Second Opinion

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Mighty Big Airlines Flight 307, non-stop service to Newark International Airport. As we prepare for take-off, please make sure all carry-on items are stowed, and that your seat-backs and mouse pads are in their full upright and locked position. Should this recap experience a sudden loss of humor, nitrous oxide masks will drop from the ceiling to provide additional laughing gas. Those of you reading with small children should be sure to secure your own mask before assisting the child (althoughwhat the hell are you doing letting your kid watch The Sopranos?). In the event of a water landing, you can use your keyboard as a floatation device. For about ten seconds. Also, please note that the Fasten Seat Belt sign is still lit, and that all readers must remain in their seats until the Captain gives the all-clear.

All right, sorry. But I'm writing this recap on the plane as I wing back from a fun-filled few days in Florida for Passover, and I keep accidentally typing whatever the captain announces over the loudspeaker. It's sixty-two degrees and overcast in Baltimore, by the way. Anyway, on with the recap

We fade up on an anesthesiologist telling Junior to count backwards from ten. He makes it all the way down to nine before passing out, and thus begins the funniest drug-induced hallucination since Homer ate the Quesosakatenango pepper. (Note to Sars's spell-checker: Sorry.) Two FBI agents appear and offer him a deal, authorized by the director himself. Junior can receive a complete cure, with "not a single diseased cell," if he only rats out Tony. Cut to a smiling Junior in a newspaper photo, with the headline, "Soprano wins freedom, indicts nephew. Star witness to marry Angie Dickinson." My parent's crappy VCR (purchased in, I kid you not, 1983) isn't clear enough for me to tell if that's actually Angie in the picture, but she was a babe back in the day, and I don't have a hard time believing Junior has a thing for her. There's a slow fade to him on the gurney, accompanied by an audio montage of the past two seasons, which features Livia heavily. As the doctors operate, the head surgeon takes a call from the lab assuring him that all of the cancerous cells have been removed. "Watch and learn, Miles. Watch and learn," he says, and I sincerely hope that Miles doesn't take that advice to mean that he should learn from Sam McMurray's career choices. Seriously, people. This guy was in C.H.U.D., Stone Cold, The Mod Squad, Lucky Numbers, Baby Geniuses, Dear God, Soccer Dog and Ray's Male Heterosexual Dance Hall. I mean, how's that for a rsum? And I feel bad listing my six weeks as a fry cook at McDonald's when I was fifteen. ["Give the guy a break. He was also in Raising Arizona, one of the best movies ever." -- Sars]

Out in the waiting room, Tony, Bobby Bacala, and a couple of irrelevant elderly persons are waiting anxiously. Doctor Flop comes over and quickly announces that everything went well, and now that he's taken "a tumor the size of your fist" out of Junior's stomach, the cancer should be gone. That sounds a little too good to be true, especially since it's only the first two minutes of the episode, and we've all already seen the promos. As the doctor departs, Tony comes over to say thanks. He mentions that Junior loves the guy, and offers to do him, "you know, a favor," should he ever need one. The Doc barely even listens before departing, and while I have a hard time believing this guy didn't know exactly who Tony was from the start, it's not really clear here.

At the Bing, Christopher has just beaten Paulie in another game of pool. At least they've found a better use for the cues than Joey Pants did last week. When Paulie refuses to pay up, Chris is pissed at getting stiffed. Of course, given the way this scene ends, being "stiffed" might not be the worst thing that could happen to him. Wow, I can't believe I just made that joke. That one belonged in Tomcats. Anyway, Paulie does his best JFK impersonation, saying, "Ask not what your Paulie can do for you, ask what you can do for your Paulie." Okay, so he doesn't use those exact words, but I'm working a theme here, people. Speaking of which, the incredibly fat, sweaty woman to me has just rolled up her sleeves to reveal a tattoo most Navy SEALS would be embarrassed to display. And while the horrifying-airline-seatmate genre of comedy has already been well strip-mined to death by now, I gotta tell you, it's funny because it's true. And just because the matzoh, the turbulence, and the fifteen pounds or so of flabby, exposed flesh draped on my armrest weren't upsetting my stomach enough, Paulie now orders Christopher to strip, so they can search him for a wire. Chris obviously has some reservations about this new employee policy, but is told that "New York" is insisting on it because lately "too many people are doing a simulcast." Speaking of which, who else watched the Masters on Sunday? Tiger Woods is my hero. Of course, so are Cat Stevens, Pussy Galore, and Eartha Kitt(en). Okay, so that's not strictly relevant, but I was working a theme there, people. Chris finally disrobes (and would that the show could do the same -- but more on that later), and Paulie is quick with the dick jokes. Not as quick as I was in this (incredibly bloated (and now overly parenthetical)) paragraph, but quick nonetheless.

Das Sopranohaus. It's Sunday dinner with Tony, AJ, Carmela, and the suddenly ubiquitous DeAngelis clan. Carmela and AJ are arguing over whether or not he should go on his high-school trip to Washington DC. Hey, I went on a high-school trip to Washington DC. Shout-out? Or perhaps it's a product placement for the DC Board of Tourism. Who knows anymore? Anyway, Tony insists that AJ make the trip. "You're gonna pay attention. You're gonna learn something for a change." When I sat down to watch the tape of this episode with my sister, those were my exact words to her. Wanna see my bruise? Incidentally, she lasted through exactly seven minutes of pause, rewind, replay, pause, rewind, make one sentence note, pause, and replay again before heading to the other room to watch Guiding Light. AJ's reason for not wanting to go: "We're visiting FBI headquarters." Heh. Although that is a pretty cool tour. Anyway, Tony gets paged and has to leave, and Carmela and her parents have a four-hour argument about "balsamic" without ever once using the word "vinegar," which I found impressive. Then again, I have no doubt that one of our intrepid forum readers will inform me that balsamic is in fact some sort of spice or oil or meat-like product of its own, and therefore not always associated with vinegar. It's nice to be in the company of people who appreciate obscure and utterly useless trivia as much as myself. Ma DeAngelis starts moaning about Tony, and reminds Carmela that "Angelo Stanford" (of Stanford's Supermarket fame, apparently) was begging to marry her before she hooked up with Tony. Wow, Carmela's mom and my mom sound an awful lot a like, except my mom is begging me to marry just about anyone. Anyone Jewish, that is. In fact, she'd probably rather see me with a Jewish guy than a non-Jewish girl, which I've always found to be simultaneously both very weird and somehow endearing. All this is by way of saying that Carmela's parents in fact do know what Tony does for a living, and they don't much care for it. In the kitchen, however, Carmela snarks back at them, pointing out all the myriad ways in which they've benefited from Tony's largesse. In a nod to the fact that this episode airs right smack in the middle of Passover, Ma DeAngelis recaps the story of Exodus: "Oh, like the waters don't part for you wherever you go." Carmela insists she gets special treatment the old fashioned way: "[She earns] it."

At the Bing, Silvio and Furio are playing cardsio. Tony enters to find one of those "as seen on TV" singing fish on his desk, and gets a kick out of playing with it. I love those things. I'd never actually buy one, but I admire the spirit of entrepreneurship that makes someone decide to market and sell a wall-mounted plastic singing fish, just because they know there are enough people out there who are tacky enough to buy it. In fact, I think it's sad that the only product on this week's show that deserves a proper placement doesn't get one. So, for those interested, just do a search on eBay for "Big Mouth Billy Bass The Singing Fish." Anyway, as Tony watches it sing, he has a flashback to Season Two's Big Pussy/non-plastic talking fish dream. Gandolfini's expression goes perfectly from glee to guilt in one long shot, and he asks where the fish came from. Apparently, Bouncer Bob brought it in. When Tony tries to grab it, it starts singing again, and he jumps back in fright. Heh again. They've been forgetting to bring the funny lately, and I've missed it. Finally, he picks the thing up and heads out front. Finding Bouncer Bob by the bar, he berates him for his bass boo-boo. "This is a place of business. That's an office back there!" he shouts, beating Bob about the face and neck with the fish. After this and the way Pants treated him last week, maybe Bob should file a grievance with the union or something. Stop laughing, Sars. Although I do think it's worth noting that Tony is a lot more angry about finding a singing fish on his desk than he was about finding a dead stripper in his parking lot.

After last scene's season-two flashback, we now go all the way back to season one and the premiere episode. Carmela is in Melfi's lobby, gazing at the same statue (nipples and all) that captivated Tony in the show's opening scene. Tony himself, however, is notably absent. Eventually, Melfi comes out to fetch her, and the two women head inside. I doubt I need to bother telling you this by now, but awkward silence ensues. There's banter about why Tony couldn't be there, and then Carmela compliments Melfi's decorating skills. "That statue, however, is not my favorite," she imparts, and I'm sure there's a Christopher/Michelangelo's David joke in there somewhere, but the fat lady is squeezing me so tightly into the nearby airframe that there's not enough blood getting to my brain to figure it out. When Carmela accuses Melfi of giving her the silent treatment, Melfi attempts to delve into Carmela's reasons for coming alone to therapy. Carmela admits she's worried about her husband, reminding Melfi that Tony can be silent for long stretches, and that he even lied about coming to therapy that day: "Fuck that shit, I believe he said." Melfi mentions that Tony may still be upset about "that young man's death in the garbage compactor," but Carmela correctly points out that Tony never mentioned the cause of death. I wonder what little corner of Melfi's subconscious that detail came from. Perhaps a Jesus Rossi revenge fantasy of some sort? Carmela's suspicions about Tony prove to be right on the money when she mentions that he spends all his time at a strip club, doing who knows what. Well, we know what, but that doesn't help her. Eventually, Melfi does help by referring Carmela to another psychiatrist (whom she describes as being her mentor), as it would be unethical for her to treat both Tony and his wife. Whereas treating known mobsters is apparently an AMA-endorsed practice of some sort. Carmela goes to great lengths to insist she doesn't need therapy (just like Tony did lo these many years ago), but she takes the name and number anyway.

John F. Kennedy (not Jr.): I don't know. This isn't gonna be another depressing death episode, is it? Because we've already had enough of those in my family, thank you.
David Chase: Don't worry. This is a funny one. We've even got her going to therapy. It's her final frontier. See, these are the voyages of the mob-wife Carmela. Her five-year mission: to seek out and explore strange new ways of coping, to seek out new therapists and new donor opportunities, and to boldly go deeper into denial than any man has gone before.
JFK: Hey, I once put the country on a five-year mission to seek out and explore the moon.
David Chase: Yeah, I know. That was pretty cool.
George Lucas: Not as cool as the moon of Endor, though. That one has Ewoks.
JFK: Oy. Where's Harvey and Sirhan when you need 'em?
David Chase: He's annoying, I know. But what are you gonna do?

Junior and Bobby Bacala are back at the doctor's office. Junior compliments the tribal photos Dr. Kennedy has on his wall, and suggests that he submit them to National Geographic. I actually know a National Geographic bush photographer, and Sam McMurray wouldn't last thirty seconds out there, even with a pack of C.H.U.D. to help him out. Doc Kennedy has some bad news: it's possible that the surgery wasn't entirely successful, as some the cells are now showing signs of "nodal involvement." Junior replies with what this episode's title really should be: "Don't blame yourself." Bobby Bacala asks what I thought was a very intelligent and pertinent question about when Junior can go back on solid foods, but Doc Kennedy just wants to schedule another surgery. He hands Junior a consent form. "If you say sign, I sign," Junior tells him. "You tell me to take a dump on the deck of the Queen Mary, and an hour later they're hosing it down with disinfectant." It took me a few minutes to process that and figure out if it made sense or not, but that may just be because the mental image is too scary to even consider. Cut to the car, where Junior berates Bacala for asking stupid questions. Apparently, the special "Seniors" issue of US News & World Report suggests bringing a friend to the doctor's office to ask questions. Incidentally, US News also reports that "Each snarky [MBTV] recap is fraught with righteous indignation[and] cruel nicknames," so you know they're a reliable source.

At the grocery store, Angie Bonpensiero is shopping when she spots Carmela at the meat counter. First off, I guess this means no more free meat. Secondly, I guess it also means no more free recaps without having to spell "Bonpensiero." After they hug, Angie reports that she's shopping across town because of a dog-food sale, and "every penny counts." Carmela asks how she's doing without Pussy, and Angie seems to be getting by okay. For the moment, I am too. Wow, I REALLY can't believe I just used that joke. Carmela invites her over for dinner, saying "maybe we'll get lucky and Tony won't show," but Angie breaks down and starts babbling about her dog, Coco. The dog is "all [she has] left of Pussy," and as both linguists and zoologists ponder the paradoxes inherent in that particular sentence, Angie takes the opportunity to mention that she needs $1,200 for the vet. I know better now, but I actually felt kind of sorry for her here.

Maison de Moltisanti. Chris comes in toting a pair of stuffed-full garbage bags, and asks the immortal question, "Anyone here love the words 'Jimmy Choo shoes?'" I sincerely hope Adriana does, because I certainly don't. I don't even know who Jimmy Choo is. But it's again with the shoes, people. What's up with that? Maybe they're preparing "The Shoepranos" as a substitute in case Chase really does throw in the towel after four seasons. Adriana tries a pair on and is horrified to discover that they're all size ten. "That's Sasquatch size," she tells Christopher, before revealing that she wears an eight-and-a-half. I don't know anymore about women's shoes than Christopher does, but isn't that kind of big too? Something tells me I'll be feeling one of Sars's size nines on my butt for that one. Adriana crawls over to Christopher, telling him how thrilled she is with all the cool stuff they've been getting since he got made. Christopher, on the other hand, is still aggravated with Paulie, and "the Coup DeVille he rode in on." She climbs onto his lap and plants a kiss on him, saying "I love you, baby." "You better," he replies once again, and I'm left to wonder whether that's Artie Bucco foreshadowing, or if David Chase just likes repeating phrases as much as I do.

Das Sopranohaus. Tony wanders in to find Carmela sitting alone at the dinner table. "Everything is cold," she snots, but Tony keeps a cheerful demeanor. "That's why they invented microwaves, for inconsiderate husbands." Carmela bitches about how it would be nice for them to eat together with everyone out of the house, and I guess AJ did go on the Washington trip after all. What with this and the new Joe Isuzu spots, can a syndicated re-airing of Empty Nest be too far behind? Tony goes on and on about how delicious the food is, and I think it's worth noting that he has no real reason to be sucking up to her at this point, so he's probably being sincere. He sits at the table with her, and Carmela mentions that she's having lunch with the Dean (dead!) of Columbia. When Tony snarks that all the guy wants is their money, Carmela claims it's a good investment, so that Meadow can "pass [them] by." "She did that when she was fourteen," replies Tony, and if that's the case, these two are even dumber than I thought, because Meadow at fourteen must have been a hundred times worse than the Meadow of today. Besides, Tony wants his kids to grow up "ignorant, backward, and [sitting] around with their thumbs up their ass." Sounds like my mom again. Carmela now changes the subject to Angie (Bonpensiero, not Dickinson, which is a shame), and Tony asks how's she and "that fluffy, French Coco piece of shit" are doing. He repeats his claim that Pussy is in witness protection, suggesting that Angie search for him by staking out "all the [brand name deleted] in Arizona. He loves their wings." Cha-ching. Tony, who truly seems to believe his own lie at this point, goes on to rant about how "the FBI-family-values-loving-cocksuckers" are to blame here, before stating emphatically that he never wants to hear "about [Pussy] or his [expletive deleted] wife again."

Maison de Moltisanti. Chris and Adriana are curled up in bed, having one of those "lovers" conversations that never, ever works out well. For those interested in obscure Sopranos sexual trivia, the oldest woman Christopher ever slept with was "Chucky Parecio's mother" and the most famous person Adriana ever did was Penn (of Penn & Teller fame). When Christopher discovers that said tryst took place in an Atlantic City ladies' room, he freaks out and starts getting angry. So angry, in fact, that the two of them end up engaged in a slap fight in the middle of the bedroom. I don't see why he's so upset. It's not like she said David Copperfield. Or David Blaine. Or even Sean Penn, Chris Penn, or the less successful, yet still non-mythical Michael Penn. It could be worse, is all I'm saying. Anyway, the hysteria is interrupted by a knock at the door, and Christopher pulls a pistol out of the nightstand before heading to answer it. It's just Paulie and Patsy Parisi, though, and they immediately come on in and make themselves right at home. Paulie calls out to Adriana, apologizing for the inconvenience, but he still makes her get dressed and come wait in the living room with Christopher. When Paulie spots the shoes, he remarks that his significant other is a size ten (and if it's still the girl with the kid from last season, he's even more wrong than Chris was), so he'll be taking his taste now, thank you very much. While he continues his search, Adriana is depressed at the thought of losing her free shoes (and by the way, my heavenly reference to just such an idea from two weeks ago is now starting to look positively prophetic). Chris looks up through the half-open door to the bedroom and catches Paulie sniffing his partner's panties (Chris's partner, not Paulie's, although the picture of Patsy Parisi in panties is pretty much priceless), and instantly gets quite peeved. After much internal debate (or as most people like to call it, "procrastination"), I've decided that "panties" is not a dirty word, and I should feel free to use it with impunity for the remainder of the recap. And while I've never partaken myself, I have spent enough time in college-dorm laundry rooms to know that Paulie isn't alone with that particular fetish.

JFK: You know, I once did that with Marilyn's panties.
David Chase: At least you didn't use a cigar.
JFK: I know. Dude, you're leader of the free world, and that's the best you could get? And don't even get me started on Paula Jones. It's an embarrassment to ex-Presidents everywhere.
David Chase: A bigger embarrassment than Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves?
JFK: Yeah, like that's even possible.

Speaking of dorms, here's Carmela at Columbia. Or perhaps it's another nod to Passover, since, as Sars so helpfully informed us, the exteriors are filmed at Baruch. Carmela knocks on Meadow's door, but there's no answer. She takes her handfuls of bags (including yet more laundry) to a nearby bench and sits down to wait. She looks desperately lonely, and if you listen to the words on the soundtrack, they spell out quite literally just how bad she's feeling. There's a very nicely done sad-Carmela montage, and then finally Meadow emerges from her room, looking positively Godot-like in her robe and PJs. It's actually more of a kimono than a robe, so I'm not going to count it for StR. They go back into her room, and Carmela runs down the list of all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and general slave-labor-like tasks she's performed for Meadow before complaining that the room reeks of smoke. If you take away the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, and the slave labor, she again sounds exactly like my mom. Meadow blames the smoke on Caitlin (and not very convincingly, either), and then they banter about books. In addition to the various themes at work in this week's recap, there's also a lot of alliteration in this week's iteration, although it's not intended to be allegorical or anything. Meadow gets even more snotty (yeah, like that's even possible) upon hearing of Carmela's lunch with the dean, and my Carmel-O-Meter pegs at the high end when she mocks Meadow right back. When Carmela mentions the "Noah thing," Meadow replies, "You call losing a wonderful man because of Dad a 'thing'?" Actually, yes, I do. A knee-deep-in-denial thing, but a thing nonetheless. Carmela calls her on it, and they fight over the "bullshit, accommodational pretense [she has] with Daddy." Carmela gives as good as she gets in this exchange, however, and Meadow finally backs down and looks away. Not enough milk. Too much shake.

Junior's Joint. He keeps pouring more and more milk into a blender which already contains a large glop ofsomething. With the crappy VCR and all, I can't make out exactly what, though. Ice cream? Free meat? Balsamic? Who knows? Except he forgets to put the lid back on before hitting the button, and ends up wearing most of his concoction. At this most inopportune moment, Tony walks in. As is typical of Junior's Walter Mitty-esque delusions of grandeur, he's instantly concerned that Tony was spotted by the crack squad of federal marshals assigned to ensure that Junior doesn't violate his parole. Tony assures him that he followed proper precautions, and then asks after Bobby Bacala, who's gone to the drug store to fetch "some more Pepto." He also tells Junior that he looks good, and then makes sure to let him know that anytime Junior wants his [unprintable (but quite enjoyable) sex act deleted], it's "just a phone call away." After that mental image, I need some more Pepto myself. Tony pours what's left in the blender into a glass for Junior, who laments that he still can't eat solid foods. See? I told you Bobby's question was a good one. Nobody mocks my Bobby Bacala. Well, nobody but me, that is. Junior inquires about the Pants situation (and haven't we all with this show at one time or another?), but Tony gently reminds him that he's "got enough in [his] blender already," and should mind his own business. But when Jr. mentions that the Dr. is putting him back under the knife, Tony immediately butts in and demands that he seek an eponymous, non-plastic second opinion. Junior displays a surprising affection for JFK (I always figured him as more of a Republican, but what do I know), and a not-at-all surprising streak of superstition when he reveals that Dr. Kennedy's name is the main reason he likes him so much. At this point, Bobby B returns, and Junior instantly busts him for eating White Castles, which I always thought was just a NY/NJ thing until I found one right here in Pittsburgh a few months ago. Tony offers to pull some strings (via Dr. Cusamano) to get Junior the best doctor in Manhattan. Junior agrees to this plan only if Tony comes along to "ask questions," this last directed with a glare towards Bobby B. Tony leaves, but not before planting a kiss on Junior's shiny bald dome. As soon as he's out the door, Junior vents to Bobby that Tony only wants to get him a new doctor to help hasten his demise, since Junior is the only thing standing between Tony and total control of New Jersey. Uh-huh. He also repeatedly refers to himself as a "[expletive deleted. AGAIN.] hair." "Oh, Junior, all this cynicism," laments Bobby, "It can't be good for you." Uh, sounds like I'd better schedule a physical. I'll be right back.

Carmela and Dean Ross stand at the bar of a posh NY eatery. The Dean oh-so-casually leans over to order in Italian, and then lets it slip that his family name is actually "Rossetti" and that he's a product of the New Jersey public-school system just like Carmela. I so know better than to make a crack about that one, people. Those size nines hurt. ["Don't look at me, I went to private school. Jersey public schools are allegedly pretty good, though." -- Sars] They trade alma maters (him Rutgers, her Montclair State, whence my cousin graduated). Dean Ross makes a toast to Meadow, and Carmela's eyes literally go wide with delight. He heaps even more praise (or, as I like to call it, "steaming piles of bullshit") on Meadow, but warns Carmela not to tell her, because "we don't want her overconfident." Even Carmela spots the irony in that one. She expresses relief that Meadow is adjusting well, especially since "she seems to sleep a lot." "They all do," sighs the Dean. I guess they don't work for MBTV, then.

Cut to Tony, striding across a suburban New Jersey lawn with a baseball bat in hand. When he reaches the Cadillac parked in the driveway, he smashes in the driver's side window and lays on the horn. A shocked Angie Bonpensiero runs out, and Tony lays down the law. Calmly, though, because he's "been working on [his] anger." He explains that he had originally planned to just ask her nicely not to spill her money troubles to Carmela, but when he saw the Caddy in the driveway, "it shot the whole plan." He gives it a few more whacks, and then steps back over and once again blames the whole sad situation on Pussy. The jokes are just too easy, people, so I'm not even gonna bother. As Angie looks on in terror, the fluffy, French Coco piece of shit (who HBO's official site describes as being "osteoporotic") hops out of her arms and starts sniffing around Tony. She anxiously tries to pull him away, apologizing all the while, but Tony is genuinely warm and friendly with the dog. He tells Angie to think twice before asking for more money again, and once he's sure his message has been received, he turns and walks peacefully away.

Back at the restaurant, Dean Ross goes on and on about all the quality family time he spends with the wife and kids. Carmela needs more wine. The Dean then launches straight into his sales pitch. He wants $50,000 for the new student center, and based on the Soprano's donations to Meadow's high school, he thinks they'd be interested. Carmela gladly accepts an information packet, but says she'll have to talk it over with her husband before she can commit. Cut to her doing just that while Tony gets ready for bed. "Fifty grand? You gotta be kidding me," he says. "This Jew prick is holding her hostage." When she informs him that Dean Ross is Italian, he amends his statement to "Jews with better food," and that HAS to be a Passover reference, because anything would be better than eating matzoh. For eight days straight. Although I do have to admit that while they possess neither the forbidden allure nor the whimsical potential for humor inherent in free meat, free peanuts are still damn tasty. Anyway, Tony won't go any higher than $5,000, which Carmela describes as "a slap in the face to these people." In a (purely metaphorical) slap to Carmela's face, Tony pulls five grand in cash out of his pants pocket and tosses it on the bed. And here I thought the Jews were supposed to have all the money.

Tony and Junior sit dazed and befuddled across from a fast-talking, emotionless New York doctor who recommends chemotherapy instead of surgery, except that it's still possible that Junior might need the surgery, too. Junior is worried that he's going to end up "puking [his] guts out, having the six hairs [he] still [have] left fall out, and still have to be cut again." I don't see why he's so upset. That's pretty much an average weekend for me. Junior whines that Doctor Kennedy never has all these "maybes and possibilities," and Robodoc suggests convening a "tumor board" so that all the docs can reach a consensus together. When he's assured that Doctor K will be there, Junior accepts the idea. In the elevator on the way out, Tony questions Junior's "JFK worship," especially because he went after Hoffa and the Teamsters. "That was the brother," responds Junior, and Tony's curiosity seems sated. Junior, however, doesn't seem too pleased with Tony. Given that the official site makes such a big deal out of the Angie-Dickinson/ratting-out-Tony dream, I'm beginning to have a second opinion of my own -- namely that Junior may be playing a much larger role this season than we might have thought.

JFK: I wouldn't mind giving that Angie Dickinson chick a missile crisis, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
David Chase: I just assumed you already had.
JFK: No, that was Bobby, too.
David Chase: Bouncer Bobby?
JFK: Shut up, David.

Strada privata di Soprano. Like daughter, like mother -- Carmela is smoking a cigarette. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: David Chase loves to mirror those two. When the phone rings, she excitedly answers, "Dr. Krakower?" It is in fact the good doctor (presumably the one Melfi recommended), and Carmela hastily makes the soonest possible appointment. Just as she hangs up, Tony "Roberto Clemente" Soprano emerges from the house, and she quickly hangs up. StR = 2,187, by the way. That's better than it has been, but still not up to "Employee of the Month" standards. See, I told you it was an accurate measurement of episode quality. Tony holds up a bottle of what I couldn't help but notice is Tropicana-brand orange juice, and angrily explains that he prefers the kind "with some pulp," as opposed to just plain pulp. I know how he feels. I'm the same way with my fiction. Carmela throws the phone at him and offers to make a list of all the reasons why, but before she can, AJ returns home from his trip. Carmela makes a big, embarrassing Mommy scene as she fawns all over him, but Tony just calmly asks how the trip went. When all AJ cares to mention is the Playstation 2 in the hotel room (yeah right, I'm still on a waiting list), Tony asks, "That was the sum total of your trip to our nation's capital?" All I remember from my high-school trip was the Burger King to the hotel, so I can sympathize with AJ on this one. ["Me too. All I remember is sitting around making fun of the new Def Leppard video." -- Sars] The kid picks up the phone and heads inside, leaving Tony to apologize for the OJ thing (and would that OJ himself could do the same). Carmela is still upset about the donation to Columbia, however, especially with all the money that Tony gives to Angie and "who knows what other widows on [his] payroll." Tony refuses to budge on this one, though, because he "knows too much about extortion."

Cut to Christopher and Tony, standing in a garage somewhere. Chris complains about the harassment from Paulie, but Tony is unsympathetic. He even goes so far as to make a gesture with his pinky to suggest the results of Christopher's strip search, and unlike his hand gestures from recaps, I'll just say that I don't identify with this one, and you can read my Bible recap for proof. Also, don't you think JFK would have made a much better pitchman for Viagra than Bob Dole? I mean, come on (pun so not intended on that one). Anyway, when Tony learns of the panty-sniffing incident, he's a bit taken aback. "Sometimes Paulie can be a littlequirky," he says. Amen to that. But it's a funny quirky, as opposed to a creepy quirky, so it's okay. Kinda like me. Tony informs Chris that he's moving up fast for a guy his age (which is not at all like me), so he needs to suck it up. Wow, I've been talking about myself a lot this week. This recap is turning into auto-hagiography, and I'm not even Canadian.

Over at the hospital, the tumor board is in full swing. There's lots of medical mumbo-jumbo, but when Doc Kennedy learns that Robodoc has gotten involved, he quickly agrees to go with chemo instead of surgery. Cut to Junior's Joint, where Bobby Bacala takes the news over the phone, and then to Junior, getting the actual treatment and whining for Doctor K.

Meanwhile, outside the Bing, Tony and Paulie are walking to their cars. Paulie complains that Tony is too easy on Christopher, but says he also understands having a soft spot for family. Tony tells him that he was out of line with the panty-sniffing because Christopher is planning to marry Adriana. Paulie refuses to apologize, but does promise that "as of the wedding day, anything that touches her pussy is off-limits." I think they should print that on the invitations. Also, does anyone else think we might be getting a Christopher/Adriana wedding to face off against Monica and Chandler during sweeps?

Back at Junior's Joint, Bobby B gamely helps the old man puke into the toilet. They emerge from the bathroom to find Tony, and Junior blames the whole sad situation on him. "Oh, right. I gave you cancer," is Tony's stone-faced reply. Junior complains that no matter what he tries (and he's tried pretty much everything), he can't get Doctor Kennedy to return his calls. Tony digests this bit of news, and then goes to call the Doc himself. When he gets the answering machine, Bobby Bacala worms his way even deeper into my heart with yet another utterance of "What are you gonna do?" I'm starting to think that the real-life David Chase just might sound a lot like he does in these recaps. Tony leaves a very friendly, yet somehow ominous, message, and Junior makes another mad dash for the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Chris is emerging from a motel somewhere with an anonymous young hooker, who's only notable character attribute is that she drives a sparkly purple Trans-Am. Chris is about to drive off himself in his non-sparkly Range Rover when he notices Paulie pulling up behind him. He gets out and climbs into Paulie's car for a chat. "You're not even married yet, and already you're dipping into whores," says Paulie, and the Soprano-standard pronunciation of "hoor" is almost as confusing as using "gabbagoo" for "cappicola." Chris, as usual, is indignant. "What is this, some new rule about who I fuck? You want more shoes too?" Oh, please God, no. And we know God reads the recaps, so maybe He'll listen, especially if I promise to eat all my matzoh. Paulie is shockingly uninterested in the shoes, looking positively downtrodden as he sighs, "I don't know why I thought she was a size ten." Then he yells at Chris for tattling to Tony, and reaches into the backseat to pull something out. Chris slyly tries to reach his ankle holster just in case, but Paulie grabs something way better than a gun -- it 's Big Mouth Billy Bass again, and the boys just stare and laugh as he sings "YMCA." I'm sitting here (somewhere over Virginia, by the way), wondering what the hell fish have to do with the YMCA. Was there a fisherman in the Village People? Do fish have bad taste in hotels? Couldn't they get the rights to "Beyond The Sea"? Anyway, Paulie and Chris continue to giggle like schoolgirls, albeit schoolgirls with horrible taste in home decoration.

Out on a golf course somewhere, Doctor Kennedy is preparing to hit an iron shot. "Watch and learn," he shouts again to his playing partners, but I sincerely hope he's not referring to his stance, because if I wanted golf tips, I'd still be watching the Masters. Before he can hit, however, Tony and Furio come careening down the fairway in a golf cart, skidding to a stop just in front of him. Tony hops off and presents the Doc with a driver that's wrapped with a red bow. When the Doc declines to accept, Tony points out that it's titanium, and that it "added ten yards to [his] drive." I bet Mustang Sally would have loved to have one of those. Tony refers to Furio as "Mr. Williams," and I just have to point out that the over-Tony's-shoulder shot they're using for close-ups on the doctor is perfectly composed. Furio calls golf a "stupid-a fucking game," and moves in imposingly towards the Doc, who starts backing up towards the water hazard behind him. "You know, there are worse things that can happen to a person than cancer," says Furio, and Tony just looks on and smiles. Tony explains Junior's superstitions, and Doc Kennedy is finally backed up all the way into the lake. "You gotta a bee on your head," mutters Furio, and he reaches out and biffs the Doc's hat into the lake. All hail Furio, King of the One-Line Laughs. I don't know if I'd like him better if they let him do more, because he's just perfect with the amount of screen time he gets now. "Show the man the respect he deserves," orders Tony (I thought I just did?), and Doc Kennedy nods his head in defeat. He pulls out a tape recorder and starts making a note to have his secretary call Junior, but before he can also start talking about the damn good pie, Tony knocks the recorder into the water as well. He and Furio hop back into the cart and drive off.

Best scene of the week, right here. Carmela is in Dr. Krakower's office, which seems much homier than Melfi's, especially with the giant fireplace. She's crying and complaining about all the problems in her marriage, and when Krakower asks if Tony is seeing another woman, she tells him, "You can make that plural." She mentions that she's considering divorce, and then asks, "I may be overstepping my bounds here, but you're Jewish, right?" Krakower admits that he is, and Carmela says, "Us Catholics, we place a great deal of strength in the sanctity of the family., and I don't know if you people" Dr. Krakower explains that he's been married for thirty-one years, and oddly enough, so have my parents, so I'd say "we people" are doing just fine. Carmela calls Tony a good man, but Krakower points out that "you just told me he was a depressed criminal. Is that your definition of a good man?" Carmela wants to be babied, but Krakower isn't having it. He refuses to give her easy answers, or let her blame things on her childhood: "That's psychiatry in America today. You can see it at the mall." She asks for his assurance that their conversation will remain confidential, and then explains that Tony's crimes are "organized." Then she gasps and starts crying again, as if she's never said it out loud before, and I bet she probably hasn't. Krakower stops her from walking out, and finally tells Carmela what she's probably needed to hear for quite a while. Not only does he refuse to accept payment in "blood money," but he insists that she leave Tony immediately, or "[she'll] never feel good about [herself]." He calls her Tony's accomplice, which Carmela disputes by saying that all she does is cook and clean for him. This prompts him to change "accomplice" to "enabler," but the message stays the same: "Take only the children, or what's left of them, and go." Carmela's priest told her to stay and try to make Tony a better person (and also maybe some nice pasta, so said priest can come over to watch a movie), but Krakower sarcastically volleys back, "How's that going?" He finally suggests turning Tony in so that he can spend a few years reading Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, and I'm actually kind of surprised David Chase didn't name the doctor Karamazov. Finally, he gives her one last piece of food for thought: "One thing you can never say -- that you haven't been told." My question, however, is that if this guy is such a mentor for Melfi, how come he's never had this same talk with her?

Junior is back to chemo, and he's also back to whining about it. Suddenly, Doc Kennedy breezes around the corner, saying "he's been busy," but that Junior has "a top guy here." Except I'm pretty sure the guy he's referring to is just an orderly, but Junior buys it hook, line, and IV needle, so everyone's happy. The Doc gives Junior his home phone number before heading off again, and a contented Junior leans back in his chair to finish the treatment.

Das Sopranohaus. Tony walks in to find Carmela stretched out asleep on the couch. He asks if she's feeling okay, and she replies, "Everyone else in this family sleeps all day. I thought I'd give it a try." Tony looks concerned (although not as concerned as he did about Melfi a few weeks ago), and asks if she's depressed. Carmela scores another snappy comeback with, "Don't you know the division of labor around here? That's your job." I like the way she thinks. I don't even have to write my own jokes for the recap anymore, since she's pretty much doing it for me here. Which is good, because after seven straight weeks, I think I might be running out. Tony timidly suggests that she try therapy on her own, but Carmela claims not to have the time. She will, however, continue going to Melfi with Tony, presumably because Melfi is content to actually be an enabler for her and Tony, rather than just calling Carmela one. She tells Tony that she told the Dean yes on the fifty thousand, and Tony, sensing that she's serious about this, offers to go as high as ten. "Tony, you gotta do something nice for me today," she says. "This is what I want." Tony is silent for a long moment, but then finally nods, giving in. "You look like you could use a night off from cooking," he tells her. "What do you say we go out?" And with that, she rises off the sofa, wraps the blanket around herself, and they slowly make their way upstairs together.

David Chase: So, this is Hyannis Port? Nice. The bar is very well-stocked.
JFK: Thanks. Teddy's a connoisseur.
David Chase: You know what would make this place better, though?
JFK: Little hookers giving little blowjobs?
David Chase: Well, yeah, but I was thinking a plastic, singing fish. You can order them right off the TV, you know.
JFK: How about a plastic, singing little hooker instead?
David Chase: Ooh, I like the way you think. No wonder I voted for you.

Ladies and gentlemen, we're now beginning our final descent into Newark International Airport. Those of you with connecting flights to other shows should check the homepage for departure times, and we hope you've enjoyed flying Mighty Big Airlines, the only airline where Dawson's Creek is considered an acceptable in-flight movie. We hope to see you again soon.