By Miss Parker
Woke up this morning, birds tweeting, sun is shining, and thought, what a lovely day to buy firearms. Or not.
College madness has begun. Mr. Token Ethnic Representative from Brown University speaks to a classroom of bored students and over-attentive parents, of whom Carmela is the most mesmerized. I have the feeling Carmela wasn't exactly a good girl when she was in high school, but she is certainly making up for it now with her snooty nose in the air. If Mr. Token Ethnic Representative asked the class any questions, I'm certain her hand would shoot up into the air and she'd strain not to utter, "Ooh, ooh, I know, I know!" Meadow, looking very Desperately Seeking Susan with all her bangles, twirls her hair and gives her best impression of a girl not on her way to college but rather the nearest Dairy Queen. Eric Scatino manages to appear eager yet comatose, and Dad (Davey) Scatino looks like he's strung out; he rudely gets up in the middle of Mr. Token Ethnic Representative's speech about getting "academic and extracurricular ducks in a row" to go take a leak. Cut to Tony doing the same. Number one, that is. Ew. I just hit the pause button, and it's stopped on Tony whipping it out. Ew again. Tony and Davey make small urinal talk. Tony says he saw Davey's wife alone and figured him for the "trotters," meaning the racetrack, I suppose. Davey starts mush-mouthing about a customer he couldn't shake who took half an hour to decide between a $20 soccer ball and a $22 soccer ball. Blah blah retail. Davey asks what Tony thinks, assumedly about the college reps. Tony says he thinks the guy from Bowdoin was making some sense. "No, I mean the game tonight," he says, and Tony sticks his bottom lip out as far as it goes in taken-abackness. So do I, since I have no idea what they're talking about so far. Miss Parker's three guesses: sports, hunting, Scrabble? Although men usually make no sense when their Mr. Happys are taking the air.
Artie jauntily enters and asks if they'd "like to be alone" with a dirty-little-man grin. Ha. I just love jokes lifted from The Man Show. Davey says he knew Artie would be lurking around somewhere, from the looks of the refreshment table. Artie says he doesn't know how he always gets roped into catering these things. Tony comes over to the mirror to Artie, and I notice there's a terrible comb-over incident happening on his head. He offers that Charmaine, the Bucco family pants-wearer, is no fool; one of their sfogliatelle in the right mouth and their daughter can go to any school she wants. Artie groans that so far only the janitor is eating the aforementioned pastry used for bribery. "That's a nice career path for a young lady," Tony says smartly. Yeah, whatever; you're in waste management. Davey laughs as he continues his never-ending pee. Tony says he's going to go eat one of "them belly bombs," which I take it is a joke at Artie's expense, because Artie jibes back, "Have I said fuck you yet?" This exchange makes me get down on my knees and thank God I'm not a proud owner of a Mr. Happy. Just going to the bathroom is socially exhausting. Artie is serving up platters of delicious Italian pastries. I love Krispy Kremes and Rice Krispie bars as much as the guy, but Italian pastry is the nummiest. Yes, I said nummiest. Maybe it's better because Italians never use the word "crispy" with a "k" to name their desserts. Davey compliments Artie by telling him he's glad he didn't eat dinner; Artie says cattily that it's nice to be appreciated by your friends, shoots daggers at Tony, and stalks off. Tony calls him the "sensitive chef." Do you two want to be alone? Ha ha ha, hee hee hee. It's funny when I say it.
Meadow and Eric slither over to their dads. Meadow looks stoned. Actually, she always has that sleepy-eyed stoned look. It must be the heavy eye make-up. Eric asks his dad for twenty bucks. The dads play dad as they groan over their kids' ungratefulness. "What, did you think he was coming over here to say gee dad, thanks for taking the time to come to this important event?" Meadow sniggers as she and Tony snuggle. Blech. Tony asks how Eric's doing. In my opinion, not good. He looks like a lemon-colored leftover from The Wonder Years or the evil twin of Eric Forman on That 70s Show. Ew. Davey, mouth full, tells him he should eat. Eric informs him that he and Meadow are going to Starbucks. Somehow he makes it sound like an extremely repellent place. Tony inquires after his college plans, asking if he's planning to go to Brown. Eric says it's a good school in such a blasé way I get the urge to slap him, and then he laments over the "starfucking" that goes on there. I think you'd fuck some stars if you got the chance, Eric, if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge. Davey calls him a "Latrine Lip," which sends me into giggly convulsions, and indicates Meadow, as if to say "there's a lady present." Yeah, some lady. "He's right," Miss Meadow chimes in, and pushes away Tony's arm, which I assume was trying to cover her ears from the profanity of men. Let's just assume that. It looks weird, like he was harassing her or something. "This jamoke will still go wherever his mother tells him, he's no different than his old man," Davey says. "You too?" Artie yelps, because he thinks he's found someone as whipped as himself. Tony bemoans the evolution of his friends, telling the kids that in high school Artie and Davey were like Joe Namath and Y.A. Tittle, and now they're like Phil Donahue and Alan Alda. Artie looks very sheepish. Yes, he means you, Artie; Charmaine has your balls in a vice. Of course, you'd look sheepish too if someone called you Phil Donahue. Or Tittle, for that matter.
Tony and Davey, walking together down a very eerily-lit school hallway. I'm expecting zombie teenagers to leap out at them from classroom doorways any time now. Davey tells him he heard through the grapevine that Tony's taking over his uncle's game, the "big one." Ah hah! I smell gambling. I knew it couldn't be a clandestine high-stakes game of Uno. Tony is almost amused at Davey's use of "the grapevine," and sagely answers, "You know if you listen close to that song, it says believe none of what you hear and half of what you see." Davey hems and haws and hums and says he just likes "to play a little." Oh Jesus. He's gonna owe big money by the end of this episode, I can see it now. In fact, I could see it now if I wanted. On tape and in my head. I've seen it before! Hee. Anyway, Tony tells him this game is not for him. Davey hems and haws and hums, says "naw" a billion times and that it'd just be a "kick." Yes, I like to be in debt to gangsters for fun as well. But only on the weekends, when I'm feeling really wacky! Tony sees he must speak slowly and enunciate for this schmuck, because he's not getting it. He tells Davey he's a nice guy and he likes him, he could get hurt, and to trust him -- "this game is not for you." Davey comes back with "You know how many jock straps I sold last week?" Funny, but that's not enough for this game, stupid. "Come on, let's go see what the Wayo from Bucknell's gotta say." I could guess "Wayo" is some sort of racial slur, but fortunately I don't know what it means. But Davey was the evil cyborg in Terminator 2. I just had to mention that. ["He's also in The X-Files now." -- Sars]
Melfi's office. Aerial shot of Melfi looking very sixties with much too flippy hair. Tony is all gut in a paisley number as he slouches in his chair. "Do you wanna tell me what you're thinking?" Tony rolls his eyes and sighs, "Believe me, you don't wanna know." She eggs him on with her smartypants look as she drapes herself all over her chair in her beige sweater set. Way too much leg, Jennifer. "You wanta know what I'm thinking? Seriously? I'm thinking I'd like to take a brick and smash your fucking face into fucking hamburger." "Okay," Melfi responds, with a face that indicates she just wet herself. Tony feels bad and takes it back, saying she shouldn't worry, he knows he broke her coffee table before and it's not going to happen again. "But you'd like to smash my face," Melfi pouts. "Not really, it's just a way of describing how I'm feeling," Tony explains, but Melfi is hurt. "Do you think making hamburger out of me would make you feel better?" Tony launches into a speech about why she won't let it go, and is it a woman thing, and he's just telling her how he feels and now she's going to torture him with it, and he doesn't even know why he asked to come back into therapy with her. "I got the world by the balls and I can't stop feeling like I'm a fucking loser" is his punchline. Melfi perks up at this. Eureka, Oedipus! "Who makes you feel like a loser, your mother?" Tony doesn't plan on talking about Livia right now, and tells Melfi they've "wasted enough oxygen on that one." Everything and everybody is bothering him. "I see some guy walking down the street, you know, with a clear head. You know the type, he's always fuckin' whistlin like the happy fuckin' wanderer. And I just want to go up to him and I just want to rip his throat open, I just want to fuckin' grab him right there and pummel him for no reason. Why should I give a shit if a guy's got a clear head? I should say 'ah salut', good for you.'" Jesus -- Tony's got issues, but Melfi doesn't seem to be listening. "Let's get back to smashing my face," she says with a snotty sneer. Miss Parker chuckles, but shares Tony's exasperation. Tony slides down in his chair and releases an AARGH! noise. "No, I think it all ties in!" she screeches desperately. Tony cuts to the chase: "All right, sometimes I resent you making me a victim, that's all." He starts blathering on about the kind of strong silent type of men he admires, like Gary Cooper. I like to take them out for a nice meal, have a little too much to drink, and then...never mind. He didn't say that. I'm just tired of this scene and want it to end -- the whole happy-wanderer theme is annoying. I don't enjoy envisioning Tony in lederhosen. He goes on to whine and complain and confess about how all Americans whine and complain and confess. He calls them pussies. I loathe that term. It's right up there with that c-word that means the same thing. "And now I'm one of them. A patient," he goes on, saying "patient" in a fake girly whiny way. Somehow Melfi finds it pertinent to express the thought, "Your parents made it impossible for you to experience joy," at that moment. Tony's incredulous, so Melfi backs herself up and continues, "You said yourself you're not the Happy Wanderer." "Well, I'm more like one of them assholes than the fucking jerkoffs and douchebags I see leaving this office," Tony replies, and Melfi's body language sing-songs na-nanny-boo-boo at him. Progress? I think not.
Low-stakes card game. Richie, Artie, Davey, some white-haired grandpa dude, and a fat guy are all wearing the latest fashions from the polyester striped-shirt store at the Paramus Mall. Artie has a cigar sticking out of his mouth and looks like Popeye as he wins a hand and gives thanks to Santa Maria. "More like Santa Claus," Richie snaps. Artie tosses a chip to a player and quips, "Make sure you spend it in my restaurant, you prick." Clever. Fat dude at the table says, "One chip? Va'Napola, you can't even buy McDonald's with that." Artie leaves the game, because if he doesn't cash out, Charmaine will "have his balls on the menu tomorrow." Yuck. There's way too much talk about Artie's balls and Charmaine's involvement with them. Horizontally challenged dude's name is Vito, by the way. I find this out because Davey is in the process of begging Richie to lend him more money so he can continue playing, and he claims that Vito will stay in the game. Vito agrees: "Where do I gotta be? Let's up the ante." Richie reminds Davey that he owes him $7,000 already. Davey gets cocky and says, "Is that all? I'll make that back from Vito in a hour." Let's just take a wild stab at fortune-telling and guess that Davey does exactly the opposite and loses it all. Gamblers Anonymous, anyone? Richie falls for it, however, and gives the chooch another dime. Not ten cents, mind you. A dime is probably $1,000. ["I think it's more like $10,000." -- Sars]
School auditorium. Probably the most atrociously painted room I've ever seen. The walls are covered with scary geometric shapes in a seventies primary-color palette. Eric and Meadow sing some soggy pukey song from Miss Saigon. Eric is gazing at Meadow, back to the audience, as she sings facing the audience. Weird. Is he hot for her and she's oblivious or something? Maybe John C. Hensley has a big zit. Meanwhile, Meadow's nasal voice grates on me. They sound fine for high-schoolers, though. But Unnaturally Blonde Teacher, with a lame treble-clef pin on her jacket, grimaces and tells them they have their work cut out for them. Bitch. Meadow slumps off. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher calls out some Nordic giant of a girl named Güdren, who starts singing in German with her teeth gritted. Blech. High-school talent shows are so cheesy. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher goes over to Meadow while Güdren is singing, which I thought was rude, and says it's "really sounding pretty good" and she "knows Meadow is disappointed." Meadow, looking like a tan Joan Crawford with painted moonbeam-shaped eyebrows so larger than life that they dance off her face and start their own HBO original series, starts sniveling that she wanted to do a solo. Unnaturally Blonde Teacher starts sniveling about how she wanted to give everyone a shot at solos, and it's their last chance for cabaret since they're seniors. Miss Meadow will not be guilt-tripped. "Miss Gaetano, I was a sophomore when I did Spider Woman. Now it's important because of college and all." Unnaturally Blonde Miss Gaetano's face is all "Well excuse me, Miss Vanessa Williams." Ah, showbiz.
Close-up of Junior's feet, complete with security ankle device, dangling from a doctor's examining table. Tony is inquiring as to whether Junior is okay with him taking over his executive game. Junior reminds him that he doesn't have a choice: "You know I'm under fuckin' house arrest, you cute fuck." Tony makes a beeline for the scale and weighs himself. Not so fast, Fats Waller. "Well then take the bite I give you and be happy. Either way, I'm having the executive game," Tony responds. Junior starts reminiscing, telling Tony that he and Johnny Boy started that game over thirty years ago. He compares their game to credit-card companies' idea that they don't care what you buy as long as you didn't pay it all off at once -- they make their money off of the interest, or "juice." Tony, meanwhile, has figured out he's overweight and is busy looking worried and patting his tummy. Junior mutters that Johnny "was one keen motherfucker." He looks mean all of a sudden, baring his dentures like a pit bull. Tony retorts that if he was so keen, why did he leave them with "chi-chi beans?" Meaning nothing in the way of money, my own keen intellect deduces. Junior says he doesn't know what he's talking about with an evil chuckle. "Your father left Livia with a fucking package that could choke a fucking elephant! I gotta tell you? She's like a woman with a Virginia ham under her arm, crying the blues 'cause she has no bread." Well, well, well. Livia's loaded and didn't say a word. we'll find out she's really a man and works for the CIA or something. Junior starts being all mysterious about Johnny paying the freight for someone named Erkle (hee hee -- "Erkle"); he's all forget it, water under the bridge, you think you know everything, some people are so far behind they actually think they're leading, et cetera, and Tony's completely clueless. He gives up prodding and starts to leave, but Junior tells him his name was Hercules -- he was their middle brother, he was retarded and lived in a charity home his whole life. This takes a minute for Tony to process, so Junior calls him sharp as a cue ball. He pontificates about how it was different in those days, that their mother and father couldn't even speak English, that they couldn't take care of him. When Tony acknowledges he was retarded, Junior tells him to go fuck himself -- he was just slow. "Strong as a bull and handsome like George Raft. If it was today they would have trained him to be a whatever, a something. Got him a job. They didn't understand these things back then." This is actually pretty depressing and sad. The guy spent his whole life in a home, and today he could have had a pretty "normal" life. Ah well. Progress, I suppose. "Jesus, what were we thinking," Junior sighs guiltily. Tony is utterly shocked. Then I notice there's a poster of the vascular and visceral systems behind him. It looks like Slim Goodbody -- remember him? He always wore his insides on the outside, painted on a unitard. Ew. Now that I remember that, it seems a bit perverted. In a unitard. Naked. With children. EW. Well, that distracted me from my lament over the treatment of the mentally challenged for a minute. Back to Tony and Junior. Tony remembers arguments Livia had with Johnny about his "feeble-minded brother," but he always thought she meant Junior. Hee hee at Junior's expense. Junior glares at him, and Tony asks when he died. Not long before Johnny Boy. Junior is tired of talking about the past, so he changes the subject back to the executive game and asks what his cut will be. Tony furrows his brow and looks all distraught and confused. I notice they both look fake-bake tan. They haggle over percentages. "Call your friends. Let 'em know the game's happenin'," Tony says, and leaves in a fog. Junior looks upset.
"What goes up, must come down," the Muzak plays as furry-eyebrowed Earnest Eric approaches Richie in his dad's sporting goods store. Richie is doing his best Pacino impression as he tries on sunglasses. "Yeah, I wanta buy a boat with tree [sic] propellers," Richie tells him. Eric gets all flustered and Richie gives him a hard time: "Kid, you see me here every week. When are you going to stop asking," and gives him the condescending cheek tap. Davey rushes past, asking if there's a problem. Richie's in a good mood for a sick bastard, and he says he's just breaking his kid's balls. What a vivid expression. Davey hands him an envelope from behind the cash register. Richie adds to his already overflowing charm by saying, "Like a pimp says to his hos, keep 'em coming." Okay, his delivery was really funny, yet the joke was really nasty. Davey, ever so stupidly and matter-of-factly, says that his payment is two "c's" shy, and that he'll catch up week. He hems and haws and hums that he just got caught off-guard this month, he took a second (mortgage, I assume) on his house, he didn't calculate it into his budget, et cetera -- it's no problem, right? God, is this guy stupid, and I mean stupid spelled stoopid. He's that dim. Richie, looking very much an evil little troll to Davey, says it's no good. Davey calls his faux pas just a stutter step, "no biggie." That's the second time he's said no biggie. Who the hell says "no biggie"? I mean, like, gag me with a spoon, totally. "The difference gets tacked onto the principal, you know that," Richie insists. Davey says he understands. Not. Richie says he doesn't want him at his games until he's caught up, Davey whines that's not necessary, and Richie reminds him that he didn't start "this life" ten minutes ago, and when a guy hands you a light envelope it's just the beginning. Wise, Rich. For you. Davey makes excuses, and Richie cuts him off, throwing Davey's feeble "it's just a stutter step" excuse in his face. Davey actually looks sheepish for once. He's just too stoopid. He's a cyborg, you know.
Christopher and his two monkey boys, buying comestibles. Christopher inquires if the Brazilian snapper is "fishy," because it's for pizzaiola and he has to smell it. The fish guy is annoyed and asks if he wants something or what, with repeated shrugging of his shoulders. Christopher says he wants enough snapper for fifteen people and ten pounds of shrimp. Mmm, mmm, good. Now I want shrimp. As the guy moves away, Christopher rigs the scale with a matchbox so he won't have to pay hardly as much. Sneaky. He wheels around and resumes instructing his monkey boys. "There's gonna be some serious money there, this is no nickel-and-dime shit," he tells them. "These motherfuckers could play for two days straight sometimes. Now once you start work, you don't go till the game breaks up and that fucking place looks like an operating room." Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale is taken aback at the fact that they're essentially "cleaning guys." Christopher sketchily has an altercation with the fish guy over the price of the fish, blah blah blah, Christopher accuses the fish guy of putting his finger on the scale, he's all don't pull that shit with me that you pull with the old ladies, Christopher's totally conning the guy, et cetera. Fish guy tries to go use another scale, but Christopher craftily squeals that he's trying to rob him. Christopher is really a good actor. The character, not Michael Imperioli. Although Mr. Imperioli is consequently quite good as well, especially since I regard them as two different people. He (Imperioli) was on some episode of Homicide once.
Anyway, Christopher wins the fish fight and turns around with a really smug look at his monkey boys. "Serve some booze, empty ashtrays, and whatever you do don't engage Silvio in conversation -- he can be a sick fuck when he's gambling," he advises them. Christopher begins telling an anecdote regarding Silvio's mental instability: once he was down fifty large, he sneezed, a guy named Fritzi said salut. Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale interrupts to ask if it's the Fritzi Neste from Hoboken, Christopher asks if he knows him, Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale says no, and Christopher tells him to shut up then and let him finish. He continues his story. Silvio thinks Fritzi said something else other than salut, and for the rest of the night Silvio blames Fritzi for his losing streak. Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale asks what Silvio thought he said, and Christopher gets all agitated. "Are you listening to me or what? He's a fucking nut! Who knows?" Fish guy gives them their seafood, protesting once again that he didn't put his finger in the scale. Okay, fish boy, you've lost and you don't even know it, so you get the stoopid award. Poor guy. Maybe I'm being tough on him. I withdraw the stoopid comment. As Christopher leaves the store he tells the boys to pay for the fish and put it in the trunk so it doesn't stink up the car. Both monkey boys confer about Christopher, asking themselves if he's for real or what, and if he thinks they're fucking piss boys. Well, not piss boys, but monkey boys! "C'mon, let's get the fuck outta here." Yeah, let's blow this fishsicle stand.
Close-up of vinyl dominatrix boots, much like those worn by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, coming down a set of stairs. Furio, sticking his chin out in that oh-so-Godfather way even more than usual, approaches the desk of what appears to be a hotel. That long ponytail has really got to go, and the silk shirt is a bit too billowy for my taste. He rings the bell a million times, and an evidently Hasidic Jew comes in, looking not so enthused at Furio's presence. Without so much as a howdy-do, Furio demands, "We want the room with the stove and refrigerator." "The efficiencies have been booked to paying customers," the Hasid replies. "Muovono," Furio grunts, which means either "hurry up" or "bastard," I'm not sure which. Furio continues his demands for additional rooms on the sides, for they may be there for some days. This must be for Tony's executive game. The Hasid begins to complain that they are ruining the place. Furio won't have it, and tells him that it's his father's fault for making a business deal with them. Then he says he wants a lot of clean towels and the bathrooms "fresh-smelling." For some reason I get a kick out of that. "I should work for nothing?" the Hasid says in his best Fiddler on the Roof impression. Meanwhile, scantily clad women have been mysteriously walking up and down the stairs behind Furio. He calls one over by name, Vivica. Okay, she is definitely dressed for the street corner, or perhaps a Sex and the City audition. Furio asks her if she ever sucks his dick, gesturing towards the Hasid. In her best saucy homegirl inflection, she responds, "I make that beanie spin when I work his thing." Ew. That's an image straight out of a Mel Brooks movie. I also can't stand people who call yarmulkes beanies. Vivica slinks off, and Furio tells the Hasid not to bitch to him. Heh heh.
Police car siren. A dimly-lit street. A cop has pulled fake-bake Paulie over. Uh oh. Paulie looks shiftily in his rearview mirrors. The cop shines a flashlight into Paulie's face, and Paulie sing-songs, "Whaddaya hear, whaddaya say?" The cop asks for his license and registration. Oh boy. Paulie pulls out a gun, points it at the cop, and says how about I give you one of these instead. Oh my. Like an absolute IDIOT the cop tells him he's wearing a vest, in a very weary tone. Paulie says then he'll shoot him in the crotch, or rather, his braciola. Okay this is weird. The cop pokes his head in the window and calls Paulie a sick fuck. They hardy har har, and Paulie calls him by name: Danny Boy. Jeez. Men with guns in any line of work are just crazy. I mean Cra-Z. Paulie asks after his family, he starts to tell him, and Paulie stops him with, "Hey. I got my own fuckin problems." More laughter. Blech. This just isn't funny. Danny Boy calls him a "hard-on" and laments how many times he's fallen for that. Paulie hands him a roll of cash. On the take, that North Jersey police force. Danny Boy tells Paulie that the game players can't mess with the tourists or hotel guests, they must keep the noise down, and there are to be no gunshots, otherwise they have to "take the call." Yeah yeah yeah, go play cops-and-robbers, and Paulie shoos him away. Frightening.
The executive game. Platters of shrimp, antipasto, you name it! YUM. My stomach is growling and I'm craving chicken parmesan, sausage and peppers, anything Italian. Of course, Tony is stuffing his face, but I have to say he looks really good in a nice olive-colored suit complete with tie clip, cufflinks and a rosy silk kerchief in his pocket. One of my old roommates has a huge crush on James Gandolfini and sometimes I can see why. When he won Emmys for this role she was screaming, "Yeah, Tony! My man James! " and doing that old Arsenio Hall whoop-whoop arm thing. At the time, I thought she was out of her gourd. Little did I know that Mr. Gandolfini is in possession of many charms, especially when he's dressed well. But I digress into Italian-American Actors and Why We Love Them 101. Tony attempts to call over Matt, a.k.a. Monkey Boy From A Bronx Tale, but repeatedly calls him Mike. Christopher tells Matt that Tony wants him. Monkey Boy From A Bronx Tale eagerly comes over and says, "Yeah, T." Arrrggghh. He's so stoopid. Tony pleasantly corrects him on the name and then instructs him to give him and Dr. Fried each one of the Macanudo cigars. Frank Sinatra Jr. is present, and it's all very serious and gambler-ish. Paulie waves away smoke as they some light up cigars. Monkey Boy From A Bronx Tale offers them all Macanudos, which he was not instructed to do, and Paulie tells him to take a walk. Frank Sinatra Jr. reassures Matt not to be bothered by Paulie, he's just "an incredibly nasty fuck." Paulie tells Chairboy of the Board to read his cards. Tony tells the Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale to put some trays of food out and to not give anybody booze unless they ask for it, which takes a lot more brain power for him to absorb than is necessary. These monkey boys worry me.
A knock at the door, and Christopher opens it to find Davey. What is he, a complete nut case? My God. When Tony tells you to stay away from the game, STAY AWAY FROM THE GAME, for God's sake. Davey asks for Tony, Christopher's all do I know you? Davey's all I'm Mr. Big-Shot Sporting-Goods Man and proceeds to peek inside like a little boy. He gets a load of Frank Sinatra Jr. and Christopher scowls and closes the door on him. Tony comes out and is all happy to see you, they shake hands; Davey's all I was just passing by. Whatever, you're such the goober. He compliments the hotel, and Tony jokes that it's a regular Taj Mahal. Davey makes small talk about Eric and Meadow singing, Tony says, "If I never hear that song again it'll be too soon," and Miss Parker shouts Amen! to that. Davey's all Eric's light in the arts, this'll help him get into college, and there's an awkward silence and both men sigh. After I move to a retirement home, Davey finally gets to the point and asks what the game is, and if that was really Frank Sinatra Jr. Tony makes light of it, says he flies in special and he's a friend of Uncle Junior's. "So, whaddaya think?" Davey says slyly (he thinks). Tony still doesn't get how insane this guy is, and says "there's a resemblance," thinking he's talking about Frank Jr. Davey has the balls to ask Tony if he thinks he can "take these guys." Tony sees the jig is up and starts to move to the door while telling him over and over that this isn't a game for him. Davey gets all desperate and whiny and blathers what are the chances I'll get close to a game like this again, let me sit in, whine whine, bitch bitch. Tony insists, wisely, with a forceful pat on Davey's arm, that he doesn't do business with outside friends. Davey thinks he'll do better by calling Tony "Anthony" and talking about high-school prom pictures, memories memories, we go way back, et cetera, passive-aggressive guilt. "I'm a big boy," he says, in a voice coated with con artisanship and testosterone, but when Tony finally asks what he's holding (meaning how much money does he have to play with), he makes excuses -- he assumed he wouldn't be allowed to play, so in other words, he has no dough. Tony reminds him he needs five c's just to sit in and moves away, mistakenly thinking the conversation is over. Davey is like a puppy on his heels, begging Tony to lend him the money, "short-term." This guy is the stupidest man alive, I've decided. Tony warns him not to say short if he doesn't mean short, and Davey's all come on, I mean it, you don't have to explain business to me. He stands there with all the confidence of a drooling gambling addict and they go inside. Tony must have lost his mind, his marbles, and his muscle inside and they have to go get them.
Christopher is inside looking like a short-order cook with a cigarette dangling from his lips, hairy chest hanging out of his shirt, and stirring something akin to scrambled eggs. Tony introduces Davey to Christopher and tells him to give him five boxes of ziti. Not the pasta kind, but the thousand-dollar kind. Tony wishes him luck, and Christopher tells the table there's new blood coming in. They all turn around and are lit all ominously Godfather-like. He's absolutely going to lose everything. Cut to Paulie snoring, all splayed out on the couch. Tony plugs his nose as he goes by, and Paulie snorts and wakes up. Hee. It was a funny noise. Davey's at the table, prattling on about the sporting-goods biz, claiming his present slump is just temporary and he has all these brilliant "ideas" for year. Someone buy this guy a clue. Paulie decides to lighten the atmosphere, telling Davey to ask Dr. Fried what his specialty is. Johnny Sack chimes in that the answer is hard-ons. Davey is incredulous. "Penile implants," the prick doctor replies. Paulie eggs him on, attempting to pantomime something -- probably very disgusting, knowing Paulie -- but the delicate genius doctor groans that he's heard all the jokes already. Hee. They start a new hand. Silvio is getting testy and dropping crumbs all over the floor. Tony tells Matt to sweep up, especially under Silvio. Oh Tony. You're just asking for Silvio to open up a can of whoop-ass on the poor monkey boy. Silvio is harassing Davey at the moment, and Davey protests that he's just having good luck. Bear in mind that every other word out of Silvio is "fuck" for the five minutes. His bottom lip is protruding, his brow has so many ripples in it I can't count them all, and his pompadour is messy and quivering with rage. Tony is very amused by this, and begins to giggle to himself in the corner. Silvio gets quibbly with the dealer, saying, "Don't rush me Sunshine, you been rushing me all fuckin' night," to which Johnny Sack quips, "He didn't study this hard at school." There's an exchange of words between the dealer and Johnny; then the prick doctor decides to put a chip in so the dealer controls the game. I have no idea how these things work, but that's what I deduced with my finely tuned little gray cells. I just enjoy the fact that Silvio calls the dealer "Sunshine." Silvio starts in on the doctor, but Matt, the keen intellect that he is, picks this moment to begin sweeping up at Silvio's feet. Silvio flips out, screaming, "I'm losing my balls over here and this fucking moron's playing Hazel?" Hee. I do love Silvio. He's my best friend and I'm inviting him to my roller-skating birthday party. Everyone looks tense, and Matt decides that trying to explain his cheese confiscating actions is the best way to go in this situation. Wrong again, monkey boy! Silvio goes ballistic, asking why can't he just leave it, why does he have to clean it now, and says he wants the cheese to stay there. He loves cheese at his feet. "I stick motherfucking provolone in my socks at night, so they smell like your sister's crotch in the morning. All right? So leave the fucking cocksucking cheese where it is!" Okay, that was crude, but it was also really hilarious and I still love Silvio. He throws a bunch of cheese and food on the floor and tells Matt, "Here. Have a good time." Tony continues to chuckle to himself, as do I. Silvio sits again and tells the doctor to fix a prick. Hee hee again and again. Broken-record Paulie brings up Viagra and tells a really feeble joke about trying to raise the "Titanic" with a crate of it. Lame. Now they're all in the game again, and Davey decides he'll raise the stakes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I bite my tongue as, lo and behold, Davey wins the hand, to much razzing by Silvio. Tony backs Davey up, telling Silvio his money's good. However, Silvio is wisely not convinced, like me, and knows Davey will not get out when he should. He commands "cheese-fuck," a.k.a. Matt, to get him some food, and grumbles he should have stayed with his goomah tonight. Hee.
Cut to nighttime skyline of the Garden State in all its industrial glory, or as we used to say in college, "New Jersey: When Machines Ruled the Earth." The thing we know, it's morning at The Soprano Compound. Meadow clomps ungracefully down the steps. Someone give that girl a Victoria's Secret catalog, please -- she needs a lot more support, there's way too much jiggling going on. Meadow is sporting messy pigtails and a sour-grapes frown on her face, accompanied by Eric Scatino's SUV sound system blaring metal. She gets into the car and declares she's "so pissed," because Hunter SKANKarello just called her to say Rachel Weiss got in early acceptance to Wesleyan. She's just like her father. She should say "ah salut, good for you." Instead, these two charming youths deduce that she got in because her mother's black. "Please, I'm blacker than her mother," Meadow drones. Ooh. Meadow, that's not such a good thing to say. I'm very disappointed in you. "Well, you should have mentioned that on your application," Eric the Keebler Elf Scatino retorts jauntily. They drive off with much eye-rolling and sighing from Miss Meadow, queen of the pouty-faces.
9 AM at the executive game, and there are many sleepy bodies and unshaven faces. In brief, the men look pretty shitty, and I bet they smell worse. Christopher wakes up Tony, who does not look so dapper anymore with bedhead. He tells Christopher to ask the remaining players if they want to "close the lights." Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale hands Tony a coffee, and Tony asks if anyone else wants more coffee. Frank Jr. asks for some with sambuca in it. Like father, like son. They have to explain to Davey what "closing the lights" is. In Frank Jr.'s words, it's admitting you lost and packing it in. Of course, the gambling addict with no sense of self control, a.k.a. Davey Scatino, doesn't want to quit. Tony takes Christopher aside and asks him how much Davey owes them. Forty-five boxes of ziti, he says. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that's $45,000. Apparently Davey grabbed ten boxes when Tony was asleep and said he okayed it. What a chump. A knock at the door, and this time it's our favorite neighborhood hood Richie Aprile. He saunters around, so-called greeting people; everyone dislikes Richie and Richie dislikes everyone, so it's not very sincere. Silvio's hair is all sticking out every which way. Hee. Then Richie spots Davey and all hell breaks loose. "How'd you get in here?" "Same as you, through the front door," Tony chimes in. Richie says he's got some nerve and he should stab him in the eye. Pleasant thought. Christopher attempts to step in, but Richie gets all up in his face too and threatens him. Well, he says he's got a hard-on for him, but I don't think he means that in the biblical sense. Richie attacks Davey and Tony intervenes, ordering him outside. Tony tries to get rid of the tension that has mounted in the room by offering everyone a drink, but it doesn't work. Frank Jr. wants to pack it in, and everyone else follows, making excuses, regardless of Tony's breakfast promises. Frank Jr. throws a chip at Matt and he stammers out "thank yous" and "sirs" and bows repeatedly like a stereotypical Asian businessman.
Richie shouts, "I shut him the fuck down, he comes here, and he sticks it up my ass!" as he leaves the building, Tony hot on his heels. Tony's only concern is the fact that Richie so blatantly disrespected his game. Richie treads on thin ice by growling that everyone's sick of Tony's "holier-than-thou act." Tony tells him then people should make a move. Richie tells him to stop being dramatic -- he just acts like he's in a different business sometimes, and he should send Davey out there so Richie can basically kick the shit out of him for not paying up. "Send him out here so I can get my money," he says. Tony refuses, so Richie explains further that Davey owes him over eight large. I think that means over $8,000, so Richie's saying he shouldn't have the money to play in this game if he doesn't have the money to pay him back. Tony tells him to go home, this isn't going to happen to one of his players. Richie stares him in the eye with ferocity and walks away, but hocks a lugey while he does so. Ugh. He's cruisin' for a bruisin'.
Inside, Davey is splashing water on his face. When Tony comes back in, he says to him, "Wow, he was pissed." This guy doesn't understand a damn thing, I tell you. Tony proceeds to reality-check him by reminding him he has one day to get him his forty-five grand. Davey's all no problem, and changes the topic to Silvio. Tony tells him to shut the fuck up, finally. Davey continues to reside in Denial Land, and says he could use a schvitz. He's all blasé: "Wanna go for a schvitz?" Tony says if after one day he doesn't get all his money, every Saturday he'll have to pay five percent interest, and if he doesn't have it it'll get tacked onto the principle. Davey gets all excusecakes on him and changes the subject to Meadow's college application progress; it's totally inappropriate, and sounds totally sketchy, like it's a threat or something. He's all deer in the headlights innocent as he says, "Tony, did I do something to insult you?" Tony gets all quiet and menacing, and tells him he has two days. Davey leaves, and the familiar gang sits down to see how they did. Silvio, Paulie, Christopher, and Tony toast the game and pat themselves on the back for running the executive game. Tony takes a stroll down memory lane and talks about how he and Silvio would peek in the keyhole and Junior would catch them and chase them down the street -- Junior was a prick even then. Hee.
Simple bass guitar riffs float through the Soprano Compound. Ew, they're singing again. Let me rephrase that. MEADOW is singing again. A shiver goes up my spine. Miss Saigon sucks, anyway. Tony is snoring away in bed at 3:20 PM, and the nasal croonings of Miss Meadow wake him. He pounds on her door. Meadow rolls her eyes back into her head and opens the door with many flouncy, stompy movements. "Do you mind, God!" Tony roars that he's trying to sleep, he was working all night. Tony appears very rumpled, stinky, and stubbly in his bathrobe. He pauses to make small talk with Eric, but Meadow puts on her best saucy face and asks him if he's awake now, and when he says yes, she says "Good, close the door." She's such the sassafrass. Tony attempts discipline by yelling "Hey!" but she just rolls her eyes, turns her back on him, and sulks. Tony asks where Carmela is, and Meadow injects as much exasperation and venom into the two words "the" and "store" as she possibly can. "Aunt Barbara called, Uncle Tom's father died," Meadow calls after him as he makes his way out of her evil teen lair. Tony is shocked and upset that Meadow doesn't know the details. "The guy's here almost every Christmas Eve, you don't ask? Somebody says Joe Blow died, normal people ask how, what happened? Jesus!" Meadow rolls her eyes back in her head again, but is impeded by the thick layer of bronze eyeshadow caked on them, so she just stares with her mouth open and turns her back on him again. Tony is disgusted and closes her door.
Melfi's office. Tony is venting about Tom Senior's sudden death. "This gust of wind comes and knocks him off the roof. All for a satellite dish." Melfi makes an incredible psychological breakthrough by determining that that's very sad. Tony tells her he was 65 -- he worked his whole life for his family, always did the right thing, and one day after he retires, he falls off the roof and croaks. Tony makes a whistly whoosh sound and an arm gesture to imply getting knocked off a roof. "Carlos Castaneda said, live every moment as if it were your last dance on earth," Melfi says in an extremely breathy Zen voice. Tony retorts, and rightly so, "Who the fuck listens to prizefighters?" Hee hee. Then Tony rethinks his comment and says Ali had a little wisdom. "Well, at least Tom Senior isn't the Happy Wanderer anymore -- he got his. You don't have to pummel his ass. He's joined the ranks of the unlucky." I hate it when Melfi tries to be down with the lingo. Tony shares my frustration and tells her he doesn't know what she's talking about. Back and forth cutting from Tony to Melfi and back again. Silence. Tony shifts gears and tells Melfi he found out he had a retarded uncle that nobody told him about. "You believe this shit?" Was he seriously developmentally disabled? Melfi asks, in a stilted voice that makes her sound like she's seriously developmentally disabled. "Serious? Naw, he had everybody in stitches back then." Lorraine Bracco takes an extended moment to remember her line, and says, "Now that you found out that you have a retarded family member so you feel better about coming here? Is it permissible now? Is it enough of a sad tragedy that you can join the rest of the douchebags?" Melfi's hair looks terrible, and she has what looks like a rotten front tooth or a really bad cigarette stain. Tony is nonplussed and looks like he's just been bawled out by his schoolteacher.
Funeral, wake, what have you. Tom Sr. in a bad toupee in an open casket. Carmela is consoling Aunt Barbara in her nauseating "we're here for you" good-Catholic-woman way. Meadow and AJ are so not happy to be there and they stare at Livia, who is flanked by Richie and Janice while she wails and flails her rosary beads about. Tony says Va fa cul' a tu under his breath, and Carmela the matriarch reminds him that they were bound to see them at some function, so just relax. "Fuckin' Bette Davis back there," Tony gripes. Hee. Carmela hisses, "No scenes." Tony looks back at Livia, Janice, and Richie and gets up abruptly, telling the kids they're leaving. AJ sighs, "Thank God." Hee. Carmela grabs fierce hold of Tony with her French-tipped talons, telling him she'll kill him. "We paid our respects, now we're leaving," Tony insists. "This may come as a surprise to you but these people are not here to see the Sopranos kill each other. Now show some respect for Tom's father, will you please?" Carmela whispers at him. Richie comes over and kisses Carmela on the cheek, and he and Tony go over to Tom Junior and give him their "boost": this is money (always cash) given to the family, which is done at all Italian funerals and weddings, not just connected ones.
Tony and Richie step into an adjoining room. Tony lights up a cigar, and Richie comments on the decor and what a great racket funerals are. Then he decides it's a good idea to tell Tony not to smoke in there. Nice one. Tony asks who's going to complain, the stiffs? He gestures towards another body in a casket. "Hey, you mind? He don't mind," Tony says. Tony always looks so spooky surrounded by smoke. Richie apologizes for blowing up at Tony's game. Tony reminds him that he was out of line, and that he needs to "back off and respect the title." Meaning, I'm the boss, and don't you forget that. Richie attempts ass-kissing and says Tony's in charge, he makes the rules. Tony hulks over Richie like Frankenstein and says, "No, no. I don't make 'em. They've always been there. Now you get this, Davey Scatino doesn't pay you a fucking penny until I get mine first. That's the tax you get for raising your hands at my game. I get mine first, then you get yours. That's the way it's gonna be. I don't do something, how's it gonna look?" Richie closes his eyes and inhales in disbelief. Tony goes back out to the main room and sits to Carmela, a picture of piety, sucking in her cheeks and opening her eyes widely with attentiveness as usual. Father-son-holy-ghosting, and Tony looks menacingly at Livia, who is kissing her cross. Funeral service, et cetera.
Livia out cold in the back seat while Richie and Janice drive home. "I'm just sayin' I don't think you should take any shit from him," Janice says in a hushed "I know the score with Tony and I'm going to manipulate you into dealing with him so that I can get mine vicariously through you" voice. Richie moans that he heard her the first time, let's drop the subject. Janice shuts up for about a millisecond, and Richie defends himself by saying that Tony put him back in action with $50,000 after he got out of jail. Janice is all of a sudden proud of her daddy's little girl status, and reminds him that she knows how things work. She whispers the "daddy's little girl" part, as she looks shiftily at Livia, which is kind of strange. "You're his responsibility, he didn't do you any favor," she continues. Why would you ever want to make a guy like Richie feel all less than a man is beyond me. Then she launches into a story about how Johnny Boy helped out another guy with $50,000 when he got out of jail thirty years ago. Then she gets all snooty and sarcasm drips from her voice as she figures that'd be half a million dollars these days, so what Tony gave Richie was diddly-squat and he should be insulted. She just loves trouble, this one. Punchline: she tells him mailmen make more than $50,000. Jeez, Janice. Don't give the man a complex or anything.
Tony stalks into Davey Scatino's office. Davey is listening to Jimmy Buffett, which amuses me to no end. I only wish it were "Cheeseburger in Paradise" and not "Tequila Sunrise." Tony gets to the point straight away. "So what's this fucking doctor's appointment you had all of a sudden when my friend comes to see you? What do you think, I'm still the kid on the schoolbus?" As usual Davey makes excuses, saying he'll make it all work out somehow, he's doing his best, he fucked up, blah blah blah Gambler's Anonymous calling. There's lots of threatening by Tony, and lots of whimpering by Davey when he admits he has nothing for him. Davey tries one last stab at pathetic sorries, but then makes the mistake of mentioning that their kids go to the same school together. Tony smacks him and he's down like a prom dress. Tony slaps him around a bit, and Davey turns into a sniveling baby. Tony says he better have something for him, and stalks out as Davey blubbers like the aforementioned baby he is.
Vesuvio. I love the music they play in this place. All the greatest hits from Dirty Dancing. Artie comes over to the defeated Davey. He's so dense that I have absolutely no sympathy for this guy. Plus he was that evil policeman cyborg, so I guess I was prejudiced against him from the get-go. He sits down with Mr. Nice Guy Arthur Bucco and tells him he's in a little bind, a bad jam, and he feels ashamed. Who cares? Not me! He could lose his job, his marriage, blah blah blah. Artie inaccurately guesses that he knocked up that Tae Bo Workout woman, which just makes me dislike Davey even more. Artie's all talk to me, I'm your friend. Davey begs him for money. He tries to downplay it like he needs fifty bucks or something, murmuring that it's not much, just enough for breathing room, "I swear on my kid I'd get it back to you before you even miss it," and so on. It's so comforting to hear him swear on his kid. Not. He asks Richie for $20,000. Oh yeah, that's just peanuts. Artie's face goes all "D'oh!" and he huffs and puffs and clasps his hands and is all madon', I gotta put a new roof on this place, this is such bad timing. What a performance. Artie offers, "God forgive me for saying this, but have you considered Chapter 11?" Davey's all that won't fly with Tony Soprano. Artie looks freaked out for real now. This is not good. Madon'.
Davey pulls up to his house in his obnoxious luxury automobile. There's a Volvo in the garage and an SUV in the driveway, and I love how Davey decides to get rid of Eric's car in order to pay Tony. He's just like Livia, a guy with a ham under his arm crying because he has no bread. Davey proceeds to take the Jeep away from Eric based on the bogus reason that there's mud on the doors from off-roading, and Eric wasn't taking care of it. He has the nerve to lecture Eric about taking responsibility for his things, when he just plunged his family into incredible debt to a mafia boss and one of his henchmen! Eric throws a tantrum, saying he only took some girls onto the football field for cheerleading practice; Mrs. Scatino shrieks at both of them, and Davey peels away in Eric's car. thing we know Tony is giving Meadow Eric's Jeep. Meadow quickly figures out that it's Eric's, asks if he took it from Eric's dad or did he buy it, and stomps upstairs when Tony answers, "Something like that." Carmela stands by in judgment, groaning, "Oh my God, is it Eric Scatino's Jeep? Jesus, Tony." Tony barges into Meadow's room, where she has flounced onto her bed and is hugging a pillow. He begins to bellow, "She don't want it, fine. Don't take it. But I'll eat it before I give it back, what am I, a sucker?" Meadow screeches back that it's not Eric's fault he has an asshole father, and Eric didn't do anything to him. "The guy owed me money and he did the right thing when he offered that car up as partial payment," Tony asserts. Meadow's all snotty back-talking, and Tony conveniently blames Carmela. "You see this, you see, this is you talking," Tony says to her as she lurks in the doorway, hands on her hips and dressed in a terrible ribbed gold top with one of those keyholes in the middle that shows your cleavage. Carmela's all holier-than-thou networking expert as she says, "I just hope you know his wife is very close to the brother-in-law of the provost at Georgetown." Meadow groans. The significance is lost on Tony. He gets all in Meadow's face and says he's going to sell the car and buy clothes, food, shoes and all the rest of the crap he's been buying since the day she was born. Ouch. "Everything this family has comes from the work I do!" "That's enough," Carmela the referee chimes in, and begins to move away, but Tony's not done. "A grown man made a wager, he lost, he made another one, he lost again. End of story. So take that high moral ground and go sleep in the bus station if you want!" He leaves, and Carmela and Meadow make exhausted crabby faces.
Cabaret night. Carmela's hair is basically done up in a curly-cue-ish beehive. I'm not entirely joking. She must have used an entire bottle of Aqua Net. It's definitely at the non-movement level. I have the feeling it's the same hairdo she wore on her first date with Tony. Tony buries his face in the flowers he has for Meadow while Carmela sucks in her cheeks and spots Janice and Livia a few rows back. Richie comes over with a much bigger bouquet and asks where Janice is. "Didn't I see those at the wake the other day?" Tony teases him. Carmela tells him where Janice is. It's all fake, fake, fake as Richie and Tony make nice. Simultaneously, Tony looks at Livia with squinty eyes, and the Scatinos look nervously at him. "Just keep thinking Meadow," Carmela offers. Meltdown Meadow backstage, as Eric proceeds to abandon her, and she tries to get him to stay and talk about the Jeep incident. "I thought you were my friend," Eric spits out. Meadow reaches a pitch nearly in the dog-hearing range as she squeals, "I am, I can't stop my dad from selling it!" Eric is beyond talking, and beyond sanity, as he starts to talk smack about Tony. "He's a real low-life fucking asshole," he bellows at her. Meadow continues to shriek and remind him that his dad isn't exactly innocent in this situation. "For your information he gave it to my dad, it's not like my dad stole it." Eric has passed his boiling point, and screams, "You know what, Meadow, fuck you, fuck your gangster father, and fuck this!" ["God, do I love that line." -- Sars] Meadow stands there helpless in her faux geisha-girl outfit complete with chopstick hair pieces; Eric stalks out and slams the stage door after flinging his army fatigue jacket to the ground in defiance. His lips are very big and his eyebrows are very bushy. I don't like him in my face. Like Camryn Manheim said on Boston Public the other night, "You project nicely. There's no need to be in my face. But while you're here, you're not better-looking up close." Hee. That's what Meadow should have said.
Voice over the PA system. A clever young man tells them to not take pictures, videotape, to turn off pagers and cell phones, and to unwrap candy before the performance. My, my. What do they think this is, Broadway? Cut to Livia and Janice, the Scatinos, the Sopranos. It's announced that Meadow is singing "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic instead of her Miss Saigon travesty with Eric. The Scatinos book it out of there. Carmela says, "That's a lucky break, I wonder what happened?" Oh, come on, Carm. Use a brain cell. Güdren starts singing her scary German song, AJ leans back in boredom, and it fades into the Happy Wanderer ditty. "I love to go a wandering, along the mountain trail, and as I go I love to sing, my knapsack on my back." Frightening images of lederhosen-clad lads and dirndl-clad ladies enter my mind, and Miss Parker hopes her dream catcher prevents any German-themed nightmares tonight.