tony. "I'm ready to play. Today." Fat Tony considers this for a minute, and then offers his less corpulent cousin control of a casino that's located above a hardware store over on Bloomfield Avenue. He also offers to try to get him "straightened out" by "opening up the books" for him, which apparently means getting him made. They share a manly hug, and...scene.
"So I solved a major problem, business-wise," Tony gloats to Melfi. "Put a very good piece of manpower to work." He's apparently already told her all about Diet Tony, including the infamous "Tony Uncle Al" anecdote, although he does manage to break at least some new ground by also revealing the news about Little Lord Smartypants's high IQ. "Do you put a lot of stock into that number?" asks Melfi. "Why?" wonders Tony. "Are you going to tell me it's bullshit?" Dude. Paul Hogan, Madonna, and Marilyn Monroe made the Top Ten list. That answers the "bullshit" question pretty definitely, if you ask me. Melfi parries this by asking if it's safe to assume that Fat Tony thinks Diet Tony is smarter than Fat Tony is. "Honestly," replies Tony. "I think he's smarter than you, the way you keep shitting on the test." Heh. Even Melfi cracks a "yeah, right" smile at that one. Tony then smiles himself for a completely different reason, and changes the subject by announcing that he slept with Carmela. "It was nice," he explains. Very...erotic." And I suppose it was, in a highly-chlorinated, Patsy Parisi's piss sort of way. But then Tony has to spoil it by adding, "Poor thing was starved for it, honestly. I'm the only man she's ever been with." Oh, the irony. Oh, the Bovary. Melfi tries to delve deeper into what all this might mean, but they're interrupted by Tony's cell phone, and he actually answers the call and tells her to wait. Melfi looks shocked, and I kind of was too, because the only other time I can remember him taking a call during a session was during the "busy season" of football gambling. This one, however, is obviously about a different topic altogether, because Tony's side of the conversation consists of him complaining that he's got "fax machines coming out of [his] ass." Now that's an irritable bowel.
While Tony meets with his therapist, Carmela meets with her new divorce lawyer. When asked if she would describe the separation as amicable, she instead describes it as "barely civil." And not at all erotic, I guess. That's good enough for Lawyer Guy, who turns back to the paperwork and says that he'll review their tax returns and investments to start working on an agreement. "I'm a little concerned that the returns don't really reflect everything," confesses Carmela. "There is other income." "Unreported income?" gasps Lawyer Guy, in a tone of ridiculously indignant shock that you or I might reserve for questions like "He molested how many children?" or "You do know that's on network television, right?" He then tries to determine whether this evil unreported income is derived from an "illegal stream," but Carmela just falls back on the old "carting business" cover story. Lawyer Guy tells Carmela all about some forensic accountant he hired to go after a vending-machine magnate, and promises that they'll soon get to the bottom of Tony's financial situation. In my own imagination, by the way, I like to pretend that the "forensic accountant" is actually Gil Grissom's thinner and significantly less bearded cousin Gil, who secretly covets Gil Uncle Moonves's insect collection and has an ambiguously perverted/paternal relationship with Liam the Lab Tech. But that's just me.
Finn's Flat. Meadow comes home to find her boyfriend snoozing on the sofa, and cheerfully informs him that Daddy has gotten him a job working construction. And not only that, said job also pays twenty dollars an hour, and no experience is required. "Holy shit!" gushes Finn. "But how is that even possible?"
Asked and answered. We cut to the construction site, where the boys (Wide Guy, Thin Guy, Little Paulie, Patsy Peesy, Vinnie Delpino, and Guy I Don't Recognize) are hanging out, lazily chatting about baseball while Finn carries bricks from one pile to another. He butts in on their baseball conversation to praise the Padres, but I couldn't possibly care less about baseball, so I'll just mention that the only strictly relevant part of the discussion is when Wide Guy mentions his wife again, just so we'll all remember that he's married. And besides, Paulie just showed up, which means we're finally getting to the good part. "Hey, Shaggy," he shouts to Finn. "Grab a bucket and some Lysol and scrub off my tires. There's fucking dog shit all over by the engines." Heh. "Shaggy." Finn looks confused, as is his wont, but reluctantly gives in after Paulie threatens to knock his teeth out and yells at the foreman to mind his own business. Hmm. So let's see, this season has now had multiple references to bears, blowjobs, apples, Jackie Gleason, shaven pubic hair, and people forcing other people to clean up animal excrement. I have absolutely no idea what all those things have in common, but they probably would make for one hell of a party, don't you think? Once Finn has gone, Little Paulie takes it upon himself to reveal that the boy is dating Meadow, and Paulie immediately changes his spots. But not his wings, of course, especially now that Little Paulie is fulfilling his genetic destiny by sporting some alopecia of his own. Big Paulie immediately runs over to Finn, and tells him not to worry about the dog shit. Then he stuffs some money in the kid's pants pocket (not that there's anything wrong with that), and orders him to take Meadow out for a night on the town and tell her that it's all courtesy of "Uncle Paulie." You know, for a guy who's so afraid of pissing, shitting, and fucking, Paulie certainly does do a lot of ass kissing. Oh, and can you guess who finally gets stuck with the dog shit detail? Yep, it's Little Paulie. Man, it is just not his week.
Vesuvio. Carmela waits sullenly by herself at a table, until Tony finally arrives and apologizes for being late. "So," he asks, "to what do I owe this pleasure?" Oy. He totally thinks she wants to get back together. "I don't know if you're going to see it that way," replies Carmela. "I have asked you to lunch to tell you that I'm filing for divorce." Dun dun DUH! And, of course, Artie chooses this precise moment to join them and smugly joke that he hopes they brought their appetites. Yeah. Because everyone else lost theirs after having to listen to this asshole. Tony sends him away, and then accuses Carmela of ambushing him in a public place so that he won't be able to make a scene. And then he reminds her that they're Italian, which means they believe in "the nuclear family" instead of divorce. Except the only things "nuclear" about the Soprano family are AJ's radioactive farts. Carmela: "Despite your best efforts, I have an attorney who is going to aggressively pursue my custody of AJ, and also an equitable distribution of our assets." They key word here, obviously, is "assets," and Tony immediately jumps on her for making this all about the money. "After all we've been through," snarls Carmela, "is it so hard to own up to anything beyond that bullshit tax return?" Before Tony can answer, however, Artie is back. Only this time, he doesn't even get to say anything before Tony growls, "Go stand over there, and I'll call you when I'm ready." Oh, yeah. Now that's the good stuff. It wasn't quite as much fun as watching Artie get his ass kicked, but in an episode filled to the brim with Meadow and Finn, it's probably more than I could have hoped for. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Tony reminds Carmela about the forty grand she stole out of the duck food, but that's not good enough for her. "You want this to get ugly?" she asks. "Because these guys live for that." "You think I don't?" he answers. He gets up to leave, but quickly circles back for the last word: "The only reason you have anything is because of my fucking sweat. And you knew every step of the way exactly how it works. But you walk around that fucking mansion in your $500 shoes and diamond rings, and you act like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. And you don't want it to get ugly. Too late." Carmela: "I want what I'm entitled to." "You're entitled to shit," he replies. Then he looks up at Artie, announces that Carmela's ready to order, and stomps out of the restaurant. Well, that went about as well as could be expected.
Back at the construction site, Finn is enjoying an altogether different sort of lunch with the cute secretary who works there. I don't know the actress's name, but she's exactly what would have happened if Katie Holmes had been born in Puerto Rico. And Finn certainly seems to think she's got "It," that's for damn sure. First he claims that he and Meadow merely "get along," even though she likes to "zig" while he likes to "zag." Then he leans over to check out Katie's thong. Ahh. God bless HD DVRs. Rewind, rewatch. Rewind, rewatch. Katie Casas asks Finn what he thinks of Tony, and also mentions that his future father-in-law is always flirting whenever he stops by. She doesn't look like she minds that too much, though. She also wants to know whether Finn plans on marrying Meadow anytime soon, but he says that they already live together, which is basically the same thing. "Un uh," replies Katie. "I lived with a guy once, and trust me, it's not even close to being the same thing. You're stuck with a giant forehead around the house all the damn time, and you don't even get a tax break or anything." Okay, not really. Instead she just says that when you're living together, "you can just pack up and leave whenever the shit hits the fan. Talk to married people. That ring, believe it or not, it's got this kind of, like, weird power." Hmm. Would that be the power to cover the lands of Middle Earth in darkness, or the power to stave off angry, gay, morbidly-obese mobsters? I only ask because the question will seem highly relevant in about twenty minutes. ["As a married person, let me field this one: Both." -- Wing Chun] Or possibly twenty seconds, because here comes Wide Guy, gloating that the Cubs gave the Padres "a shellacking." Now is that an official baseball term? He also calls Finn "Phineas," thus giving Finn the opportunity to clarify for us all that his name actually is Finn, and not Phin, Fin, Phen-Fen, Fink, or Finders-Keepers, Fellators Weepers. Wide Guy, by the way? Is carrying one of those tiny little portable fans. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Turning to Katie, Wide Guy announces that he thinks Finn looks like Joe Perry of Aerosmith, but not, thankfully, like Joe Penny of Riptide, who was once yet another of Carmela's unrequited crushes. Wide Guy waddles off to chat with the boss, and Finn observes that he seems like a nice guy. Then he asks Katie if she's dating anyone. For the sake of my own sanity, I'll leave it up to you to insert your own Pacey joke here.
Carmela and Meadow, meanwhile, have fallen into the Gap. Or, more likely, a trendier, ritzier, more expensive version of the Gap where they sell leopard-print khakis and Bad Idea jeans. Why? Because talking to Meadow is ALWAYS a bad idea. Case in point: when Carmela reveals that she's planning on going forward with the divorce, Meadow replies by asking if she's ever thought beyond "being dependent on some man." Um, wouldn't filing for divorce be a very precise indicator that she has, in fact, thought beyond being dependent on a man? You know the words, people, so sing it with me: Shut up, Meadow. "It's so simple for you, isn't it?" snarks Carmela. "It's simple for everybody who isn't expecting things to be handed to them," replies Meadow. "Even Finn got a job working construction." Wow. There are just so many things wrong with that sentence that if I tried to start talking about them, we'd all still be here until the season finale. So instead, I'll just repeat myself. Shut up, Meadow. "There are options in life," Meadow snots. "Isn't that what you always told me?" "You have options," answers Carmela. "I have a lawyer." And a recapper. I've got your back, Carmela!
Job site. Phil Leotardo and his new Joey Peeps Replacement Goon show up, prompting this remarkable observation from Wide Guy: "Of course, now he comes. As soon as the Jersey tomatoes are in season, you can't keep these New York guys away." You know, I've often heard Sars voice that exact complaint. Of course, she also likes to put a phone book on my chest and shoot me through it every now and then, so it's really a shout-out in more ways than one. Fortunately for Sars, I would think, Phil is more interested in making his weekly pick-up, whereas his Joey Peeps Replacement Goon (introduced as his brother Billy, a.k.a. the guy who shot Lorraine the Loan Shark WITHOUT the benefit of the yellow pages) is more interested in skimming some cases of toner from the foreman's office so that he can sell them out of his trunk. True story: I work in a call center, and an Italian co-worker once called me over to the trunk of his Lincoln Continental and asked if I'd be interested in using company funds to buy three dozen telephone headsets at 20% below retail. I declined, but I have to admit that if he'd been selling toner, I might have jumped on it. My work printer sucks. Anyway, once the Leotardos leave, the boys quickly resume their daily bullshit session. This time, the conversation consists mainly of mocking the various hirsuteness levels of their respective girlfriends. Vinnie Delpino's is said to have sideburns, whereas Little Paulie's has a full-on mustache. "Must have been like kissing a fireman," jokes Thin Guy. "You ought to know, sweetie," answers Little Paulie, with the requisite faux-lisp. Note, by the way, the portentous shot of Wide Guy we get here, as he attempts to gauge Thin Guy's response to these allegations of homosexuality. That response comes almost immediately, as Thin Guy gets up, pretends to be heading off cheerfully to take a piss, and then smashes his bottle of -- what else? -- Snapple right into Little Paulie's face. Both Finn and Katie Casas react with horror, but the boys just go right on laughing, including Wide Guy, who says the he "knew that was coming." I'll assume the pun there was unintentional. Or was it? Thin Guy continues to administer a pretty severe beatdown, which actually causes Finn to lean over and throw up. Wuss. The boys finally manage to drag Thin Guy away from the bloody and bruised Little Paulie, and it's only now that he starts to worry about what might happen if "one of these civilians calls the cops." "Don't worry," replies Wide Guy. "I think I seen a couple of [racial epithet deleted]s running that way." In other words, unidentified black males did it. Katie does her best to tend to Finn, but I have a hard time believing that a girl who has appeared to be more than comfortable around the mob guys so far would still be impressed with a guy who pukes at the first sign of blood. Then again, we'll probably find out week that she's been dating Furio on the side.
Back at his apartment, Finn is telling the story to a disbelieving Meadow. "[Thin Guy]?" she exclaims. "He's so sweet!" Finn: "Sweet? He was like an animal! A really thin, homophobic animal!" Meadow, however, is more interested in whether Finn plans on eating the dinner she's cooked. It's chili, incidentally, which seems like a somewhat questionable choice when they're both sweltering in the non-air conditioned heat. I'd have expected her to go with the icebox cake again, myself. And unlike most of the people in the forums, I don't have a hard time at all believing that Meadow would cook. She's totally the type to take a lot of pride in being a quote/unquote "successful modern woman" who can still manage to get in touch with her inner Martha Stewart. I'd also bet that chili probably tastes like it was cooked in Wide Guy's armpit. Finn reluctantly caves in and takes a few bites, but he just can't let the violence go. "Is this what you grew up with?" he wonders. "I never saw one bit of violence growing up," insists Meadow. "What about your dad's road rage?" he asks. Heh. Tony does wreck his car a lot. Once a season, in fact, if I'm not mistaken. But Finn isn't finished. "And didn't you tell me once you had a boyfriend who was killed? Shot to death or something?" "First of all, he was killed by drug dealers," she tells him. "African-Americans, if it makes you feel better." Would those be unidentified African-Americans? And yeah, deep down, Meadow probably does know the truth (although not the specifics, or she'd be a bit more worried about Wide Guy), but this isn't the first time she's toed the family line with respect to the Little Lord, and I doubt it will be the last. But she's still Meadow, so she still has to make me want to tell her to shut up: "You know, you talk about these guys like it's an anthropology class. The truth is, they bring certain modes of conflict resolution from all the way back in the old country...where all higher authority was corrupt." Oh, yeah. Of course. I totally remember from my old European History classes about how all conflicts back in ancient Rome were settled with the ceremonial smashing of a Snapple bottle. And then everyone got into their horse-drawn Escalades, and fired up their Apple PowerPapyruses and munched on Snackwells biscotti. Shut up, Meadow.
And now we come to Joey Peep's funeral, which has turned out just about every single member of the New York and New Jersey families. The only surprising absence is Father Intintola, seeing as how he's presided over every other funeral so far this season. I guess his authority must end at the state line. A slow, downward pan takes us from the preacher to the headstone, which simply says "Peeps" in giant granite letters. Hee! Tony can't believe what he's seeing. "'Peeps'?" he gripes to Silvio. "It's a fucking nickname. The family name is Pepparelli." Silvio rolls his eyes, like he knows he fucked up, but still tries to blame it on the fact that the marble guy is dyslexic. Heh. Oh, Little Stevie. You can mug me anytime. A quick montage shows us the reactions of our other major players: Johnny Sack looks alternately sad and furious, Little Carmine looks like he's trying to remember what letter comes after Q in the alphabet, and the New Jersey guys are all shuffling their feet and checking their watches. Well, except for Diet Tony. He's only shuffling one foot.
Once the service ends, Fat Tony races over to apologize to Johnny Sack for the headstone mistake. Johnny, however, has other concerns on his mind. It seems a new witness has come forward, who positively identified Diet Tony as having been in the neighborhood when Joey Peeps got whacked. Johnny starts yelling at Tony, which prompts questioning looks from most of the other mourners, but Tony points out that if anyone deserves Johnny's ire, it would be Little Carmine. Then he suggests that they find a quiet place to talk, because nothing spoils a good funeral like some guy loudly promising to kill half the guests. Trust me. I know.
Tony and Johnny Sack retire to a nearby limousine, where Tony once again advises Johnny to just shake Little Carmine's hand and put the whole mess behind them. He also defends Diet Tony: "You are sincerely mistaken if you think me or my cousin had anything to do with any of this shit." I'm assuming that by "mistaken," he actually means "100% correct," but that's a different story. Tony also claims that the witness who spotted Diet Tony is an unreliable drunken Irishman (though not an unidentified black male), and expresses genuine shock that Johnny would believe a guy like that over a paragon of honesty and integrity like Tony Soprano.
Meanwhile, out in the rain, the New York and New Jersey crews wait for their bosses and make painfully awkward small talk. It's two lines, and maybe ten seconds total, but it's also the funniest scene of the entire episode. You really had to see it, though.
In the limo, Johnny has managed to calm himself a little. "Maybe I'm wrong," says Tony, "but you haven't been yourself since the old man died. Lorraine [the Loan Shark]? And then you sink this idiot's boat? That's not the Johnny Sack I know." Yeah. Because Johnny's always been such a big, cuddly teddy bear. Unless someone mentions his wife's ass, that is. Then Fat Tony spins a giant yarn about how Diet Tony couldn't have whacked Peeps because he was with Fat Tony on a quest to find his mythical...er, "missing" daughter Kelly. "We were upstate," Tony explains. "Monticello. We heard Kelly was living with some fucking crackhead up there." Okay, two things: 1) Tony continues the show's fascination with butchering the names of famous landmarks by pronouncing "Monticello" as "Monty Sello," and 2) my spell-checker keeps wanting to capitalize the word "crackhead" because of my old arch-nemesis Crackhead Cosby. "I swear on my mother," announces Johnny, choking back tears, "if I find out you're lying...." Tony just looks him right in the eye and promises that he's here "humbling" himself out of friendship, and nothing more. Johnny just lets out a hefty sigh, and then climbs out of the limo without saying another word. He does, however, cast a long, angry glance at Diet Tony, who is standing off to one side, completely oblivious. It's never made clear, but I guess we're supposed to assume that Johnny never saw him limping, or there's no way he would have fallen for Tony's bullshit. It's this whole funeral sequence, incidentally, along with the ones of the boys hanging out at the job site, that really lets this episode remind me of makes this show great. It's not the just the writing, and the acting, and the incredible technical craftsmanship, because that stuff is always there, and you sort of take it for granted after a while. But what this episode, and the entire fifth season for that matter, has done really well is balance the mob stories with the family stories in a way that was sorely lacking last year. I don't need to see someone get whacked every week, and I don't want to see Tony and Carmela turn into one-note caricatures who just go through the same old motions, but you can always tell when this show starts taking itself too seriously, because it's the mob stuff that suffers. That said, any episode that gives us Paulie talking about dog shit AND Carmela crying at the sight of Tony in the pool is an A+ plus indeed.
Back to the show. Finn is at work, studiously trying to avoid getting into any more conversations with the boys. Thin Guy, however, calls him over to settle a bet: "If they fought, both in their prime, Ali or Tyson?" Finn claims he doesn't know, which is total bullshit, because even people who think Tyson is chicken and Ali is just part of the Marco Polo-esque "Olly, Olly Oxen Free" know the correct answer to that one. It's Muhammad Ali all the way. Unless Tyson bites him. "To tell you the truth," Finn adds, "after the other day, I really don't want to say the wrong thing." Heh. What a wuss. Note to David Chase: it's okay to take characters we don't like and make them wusses. That's why we don't like them. Wide Guy finally manages to convince Finn to stop worrying and join the gang for a nice relaxing afternoon, mostly by pointing out that they have "the good donuts" today. Hmm. Donuts? Looks like Snackwells forgot to send their product placement check. Finn finally relents, and settles down for a nice afternoon nap. Wide Guy, on the other hand, just sits back and luxuriates in the calming breeze generated by his tiny little electric hand-fan. Hee!
Hey look! It's Christopher and Adriana! I missed their big episode this season, so now I feel like I haven't seen them in forever. Chris is still ranting and raving that Tony doesn't respect him, and Adriana is still dressed in a lace bustier and giant hoop earrings, so it's good to know that some things never change. Which, incidentally, is a major part of Christopher's frozen-Snickers fueled rant: "Ever since I cleaned up, no matter what he says, Tony doesn't think a person can change. And this guy went to a shrink." He's mostly pissed, however, that Diet Tony got the casino job, and is probably going to get made as well. That tidbit, incidentally, pricks Adriana's ears right up. She then suggests that maybe Tony just thinks Christopher is working too hard, to which Chris replies: "I can multi-task. I'm not a fucking retard." Heh. I'm guessing he means that he's totally capable of shooting up both heroin AND Tony's car at the same time. He goes on ranting for like another ten minutes about how he's not the #1 cousin anymore, but the real kicker to the scene comes later, when Adriana calls up Agent Sans Serif to spill all the gossip she's just learned. Agent Serif takes the call in her car, where we also discover that she's got herself a young daughter. Wow. Can no one tell the truth on this show?
Later that night, Finn meets Meadow and a bunch of their friends out on a beach, where they're having a bonfire, getting drunk, and generally acting like the pretentious twenty-somethings they obviously are. Finn sadly complains that he has to leave, because he has to be at work in three hours and hasn't gotten any sleep. He also decides to sleep at the site, because it doesn't make any sense to drive all the way back to the apartment first.
So we fade to Finn arriving at the site, where he spots a security guard sitting in his truck in the parking lot. And then, like the white whale cresting a giant wave, Wide Guy's head suddenly rises into the frame, and millions of viewers across America all gasped "Holy shit!" in unison. To be honest, we probably should have seen this coming, considering all of the hints they've dropped this season, but I have to admit I was completely shocked. Especially because Thin Guy always seemed like a much likelier prospect. Nevertheless, kudos should go to Chase and company for making it through five seasons and still being able to pull surprises like this out of their asses. Er, so to speak.
A few hours later, Finn is taking a leak in one of the porta-potties on the site. Then he zips up and opens the door to find Wide Guy standing there waiting for him. Heh. Now Wide Guy will always be Wide Guy to me, but for one week only, I'm going to respect the fact that this episode generated more posts to the nickname thread than any other in history, and credit all you creative kids out there with a few well-deserved TMs. So, to that end, Wide Gay (tm Chico1002) gleefully observes that Finn "sounded like a race horse pissing in there." Heh. Come-on, or threat? You be the judge. Then he asks Finn's last name, which is DeTrolio. "Finn DeTrolio," laughs Vito Corleblown (tm the appropriately-named Cannoli Lover), "my arch-nemesis." Finn doesn't know what to make of that, and gets even more scared when The Goodfellator (tm Luban) praises his work ethic and the fact that he comes in so early. "You're strong," Wide Bi Guy (tm unknown -- email me and I'll get you week) adds. "That's good." He also lets his eyes run up and down Finn's body on that line, causing Finn to give an extra little shudder. "You know you can call me [Viblow], right?" he asks (tm Navin). "So let me hear you say it. Let me hear you say, 'What's up, [Rodfather]?'" (tm unknown again). Finn reluctantly complies, and does indeed ask his arch-nemesis what's up. "Not much," is the answer. "Except I got a little surprise for you. Two tickets to see your Padres take a beating from the Yankees." Hmm. Perhaps not the surprise Finn was expecting. Although I'm sure I can't be the only one who thinks the operative words in that sentence were "take a beating." Oh, but wait, there's more! It's also bat night. Hee hee. Now that's an interesting mental image. Finn tries to weasel out of going with a lame excuse, but Wide Gay isn't willing to take no for an answer. "Don't pull that 'aw, shucks' shit with me," he growls. "You're fucking going." Paulie's arrival at the site cuts this conversation short, but Wide Bi Guy has one last warning: "I'll see you under the bat tonight, 7 sharp. And I don't like to miss the national anthem." Well of course he doesn't. If this scene has taught us anything, it's that you never know what you might see by the dawn's early light.
Cut to Finn, watching the game on the TV in his apartment. Meadow can't believe he didn't want to go to the stadium, especially because Finn loves baseball so much. "I don't like the guy, all right?" he explains. Oh, please. Everyone loves Wide Guy. Some more than others to be sure, but everyone still loves him. "Oh, I get it," snarks Meadow. "Dr. DeTrolio can't hang with the common folk." Shut up, Meadow. That's the last straw for Finn, and he decides to try going with the truth instead: "He came on to me, all right? Either that or he wants to kill me." Oh, Finn. Everyone's always gay with you. You know what? Maybe you're gay. You ever think of that? Um...yeah. Sometimes I forget they can't hear me. Meadow can't believe what she's hearing herself, especially because Wide Guy is supposedly a happily married man. "I seriously doubt he wants to kill you," she adds. "Well, maybe he wants to fuck me and then kill me," replies Finn. Heh. And personally, I think Wide Guy would have been fine with either outcome. Hell, I think he might have even taken Finn's word that he would keep his mouth shut. Er, so to speak. But by not even showing up for the game, Finn has pretty much sealed his death warrant at this point. Unless, of course, he can think of a clever way out this situation. Let's see what happens, shall we?
Meadow interrupts their argument about Wide Guy to start a new argument about their relationship when she notices that Finn has taken his suitcase out of the closet. Er, so to speak. Again. He insists that he's never going back to the construction site, but all Meadow can worry about is the grief she's going to get from Daddy because he had to pull a lot of strings to get Finn the job in the first place. Shut up, Meadow. Here's all you need to know about the rest of this scene: They fight. And then they fight some more. And after that? They fight. They fight, they fight, they fight, they fight, they fight. He Gift Thy. The Fig Thy. Tom Has Every Yellow Flower In Gardens He's Tended. Tall Hairy Elephants Yield Fantastic Ivory Growing Huge Tusks. Yeah. In other words, they fight. Ooh! You know what else happens in this scene? They fight. Sigh. Shut up, fight. Seeing as how I'm contractually obligated to provide you with details, I'll try to be more specific. Meadow accuses Finn of using all of this as an excuse to justify not committing. Finn insists that they're still living together, and that the suitcase just represents "his process." "I was thinking out loud," he claims. "Well, not out loud, but in the action of getting out the suitcase, I was thinking." Meadow: "Thinking of leaving!" Finn: "No! Well, yes. But I'm still here, I didn't go...There was no abundant intentionality in me getting out the suitcase." Oh, man. I love the writers of this episode almost as much as I love my HD DVR. I'm actually giggling over a scene that features Meadow shouting and whining. If that doesn't deserve a fifteen-dollar Emmy, I don't know what does. Shut up, The West Wing. Meadow threatens to leave as well, reminding him that she can go visit Hunter up in Montreal any time she wants. Finn, however, is more interested in Hunter's "French roommate guy," who was hitting on Meadow the last time they all went out. "He's thinking of becoming an oral surgeon," she sobs. "You might have had a new friend if you hadn't been so obnoxious to him at the club!" Yeah, whatever. I think Finn has made plenty of new friends this week, don't you? "Can we just stop fighting?" he begs, demonstrating that he's almost as tired of this scene as I am. "You got out a suitcase!" whines Meadow, for the fifth time in as many minutes. As noted in the forums, the real surprising revelation in this episode seems to be that Meadow was apparently traumatized by some Samsonite when she was a little girl.
Out at Yankee stadium, meanwhile, Mobby Dick (tm unknown again -- this is what happens when the episode thread has forty pages) is finally realizing that he's been stood up. The fact that he's dressed in his finest Yankee regalia would seem to indicate that Wide Guy wasn't planning any violence for the evening. Or, at the very least, that he wasn't planning anything that might cause arterial splatter. He does look quite angry when he's forced to head inside alone, though. Especially because he missed the national anthem. You know, because if there's anyone who could make Yankee pinstripes into "broad stripes," it's Wide Guy.
Back to Meadow and Finn. A clock tells us that it's 4:22 in the morning, and guess who won't shut up? Finn has moved on from discussing "abundant intentionality" to talking about the fact that this point in their lives "is a transition period, forced on [them] by external events." He doesn't know if they'll be able to stay together through graduate school and everything else, but he is happy that they still have the choice of breaking up now. "What? You'd rather not have choices?" he asks. "Thank God for choices." Man, I wish I had choices right now. Shut up, Meadow. She asks if they're going to stay together, and he says it's up to her. Then she whines some more, and he commits the ultimate sin of falling asleep right in the middle of their fight. Heh. That's one way to shut her up, I guess. "Are you asleep?" she shouts. "You were! And now you're going to lie about it like you did about the suitcase." She just can't let the luggage go, can she? Here's all you need to know about the rest of this scene: Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Shut. Up. Meadow. Shut shut shut. Up up up. Meadow Meadow Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. A dupe hums two. At pod we humus. Was dump he out. Seeing Her Unreasonable Tantrums Usually Perturbs Me, Especially At Deadline. Oh, Well. In other words: Shut up, Meadow. You know what? They're still fighting. And...still fighting. Anyone want to join me for a refreshing snack? Oh, all right. Fine. Meadow bursts into tears, and goes running off to lock herself in the bathroom. Finn massages his temples and tries in vain to wish himself straight to California. Then he gets up, and begs through the bathroom door for her to stop crying. Surprisingly, that actually works, and she emerges from the bathroom and joins him back on the bed. Obviously at his wit's end (which probably wasn't a very lengthy trip), Finn makes what will likely be the biggest mistake of his life by asking, "Why don't we just get married?" Uh oh. "Really?" wonders Meadow. "Why are you saying that?" Finn, of course, has the most romantic answer possible to that question: "I can't think. It's too late. It's just something I feel very strongly." Yeah. Just what every girl longs to hear.
You know what else every girl longs to hear? Her divorce lawyer, calling to say that he can't take her case because he's afraid of her husband. And yet that's exactly what happens to Carmela, and it causes her to throw a full bag of groceries down onto the ground.
Tony, meanwhile, is back in Melfi's office, sadly complaining that when he woke up this morning, his depression was suddenly back full-force. Melfi suggests that this might be because of the divorce, but Tony thinks it comes from somewhere else. He tells her about the golf-course panic attack, and also reveals that it's not the first time he's had an attack recently. "I wish you'd told me," Melfi says. "I wish you'd cured it," he replies. He then traces the origin of the recent attacks back to when she "rebuffed [his] advances," but further questioning reveals that they really began when his cleaning lady was talking about her cousin, who was in a car accident down in Mexico. And then the one occurred when Cousin Tony came over to borrow some power tools. "Your cousin was at your house?" asks Melfi. "Tony Uncle...whatever?" "Uncle AL," snaps Tony Uncle Johnny. Heh. Melfi puts two and two together and gets Tony, which prompts Fat Tony to realize that his cousin was also involved in the golf-course attack, as well. "He hurt his foot," he explains. Melfi has a hard time believing that Tony was so concerned about Diet Tony's foot that it caused a panic attack. "He's a grown man, isn't he?" she wonders. "Is he in danger of losing the foot?" Hee! "Oh, fuck the foot!" shouts Tony. "It's not his foot! Forget the foot! I worry about him, he's right out of fucking jail, okay?" This, of course, provides a natural segue for him to tell Melfi all about the night of the hijacking. "Why didn't you go?" she asks, when the story is over. "I was jumped by a bunch of [racial epithet deleted]s," he says. "They were trying to take my shoes. I fought them off, by they cut my fucking head open, the cocksucking, motherfucking [seventeen or so racial epithets deleted]s." "Your cousin went to prison," observes Melfi. "That's tremendous guilt to carry." "He went to 'Nam," adds Tony. "I was 4-F. And that's the way our friends look at it...Those seventeen years I did so good. He lost his wife, his daughter...."
Tony is obviously struggling with something profound, because it looks like he's about to have another attack. Melfi calls him on it, and Tony finally explodes with the truth: "The night he got pinched I had a fucking panic attack, all right? From my mother, goddammit. I didn't even know what it was then." Melfi tries to get him to focus and calm down, and eventually, his breathing almost returns to normal. "Black guys," he sighs. "My ass. I had a fight with my mother, and I had a fucking panic attack. Carmela was supposed to come over with some fucking yarn, for some booties my mother was making Meadow. She was late...[Livia] was carrying on. I said to her, 'Carmela loves you. You gotta understand, she's got a three-month-old.' But she kept fucking...she kept going, and I started screaming at her. So I left. I walked out to the door, went over to the car, and boom. I cut my fucking head open." Hmm. Obviously I knew there was more to the whole "Where was Tony that night?" story, but I never would have guessed a panic attack. After the Fran Felstein episode, I just assumed he was with a girlfriend. And yet, there he was, defending Carmela and passing out because of it. Interesting. "And your cousin doesn't know this?" asks Melfi. Tony: "No! I lied! What am I going to tell him? What am I going to tell all of them? I had a fight with my mother and I fainted? That's why I missed the job? Jesus fucking Christ!" "That's a lot to get of your chest," Melfi whispers, much to the delight of the promo monkeys. "I thought I was smart," complains Tony, "and that's why I bumped him up and protected him. Turns out, I'm just a fucking robot to own pussy-ass weakness." Well, who isn't, really? And now that the psychic weight has been lifted from his shoulders, Tony is finally able to indulge in some of that patented introspection we all know and love. "You know, sometimes what happens in here is like taking a shit," he observes. "I prefer to think of it more like childbirth," replies Melfi. "Trust me," he tells her. "It's like taking a shit."
And lastly, we wrap things up back at Das Sopranohaus. Carmela returns home to find Tony's car in the driveway, and Tony himself lazing around in the pool. Deciding to ignore him, she heads up to the bedroom, where she answers a call from Meadow. "Mom! I'm engaged," gushes the daughter. "What?" replies Mom. "Are you sure? I mean...this is wonderful, honey, I'm just so surprised." And on the second viewing, she also appears to be a lot less enthusiastic than I originally had thought. Not so much because she doesn't like Finn, or thinks they're making a mistake, but mostly just because she's so soured on the idea of marriage at this point that she'd think even Ross and Rachel's wedding would be a bad idea. She continues to chatter to Meadow about their school plans and the engagement party, but all the while she's watching Tony through the window. Meadow tells her that Finn is using his graduation money to buy the ring, and that actually starts Carmela crying, which is why I initially thought she was happy. It's the romantic gesture that gets her, not the thought of the inevitable messy divorce. And as Meadow glows, and Carmela cries, and Tony splashes himself in the pool, we fade to black on one of the best episodes this show has ever had.
Just in case that's not enough for you, by the way, the closing credits play on both the Meadow and Finn story and the prominent role the construction site had in this episode by featuring the song "If I Was a Carpenter." I think we can all hear Christopher singing "...and you were a douchebag," right? Yeah. See you week.
Oh, and one more thing: Shut up, Meadow.