For All Debts Public And Private

On a brisk, clear September evening, at the height of the First Crusade and precisely nine-hundred and six years before the fourth season premiere of The Sopranos, the Rabbi Amnon of Mainz was summoned to appear before the local bishop, where he was commanded to renounce his Judaism and profess allegiance to the one true faith of Christianity. Reb Amnon, who was known throughout Germany for his wisdom and piety, requested that he be granted three days in which to make a decision. The Bishop relented, and Amnon returned to his home in Mainz, where he was quickly overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and remorse for having even appeared to consider betraying his faith in God and the Torah. Thus, when the three days expired, and his refusal to convert became known, the local bishop -- a man who quite likely could have convinced Tony to come to church more often -- ordered that Reb Amnon's hands and feet be severed as punishment. Dispirited and dismembered, the gravely wounded Rabbi made one final Yom Kippur appearance before his congregation, and in the midst of Kol Nidre services he composed with his dying breath the Unetaneh Tokeh, a prayer of such raw power and spirituality that that it remains even today the climactic component in the liturgy of the Jewish High Holy Days. "B'Rosh Hashanah y'kateivun, u'v'Yom tzom Kippur y'chateimun," it reads. "On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it shall be sealed: How many shall pass away and how many shall be born; who shall live, and who shall die; whose life cut short, and whose life lived full."

And so it is here upon this auspicious near-millennial anniversary, on the holiest night of the Hebrew calendar, that David Chase has elected at long last to debut his much anticipated new season. Given the man's well-known predilection for inscribing the fate of the entire year in the first episode, it somehow seems so fitting. And so what fate shall be sealed for the Sopranos? Or even The Sopranos, for that matter. Who shall live, and who shall die? Whose life cut short, and whose lived full? Christopher's? Ralphie's? Paulie's? Melfi's? And what of Mr. Chase and the show itself? Will they prosper in the ratings and the glow of God's love, or will he face the same forlorn fate as Farscape producer and fellow David (Kemper), who saw his promised fifth season evaporate before the fourth had even finished? The early returns look good, but if our time on this Earth has taught us anything, it's that God and Sunday Nights on HBO quite often work in very mysterious ways.

"Unetaneh tokef kedushat hayom, ki hu norah v'ayom." "Let us proclaim the sacred power of this day, because it is awesome and full of dread."

David Chase: So, didja miss me?
Aaron: I'm sorry, do I know you?
David Chase: My name is David Chase. I'm a TV show producer.
Aaron: Oh, yeah! So, like, whatever happened to you?
David Chase: Well, see, this radiation wave hit, right? And I got shot through a wormhole.
Aaron: Uh huh.
David Chase: And then I was lost in some distant part of the universe. On a ship, a living ship, actually, full of strange alien life-forms. For a while, I was being hunted by an insane military commander. Then I got cloned.
Aaron: Get out. Now.
David Chase: But then you'll never know the wonders I have seen.

Yeah. Sohi. How's everyone been doing? It's been a while, I know. And when you couple the months of unfulfilled anticipation with the fact that I haven't eaten anything in close to twenty-four hours, well, let's just say this should be a very interesting recap. So let's get on with it, shall we?

Previously on The Sopranos: Damn, that's a lot of "previously." For the record, Johnny Sack is in almost every scene. Boon is big. Root causes are discussed, as are esplanades and permanent expulsions. And aww, there's the Little Lord. We miss ya, you dumb poo ass.

We open this year on a tightly cropped shot of Carmela reading a newspaper at her kitchen table. Given the prominence of its logo (which occupies half the frame), I can only assume that the New York Times has at some point recently become the property of AOL Time Warner. The story she's reading deals with the Italian Supreme Court's decision that "influence peddling" is an acceptable business practice that reflects the Italian version of the "Protestant work ethic." In other words, bribery is a cultural norm. She further points out that the case before the court concerned a clerk who took a gift in exchange for speeding up someone's trial. His price? "Eighty-eight pounds of fish." Yes, but were they plastic singing fish?

Meanwhile, Tony is outside returning us to the cool, calm comfort of the familiar, as he once again opens the season by fetching the paper in his robe. StR = 37. That's going to be tough to beat for the rest of the season, but if anyone can do it, it's Tony. I have faith in the robe. On the other hand, what's truly frightening about this scene is the thought that he might actually be reading this. I'm not sure which scares me more: the thought of Tony knowing where I live, or the thought of TWoP readers knowing where I live. ["You don't live in the Newark Star-Ledger's sphere of influence, so I wouldn't worry about it overly." -- Sars] Anyway, the soundtrack blasts Time Zone's 1983 song "World Destruction," which actually serves to bookend the episode with lyrics that prove to be frighteningly accurate in predicting the future. A quick check determines that the song was written by former Sex Pistol Johnny Lyndon and "Godfather of Hip-Hop" Afrika Bambaataa, and not, as one might expect, Quasimodo.

Now I'm not dumb, but I can't understand why Fairuza Balk was replaced out of hand. But I'm not real worried about it, because as we cut over to our intrepid FBI agent's home, Lola Glaudini and her ample red-bra encased cleavage are bending over to pick up a crying baby boy. Lola smiled and took him by the hand, and said, "Little boy, gonna make you a man." Well, okay, she actually just holds him for a moment before the phone rings, but it would have been way funnier my way. Lola's shoulder-holster-wearing husband answers the phone, and explains that Lola is unable to talk because she's working undercover for the government. Wow. So much for operational security. I think I'm beginning to understand why people are so critical of our intelligence agencies in this country.

Back at Chez Soprano, Tony is returning to the house with his paper when he's suddenly distracted by some rustling shrubbery near the pool. Is it an FBI surveillance team? A capo with with bladder control problems? The Knights who say "Ni"? Nope. Tony, however, is clearly hoping for ducks, which is why he's quite disappointed when it turns out to be nothing more than a squirrel. I'm sure Bullwinkle often felt exactly the same way.

Inside, Carmela is still going on about the Italy story in the paper. In other news, AJ is still stupid. It's good to know some things never change. Tony finally enters, and Carmela explains that the newspapers are part of AJ's social studies class at whatever new school the Plot-Device Fairy managed to get him enrolled in after last season's military school fiasco. "You passing social studies?" inquires an angry Tony. "You just reveal your own ignorance," replies AJ, as I cringe in anticipation of the massive head-smack my mother is about to deliver. Oh, wait. AJ said that, not me. Thank God. Tony smacks him one anyway, in solidarity with my mom, and then quickly moves to reconcile with his son by handing over the paper's automotive section, which features a full-color spread on various sports cars. Incidentally, Robert Iler's marijuana bust has apparently allowed for a munchies-free off-season, because the boy is looking noticeably slimmer this year. Carmela, meanwhile, is futzing around with the oven when she hears a knock at the front door. She quickly fixes her hair and puts on a big smile, only to be disappointed when the new arrival turns out to be Christopher. It seems she was expecting someone else, and that someone else turns out to be Furio. Hmm. Seeing as how David Chase has not yet been infected with Alan Ball's endless fondness for the word "fuck," I've decided to establish a Foreshadowing Coefficient instead (FS² = 1). Anyway, Christopher explains that he's there to drive Tony, and Tony treats him with predictable rudeness.

Cut to the car, where both Tony and Christopher display an irrational (yet understandable) fear of Chevrolets. They also bicker about the fact that while Furio has the day off, Christopher has been reduced to serving as Tony's driver once again. Tony remains mysterious about his motives for wanting Christopher with him, and also takes advantage of this opportunity to reveal a little back-story about Papa Moltisanti. Chris's dad was a "stand-up guy," who once took on a whole crew from New England and brought the war home to their turf. Wow. Who knew Drew Bledsoe was Christopher's father? Spotting yet another Chevy in the rearview mirror, Chris becomes concerned that they're being followed until Tony notices that the car is full of nuns. "Might be undercover Feds," he snarks. "But I doubt it."

It looks like the Ironic Segue Fairy has just flown back from his extended vacation in England with the Couch Baron, and boy, are his arms tired. How else to explain the rather weak and unsurprising cut to Lola the Undercover Fed teasing her hair all Jersey-style. As the baby continues to cry, she comes over to comfort him with these words: "Girls will be Feds, and Feds will be recast. It's mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world, except for Lola. L-O-L-A Lola."

Doctor's office. Tony, Christopher, Uncle Junior, Bobby Bacala, and Wacky Old Guy are seated in the waiting room. Given what comes later in the episode, do you really think it's a good idea for them all to be hanging out there like that? They're even speaking in Italian, for God's sake. An attractive young nurse arrives to lead them to them back to an exam room, and Uncle Junior delivers a hilarious full-court press as he flirts with her along the way. The nurse, whom I'll call Hot Lips due to my fondness for M*A*S*H and the fact that she has, well, hot lips, accepts this flirtation with the bemused air of someone who's simply too tired to bother with a sexual harassment lawsuit. When Tony passes by, however, she favors him with a significantly sultrier look, which for me all but seals her role as the unnamed informant we learn about later in the episode.

Alone at last in the exam room, Tony goes straight for the scale (FS² = 2) while Uncle Junior launches into a diatribe about his legal expenses. It's quite comical, and way too long to transcribe in full, but the highlight comes when Junior complains about the "fucking Lexis fees" and "the Xeroxing." "An entire forest in the Northwest must have given its life in Xerox paper just for this one fucking trial," he shouts. "I said to Mel, can't we just have one fucking meeting and all read from the same sheet of paper? Pass it around?" Hee! Of course, you shouldn't laugh too hard. We might have to run TWoP like that someday. Junior begs Tony for some additional money to help cover his expenses, and Tony quite coldly refuses. As Junior storms out, we see Dr. Lurkowitz standing nearby, checking out some X-rays. He gives Tony a quick little nod as the scene ends.

And just when I thought I would never have to type "Bonpensiero" again, they pull me back in. Carmela is at the grocery store, where she spots Angie passing out samples of nitrate-free sausage. She quickly backs away before being spotted, and an excessively long tracking shot reveals that Snackwells will likely be this season's new Snapple.

Maison de Moltisanti. Lola and Adriana are gabbing about the various eccentricities of Versace flatware when Christopher comes home carrying a handful of ugly designer luggage. "Ugly" is of course a relative term in this case, especially when you consider that Adriana is voluntarily wearing a sky-blue velour pantsuit with white spiked-heel boots. Those of you brave enough to ponder the off-season timeline continuity of this show should take a moment here to try to determine whether or not it's after Labor Day at this point. Chris is in a pretty foul mood, which isn't helped either by the presence of Lola or by the incredibly annoying barking of Adriana's "pocket rat" of a dog. Lola tries to defuse the situation by saying she has to leave so she can get up early the morning, and Christopher scores the best zinger of the episode with, "No matter how much the john pays you?" Bwah! A wide shot of her departure reveals a sweet-looking blue lava lamp on the buffet, which almost makes up for the ludicrous (yet utterly appropriate) leopard-print wine glasses that Adriana owns. Before Lola's even out the door, Christopher collapses on the bed, quickly strips off a sock, and begins preparing to shoot up. As he cooks his smack, he relates his bad day with Tony, including the fact that Tony mentioned Papa Moltisanti just so Christopher could "be compared all negatively." Adriana is quick to sympathize, though it's worth noting that she's not quite as tempted by the drugs as he is. Christopher continues his woe-is-me litany of work problems, referring to his boss as "Pope Tony the Twenty-Third" and exclaiming, "When the fuck have I ever not been there a hundred percent?" just as he injects heroin between his toes. He shudders with pleasure as the drug flows through his veins, and despite his earlier assurances that he's "just chipping" and that everything is "under control," it seems pretty clear that it's not.

Chez Soprano. Tony stands at the kitchen counter, assembling the fixings for what appears to be an absolutely epic hot-fudge sundae. Hmm. Do I detect a subtle metaphor for addiction here? I think perhaps I do. And furthermore, as an example of the type of compositional craftsmanship that makes me love this show so much, the only part of Tony we even see here is his gut. This also explains why David Chase is so damn slow, because it probably took them three hours just to line up that one five-second shot. Anyway, Tony makes his way over to the living room, where a cowboy that I'm just going to assume is Roy Rogers is crooning a ballad on TV. At one point the lyrics to his song include the phrase "Just my rifle, pony, and me," although on my first hearing I thought he said "My rifle, TONY, and me" which is sadly a fairly accurate description of the contents of my apartment now that I'm back to recapping. Tony's soon joined by Carmela, who sits down beside him and asks if they can have a little chat. Tony gets that familiar "little boy busted" look in his eyes, and sadly agrees to the sit-down.

It seems that Carmela is worried about their finances, and especially about what might happen to her and the children should a tragic fate befall Tony. His simple declaration that she's "set in perpetuity" isn't enough to mollify her, and she continues to press the subject, even mentioning the fact that she saw Angie Bonpensiero at the supermarket earlier. When he reminds her that knowing too much about the family finances could make Carmela an accomplice, she hangs her head in both the knowledge that he's right and the shame in seeing what her life has become. Tony, however, is just starting to get worked up at this point. "Jesus Christ, Carmela," he snarls. "I been busting my pick all day long to bring home the money you're so concerned about, and I thought maybe I could have a sundae and zone out in front of the friggin' TV, because A, you're right, my job is EXTREMELY STRESSFUL" He trails off, realizing that his anger is misplaced, and I'm left to realize that James Gandolfini is the best damn slurrer I've ever seen. Well, maybe Dean Martin, but still. Carmela wants to start doing some retirement planning and asset allocation, and suggests that they use her cousin Brian Camarrata to take care of it. Tony insists that his income can't be declared, and also assures her that he's not keeping cash just lying around the house anymore. "I provide for my children," he declares, and Carmela agrees with him. "Yes, Tony, you do. But I don't know how you do it because you won't tell me. Well, let me tell YOU something -- or you can watch the fucking news -- everything comes to an end!" And with that, she stomps off, leaving a chastened Tony to realize that she just might be right. Of course, we're still twenty-five episodes away from that end, so I don't think it's anything we really need to be worried about right now.

Bada Bing. And hey, there's Bouncer Bob! Hi, Bouncer Bob! After the maid, Bouncer Bob is totally my favorite tertiary character. The real fun here starts when Tony spies Bob dumping out a bucket of ice, and immediately gets in his face about wasting inventory. The ensuing argument is a perfect little comic gem, with Silvio's facial expressions and Bouncer Bob's stupidity combining to leave me giggling like a helpless schoolgirl. It's mostly memorable for the part where Tony asks Bob if he thinks ice grows on trees. Well, that and the part where Tony kicks his ass with a metal bucket while calling him "John D. Rockefeller" and shouting at him to be a better conservationist. Oh, and don't forget the part where the stripper is cleaning the dancing pole behind them. Hee! I've missed this show more than I thought I would.

Anyway, Silvio leads Tony out back, where they meet up with Christopher and walk across a small wooded area to a warehouse. Inside, there's a meeting of capos underway. The crew consists of Ray Curto, Joey Pants, "Ally-Boy" Barese, and Familiar Guy Whose Name I Don't Know. Hey, where's Paulie? Gee, I sure hope he didn't have to go get back surgery or anything. That would suck. Oh, and despite his newly "made" status, Christopher is surprisingly forced to wait outside with Wide Guy. Aww, hi, Wide Guy. We missed you, too. Inside, Tony is delivering the Soprano version of a pep talk: "I want to know why the zero growth in this family's receipts," he demands. "Where's the fucking money?!?" He goes on in this vein for a while, pointing out that Uncle Junior, the supposed boss of the family, is on trial for his life. Of course, when Tony claims to be the only one supporting Junior, Joey Pants gives a little "here we go again" look that perfectly encapsulates his character's position in the family. That's another thing I love about this show. Aaron Sorkin would have written that look as a four-page pedeconference. "This thing is a pyramid, since time immemorial," continues Tony. "Shit runs downhill. Money goes up. It's that simple. I should not have to be coming around here, hat in my hand, reminding you about your duty to the family." He then asks Silvio to "break it down" for us. "What two businesses have traditionally been recession-proof since time immemorial?" Silvio's answer? "Certain aspects of show business, and our thing." Hee! I wonder if recapping is one of those aspects.

Chez Soprano. It's morning once again, and AJ grabs a slice of pizza out of the fridge for breakfast. Meanwhile, Meadow stumbles downstairs in her PJs and reports that not only has she blown off church and an opportunity to schedule her classes for the semester, but she also won't be attending dinner that night so she can go to a back-to-school party. If you feel like yelling "Shut up, Meadow" at her, you better do it quick, because this is the only time you'll see her all week. Gee, I sure hope she didn't have to go marry her manager or anything. That would suck. I mean, just ask Mariah Carey, right? Carmela also reports that there's a loose shelf in the garage, and Tony quickly jumps up to go investigate. Since he's certainly never been one to take an interest in household maintenance in the past, I'm not at all surprised to discover that the real reason for his concern is a bag full of cash that he's got hidden in the family car. He quickly retrieves the bag, sneaks around back, and hides the money beneath a loose floor tile in the pool house. Well, I suppose that's better than a ceiling vent, but not by much.

Back inside, AJ asks if he can bring a friend to dinner that night, which gives Carmela the perfect opportunity to exposit that Rosalie and Joey Pants will attending as well, just in time for Tony to come in and hear her doing it. He's obviously not pleased about having Pants in his home (though I do note that he is at least wearing a pair in this scene), but Carmela insists that they planned the evening long ago, and that ever since The Little Lord's untimely death, Rosalie has seemed sort of "down."

Actually, she seems more "stoned" than anything else. It's now later, at the actual dinner party, and Rosalie is totally zoned out in her chair as Joey Pants "entertains" the assembled guests with an anecdote about a motorcycle he once owned. After insulting Jews, doctors, and Porsche owners, he finishes with a punch-line that makes only Janice actually laugh. AJ's new friend Matt seems to be interested as well, however, which only makes me miss Egon more. Why hast thou forsaken us, Egon? Janice continues to giggle and fling herself at Joey, and I can't help but notice that a number of people in the forums seem to believe Joey was sitting much closer to Janice than he was to Rosalie. In fact, they're just about equidistant, but Janice and Joey are always shown in a two-shot, whereas Rosalie only ever appears in close-up. This creates the illusion of closeness, and is yet another trick of the trade on display in this episode courtesy of Allen Coulter. At this point Joey excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and the subject turns to Carmela's father's exploits during World War II. "Did you see any action?" inquires Janice. "A little bit," he answers, before adding, "I was stationed in Nova Scotia." Ahh yes, the epic battle of Nova Scotia. That one made Joe Kavalier's Antarctic adventure seem almost tame by comparison. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and in walk Adriana and Lola, who by the way looks quite fetching in a tank top with a large portion of the area over her breasts cut out. I'm not kidding. I think I see nipple. Adriana explains that she just wants to borrow a plot device for her cousin's baby shower, and Tony joins me in leering at the new girl. Now I'm not the world's most passionate guy, but when I looked a foot below her eyes, I almost fell for my Lola. N-I-P-S, Lola.

Upstairs, Joey Pants is preparing a line of coke in the bathroom when he's interrupted by a knock at the door. After repeatedly trying to convince the person to use the downstairs bathroom, he finally opens the door to reveal Janice. She scampers in, and quickly does a hit of coke herself. They chat about Rosalie for a moment, and Janice actually manages to fully redeem herself in my eyes by quoting from my favorite short story of all time. "Ah, Bartleby. Ah, humanity," she sighs. Damn. Melville jokes are always funny. Back downstairs, Lola is being given the grand tour by a suddenly more lively Rosalie, but we quickly cut back to the bathroom, and before I can even attempt to shield my eyes, Janice and Joey are suddenly making out. Dear God in Heaven, please let his hand not be where I think it is, because, ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew ewwy ew. I'm sure there's a "digital cable" joke I could be making here, but when it comes to watching these two fool around, all I can say is, "I would prefer not to." Down at the table, Tony notices how long they've both been gone (FS² = 3), and Carmela's father continues to babble about Nova Scotia.

Cut to a strip mall somewhere, which features a restaurant named "Italianissimo," and a pet store with the improbable name "Wild Bird Center." Of course, I got pretty badly burned on "Fountains of Wayne" last season, so far be it from me to complain about over-accurately named business establishments. In the foreground we see Councilman Boon stepping out of his car, and then in the background, Tony emerges from the Wild Bird Center with a dozen bags of duck food. He then walks over to Italianissimo, where he joins Boon for a light snack and a discussion about a potential real-estate deal that could make them both rich. Boon explains that the urban sprawl of New York City is encroaching further and further into the Jersey hinterlands, and that anyone smart enough to buy up property on a "Frelinghuysen Avenue" will likely be rewarded when a new Galleria is built on the site. "I'm borrowing money myself to buy parcels through a shell company," he says. "And a private citizen like yourself? Who's going to quibble with patriotic entrepreneurism?" Well, probably the IRS, for starters, but that's a story for another episode. Speaking of which, who else got the sense that Boon is planning to screw Tony over on this one? FS² = 4, perhaps? Oh, and only because it's been a topic of much discussion, I can confirm for you that the woman who briefly walks into the restaurant behind them is NOT Gloria Trillo. In fact, it's probably just David Chase's PA, or some other on-set lackey who got roped into providing background filler.

Dr. Lurkowitz's office. The gang's all here again, including Hot Lips, who brings Junior and Tony back to the same exam room as last time. This time Uncle June suggests that once he's fully recovered, the two of them could make a journey to "that city called Atlantic." "Thank you, but I don't gamble," replies Hot Lips. "With me it's never a gamble," answers Junior. Heh. The man always did have a way with the ladies. Hot Lips mentions that it's her last day on the job, and Junior is crushed to learn that she's going back to school. Once alone, however, he and Tony quickly turn to business. Junior wants to promote Bobby Bacala (yay!), because Wacky Old Guy can no longer run his operations while Junior is on trial. Tony thinks it's a great idea, and calls Bobby in to deliver the good news. We get one final shot of Dr. Lurkowitz watching them, and then Tony slams the door in our faces.

And then he pours duck food all over us. Or more accurately, all over another huge pile of cash. He's stashing it in the bags he bought at the Wild Bird Center, and just barely manages to get them locked away in a storage bin before he's caught by Carmela. "A little late in the season for ducks, no?" she asks. "Well, not necessarily," he replies. "You know, the ones from upper Canada, this is the south to them." Bwah! Best line of the night. Of course, as much as it pains me to say this, hiding your cash in a bag of bird seed is probably still a better investment than buying stock in AOL Time Warner. What? Me, bitter? Never.

Hey! It's Paulie! Woo-hoo! He's in prison somewhere, and the orange jumpsuit he's wearing is making his white-walls appear even whiter than normal. Noticing the time on a nearby wall-clock, he quickly jumps up and races an inmate I'll call Notabisi to the only available phone. Paulie wins the race, and carefully dials up Johnny Sack, who's enjoying a nice cup of tea in a restaurant overlooking Manhattan. They exchange pleasantries, and Johnny Sack cleverly pretends not to know why Paulie is in jail, thus driving the wedge between Paulie and Tony even deeper, and also allowing for us in the audience to be given the necessary exposition. David Chase is nothing if not efficient. Anyway, it turns out that Paulie went down to Youngstown, Ohio to visit a friend, and ended up getting busted on a weapons charge because of a pistol that was found in their car during a trip to Dean Martin's birthplace. I went to Youngstown to visit a friend once. That whole town is worse than a prison. And oddly enough, I actually ended up attending Catholic school there for day. I even learned how to say the Lord's Prayer in French, and let me tell you, that one went over like a lead balloon during Yom Kippur services last night. Anyway, Paulie whines about his situation a bit more, but all I can focus on is the fact that his pompadour is actively defying all known laws of physics. The hair actually appears to be floating about an inch above his scalp. It'svery bizarre. Paulie thanks Johnny again for taking an interest in his plight, but before he can continue, he catches sight of another inmate trying to change the station on the TV. "Leave that!" he shouts before hanging up. "Don't touch that! My program is coming on." Heh. You want to know the difference between The Sopranos and Six Feet Under? On SFU, his "show" would have been Oz.

Alan Ball: Dude, they're in prison! I can't believe you passed up the chance to show gay sex!
David Chase: I can't believe you're gonna have an Oscar, an Emmy, and a Golden Globe, and I still don't have dick.
Alan Ball: Come on, it's Hollywood. You know that. These people are genetically predisposed to like hot young gay undertakers way more than fat, brooding mobsters.
David Chase: Yeah, I know. But I'm busting my ass over here to make an intelligent, adult show, and then you waltz in with the talking corpses and the Bong-Cam scenes and suddenly everyone likes you better. Now I'm like the mean, old disciplinarian to your wacky, carefree young aunt.
Alan Ball: You're the liar to my whore.
David Chase: I'm the Cheney to your Chomsky.

Chez Soprano. Carmela wanders through the kitchen, picking up a ringing phone as she goes. It's Tony, and he explains that he has to work late again. Carmela is miffed as usual, and even more so when she has to turn off the stove, upon which rests a huge bubbling vat of tomato sauce. Meanwhile, Tony's "work" turns out to be a party with the bosses, as he, Joey Pants, Johnny Sack, Christopher, and Carmine are discussing business in a hotel suite. When Furio wanders in with half a dozen stewardesses from Icelandic Air, Carmine takes that as his cue to leave. Before he goes, however, he mentions that Johnny Sack attended a barbecue at Tony's house, and he sternly reminds Tony that "a don doesn't wear shorts." There's just so much that's great about that little bit, because it establishes the tension between Tony and Johnny, mirrors the mentor/trainee dynamic that Tony and Christopher have going this week, and even addresses an issue that David Chase has complained about since they erroneously portrayed Tony wearing shorts in Season One. That, my friends, is quality writing. Tony takes this smackdown in stride (but just barely), and heads over to introduce himself to the ladies by making a very bad joke about their hometown.

Fade to later, where Tony is watching two of the stewardesses going at it on a bed. Ahh, there's the gratuitous female nudity I've been missing for so long. Breasts are always more fun when the character they're attached to is actually alive. And not Brenda. And besides, if I can't have commercials to break up the recapping, I think I at least deserve some titties, don't you? Which reminds me that another thing I love about this show is the ability it frequently affords me to engage some of my baser instincts. As he watches, Tony takes a huge puff on his cigar. Well now, that's not just a little Freudian, is it? In the suite's bathroom, a half-naked Christopher sits on the toilet, rolling a heroin joint for his own half-naked Icelandic companion to smoke. They're suddenly interrupted by Tony pounding on the door, and Christopher quickly flushes the joint down the toilet before leaving with Tony. As they exit, we're unfortunately treated to a completely unnecessary shot of Joey Pants's hairy, pantless ass. Of course, the brown socks and flight attendant's cap he's wearing almost make up for it. I said "almost."

A very stoned-looking Christopher is driving Tony somewhere in his Range Rover. Tony continues trying to mentor the boy, but all Christopher can focus on is that Tony clearly seems to be out to get him. A frustrated Tony barks out some directions, then falls silent.

Speaking of silent, Uncle Junior and Wacky Old Guy are asleep on Junior's sofa. As always, the video playing on the TV perfectly complements the action on screen. Wacky Old Guy finally gets up to go home, but the phone rings before he can make it out the door. Junior wakes up, and rudely demands that the phone be answered. Wacky Old Guy (whom I'm considering renaming, because I've just discovered that abbreviating his title creates an unfortunate ethnic slur) speaks to the caller for a moment before hanging up and relaying the conversation to Junior. It seems that the FBI has had a mole at Dr. Lurkowitz's office for several months now, and when Wacky Old Guy mentions that said mole has just been called back to testify, Junior immediately makes the connection to Hot Lips. With a depressed sigh, uncle June collapses back onto the sofa.

Back in the Range Rover, Tony has Christopher pull over in a parking lot across the street from a diner. The restaurant's front wall is all glass, so it's easy to see inside. What's not easy is understanding why one of the guys in there is wearing a Hawaiian lei and a pirate hat. Of course, when it comes to pirates, understanding isn't actually necessary. Everyone loves pirates. Well, everyone except baseball fans, that is. Anyway, Tony explains that the Diner Pirate is one "Barry Haydu, Detective Lieutenant in the Clifton police force." He's also supposedly the man who killed Christopher's father. Dun dun DUN! Now, according to the legend Christopher heard, his father was once in prison with a man named Jilly Rufalo. Jilly stabbed Papa Moltisanti's cellmate to death, so when he got out, Pops tracked down Jilly and poked out his eye. Detective Haydu then performed the Moltisanti hit at Jilly's behest, and killed Pops on his own front porch as he was bringing home a crib for Baby Christopher. Which is all well and good, except for the fact that Tony informs us that it wasn't actually a crib. "He had a bunch of TV trays he was carrying," he explains. "Could have been a crib just as easily." There's also a fairly significant continuity problem here with some things we've already been told about Chrissy's childhood, but that's been discussed to death in the forums, so I'll leave it alone. Chris, meanwhile, is just mesmerized by the fact that he's actually looking at his father's executioner. "Is that him?" he shouts. "With the sombrero?" Heh. Tony goes on to describe how crooked of a cop Haydu actually was, and also points out that his usefulness to the family ended with his retirement, which is precisely what is being celebrated in the diner. He hands over a slip of paper bearing an address, and a shell-shocked Christopher realizes that his opportunity to avenge his father may come sooner than he thinks.

Suburbia. A drunken Detective Haydu pulls up in his car to the strains of "Lady Marmalade" (original recipe). He makes his way into the house, and manages to tunelessly sing, "Hey Joe, wanna give it a go?" before Christopher pistol-whips him across the back of the head. After a long, creative, focus-pulling shot allows him time to regain consciousness, the Daddy-Killing Diner Pirate wakes up to find himself handcuffed to a banister while Christopher reclines on his couch, smoking a cigarette and watching Magnum P.I.. There's some banter in the usual "I'm about to kill you" vein, and then Christopher scores yet another zinger by calling the former Mrs. Daddy-Killing Diner Pirate "a real vile twat" for cleaning the guy out in their divorce settlement. Since this is The Sopranos, there's also a giant stuffed fish mounted on the wall. Of course, if this were Six Feet Under, that would have been a picture of one of the cast members pissing. Or possibly a giant bong. The scene ends with the DKDP denying any knowledge of either Jilly Rufalo or Papa Moltisanti.

At yet another diner, Tony and Bobby Bacala are sitting down for a late-night snack. Bobby is eating a steak with onion rings. Tony is having scrambled eggs with no oil and tomato slices. Heh. Only The Sopranos could ever make me laugh at a shot of a guy putting salt on his eggs. They discuss Bobby's promotion, and the big guy actually displays some backbone by claiming that it was long overdue. This, of course, inspires Tony to further coat his own backbone with cholesterol and nitrates by ordering a steak for himself. At this point the conversation delves into the show's only outright acknowledgement of September 11th, with Bobby bemoaning the fact that his mother "really went downhill after the World Trade Center." Of course, in the show's own inimitable style, Bobby quickly follows that up with, "You know, Quasimodo predicted all this." Bwah! Tony steps in to establish the difference between Quasimodo and Nostradamus, and then further elucidates between Nostradamus and Notre Dame. "It's interesting, though, they'd be so similar, isn't it?" wonders a not-at-all bashful Bobby. "And I always thought, okay, Hunchback of Notre Dame. You also got your quarterback and running back of Notre Dameit's interesting, the coincidence. What, you gonna tell me you never pondered that?" Bwah again! But then -- what about the fullback of Notre Dame? And the punter who kicks to the touchbacks of Notre Dame? And let's not forget the track team, which probably also carries the camelbacks of Notre Dame. I'm just saying. Tony sighs in frustration, and I'm reminded yet again that every time he tries to get close to someone, he's somehow stymied by the conversation. And whenever someone wants to get close to him, he's always too angry to realize it. Hey, wait a second. Why am I psychoanalyzing Tony? Oh, yeah. There hasn't been any Melfi yet. Well, where the hell is she? This shit ain't easy, you know.

And now back to Christopher. The DKDP tries any number of strategies to convince Chris not to kill him, but all of them fail miserably. Continuing with his Sipowicz-style interrogation, Chris asks, "Are you inferring that you didn't take cash from Jilly Rufalo to whack my father while he was carrying a TV tray for me to watch TV?" Heh. It's nice how he just worked that tidbit into his mental image of the whole event. It's true to Chris's character ["especially, in my opinion, Chris mixing up 'infer' and 'imply'" -- Sars], and it still makes Papa Moltisanti look like a much better person than he probably really was. The DKDP continues to insist that he's innocent, and that whoever sent Christopher to his house is just trying to set him up. "It wouldn't make any difference," sighs Christopher. "He wants you dead." And now the preparations for the killing begin in earnest, as Chris switches over to the DKDP's service pistol, and cranks up the volume on the TV. The Daddy-Killing Diner Pirate makes a desperate attempt to break free from the banister, and when he does, he dives behind the sofa. Um, why? Is there another gun back there? A safe, perhaps? Or does this guy think upholstery can stop bullets (and while we're on the subject, who else wants to see Vern try to make a Kevlar love seat)? Nothing helps, however, and Christopher dispatches the putative pop-killer with two shots to the head.

With Magnum P.I. still blaring all ironically in the background, a semi-dazed Chris then staggers around the living room a bit before firing another shot into the giant fish on the wall. Hmm. You know, Joss Whedon has his father issues, and Alan Ball has a fondness for sassy teen-age redheads, but it's David Chase's fish fetish that really keeps me up at night. I'm not sure why that is. Christopher does an absolutely horrible job of cleaning up the crime scene (FS² = 5), but he's really more concerned with the fact that the guy only has a single twenty-dollar bill in his wallet. The scene finally ends with Christopher violently kicking the cop's corpse, and Tom Selleck portentously droning on in the background about some guy who's been arrested for impersonating a police officer. "Hmm" again.

Incidentally, it's at times like these that I'm reminded of another prominent prayer of confession from Yom Kippur. "Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu, divreinu" "We have trespassed, we have dealt treacherously, we have stolen, we have spoken slander, we have committed iniquity, and have done wickedly; we have acted presumptuously; we have committed violence; we have framed falsehood; we have counseled evil; we have uttered lies; we have scorned; we have rebelled; we have blasphemed; we have revolted; we have acted perversely; we have transgressed; we have oppressed; we have been stiff-necked." Congratulations, boys. It's only one episode, and you're already batting a thousand.

Chez Soprano. Carmela lies alone in bed, watching a TV news report about a deadly armored-car heist in Pennsylvania. When the reporter names one of the victims and announces that he had ties to the New Jersey mob, she sinks her face into her hands.

By now it's morning, and Tony and Bobby have arrived at Uncle Junior's house. In all fairness, I should mention at this point that, about nine paragraphs ago, it actually stopped being Yom Kippur, and started being shockingly late the following Sunday afternoon. There were also quick stops along the way on Wednesday night, Thursday morning during a particularly boring meeting at work (that was the Rabbi Amnon story), and a brief fever-dream moment in the wee hours of Saturday morning (that was the bit about wanting to see more "titties"). Anyway, Wacky Old Guy greets them at the door, and explains about the mole at Dr. Lurkowitz's office and the fact that Bobby's wife and kids are inside. In you're interested, Bobby's wife is somewhat more attractive than you'd expect her to be, although she does bear a potentially unfortunate resemblance to Angie Bonpensiero. Make of that what you will. Just don't make me type it again. Wacky Old Guy explains that they "had a little scare" with the shunt in Junior's heart. But then "he passed some gas, and he seems better." Heh. Junior is predictably grumpy about having this news spread to the entire world, and his mood doesn't get any better once they start talking about the mole. "I was led around by the nose, Anthony," he laments. "A young cooze smiled at me and birds started chirping. Time was, my instincts never would have failed me like that." Tony tries to console him, and after dismissing Bobby and Wacky Old Guy from the room, he also offers to "help" his uncle by paying $100,000 for a garage Junior owns on -- wait for it -- Frelinghuysen Avenue. Tony finally sits down at the table, and Junior moans, "I'm an old man, Anthony. An old man that's going to trial. Not much else to say about me."

At long last, Melfi's office. "I'm a little depressed," confesses Tony. "You were on vacation." Ah, so that's where she was. Uh huh. Tony goes on to describe his earlier fight with Carmela, and how he also realized that she was right -- things do come to an end. "There's two endings for a high-profile guy like me," he says. "Dead, or in the can. Big percent of the time." When Melfi interrupts to (rightly) ask why he doesn't just quit the business, Tony finishes his train of thought. "There's a third way to wrap it up. You rely only on family." She thinks he means AJ, but that's not what Tony has in mind. "What I've been dealt is my nephew," he explains. "He's got his act together, that kid. And over the last couple of months, I've started the process of bonding him to me inseparably." Of course, what Tony doesn't know is that Christopher is already bonded inseparably to the syringe he keeps under the bed. "Why are you telling me all this?" wonders Melfi. "I don't know," he answers. "I guessI trust you. A little." (FS² = 6).

And now for the touching denouement. Christopher sits alone in a strange house, smoking a cigarette in the kitchen. A couple of pictures of his father dot the table beside him, and I have to say that Michael Imperioli looks exactly like his father. Suddenly a middle-aged woman in a housecoat and curlers wanders in, and she's clearly surprised to see him. The subtext rapidly reveals that this is Mama Moltisanti, and that she and Christopher aren't all that close. They make small talk, which also includes Christopher checking his mother's breath for alcohol, and then the conversation naturally turns to talk of the father. "Did you ever miss him?" asks Chris. "When he was in prison, or after he was dead?" replies Mom. She also takes an inordinate amount of self-righteous pride in the fact that she never "saddled" Christopher with a stepfather. Which probably explains the loneliness and the drinking. In a touching Ruth-like attempt to relate to her son, she offers to make him his favorite food (a fluffer-nutter), but she doesn't have any peanut butter. And if that's not metaphor for dysfunctional family relationships, I don't know what is. Christopher excuses himself to leave, but before he goes, he stops in front of the refrigerator, which is festooned with AA slogans, and pins up the twenty-dollar bill he took from the Daddy-Killing Diner Pirate. Mama Moltisanti might have preferred a book report with an A on it, but for Christopher, that's about the best he could do. And as the music kicks in, and we slowly zoom into Andrew Jackson's left eyeball, the show comes to a close. For the first time in memory, we don't fade to black for the credits, as David Chase simply shows us the money (FS² = 7).

Well, that's it kids. But before I go, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention the news in this announcement. You know, in my brief time as an employee of Television Without Pity, I've seen and done a lot of crazy things. I've shared a hotel room with Shack. I've shared a sofa with Hobey and Little Joe. I've partied with reality TV stars. I've gotten angry email from Mike Binder's little brother. I've at times seen various readers and recappers drunk, stoned, naked, and enraptured by an Elvis movie (though not, sadly, simultaneously). I've been kicked out of bars at 3:00 AM. I've been kicked out of Wing and Glark's house at 4:00 AM. I've signed autographs. I've gotten my picture in the paper. I've stayed up all night writing recaps. I've stayed up all night reading recaps. I've seen some of the greatest television ever produced. I've seen four episodes of The Mind of the Married Man. I once watched someone gleefully bid more than $100 on E-Bay for a single VHS tape containing a '70s era TV Movie of the Week starring -- I kid you not -- Donny Osmond. ["It was Shaun Cassidy, bitch. Also, you're fired." -- Sars] I've been stalked. I've been prank-called. I've been accused of racism, homophobia, extreme long-windedness, and insensitivity towards the morbidly obese. For some reason, a shockingly large number of people want to marry me anyway. I've made great friends, some of whom I've never even laid eyes on. And perhaps most important of all, I'm one of an extremely small group of people on this planet who can honestly say that writing detailed recaps of popular television shows has actually gotten them laid.

Personally, I hope this site lives forever.

B'Rosh Hashanah y'kateivun, u'v'Yom tzom Kippur y'chateimun. On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it shall be sealed.