No Show

You know, because of the shows I recap here at Television Without Pity, I'm often accused of being some sort of TV snob who watches nothing but HBO and PBS, and then only when I can be torn away from my busy schedule of Bible study and marriage planning. But the sad truth is, episodes like this one really make me yearn for the opportunities my fellow recappers often enjoy to party with space hookers and hot chicks on motorcycles, to say nothing of all the wild hot-tub threesomes. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to recap this week's episode? There's only so many times you can use the phrase "Shut up, Meadow" before the words start to lose all meaning. Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Buck up, ghetto. What's up, libretto? Cut up, stiletto. See? Besides, who the hell names their kid "Meadow," anyway (actually, Hippy.com lists it as forty-seventh in popularity, just ahead of "Patchouli," and just behind "Moonbeam," "Maryjane," and "Ethan")? But really, all that is neither here nor there, and even though we can't catch a frigging break at the Emmys, I guess I should just be happy for all the profanity and gratuitous nudity I get. Still, the occasional space hooker would be a welcome addition.

John Ritter: You know, I had a space hooker once.
David Chase: Oh, Christ.
John Ritter: No, really. She was on a five-year mission to seek out and explore new sexual positions.
David Chase: Yeah. We already did that one.
John Ritter: Oh. Okay, how about this: In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will have sex with the Sith, the Romulans, and the people who still think Sorkin has talent. She isThe Space Hooker.
David Chase: Oy. Been there. Winced at that.
John Ritter: Wow. You're not exactly leaving me with a lot of options here.
David Chase: Eh. Whaddya gonna do?

We open this week at Lola The Fed's house, with the hazy soft-focus filter of government-sanctioned marital bliss once again covering the lens. That lasts only for a few seconds, however, because Lola's cell phone rings, and her blocking demands that she step into the foreground, which in turn allows her barely bra-covered cleavage to press almost directly into the camera. You know what? Forget the space hooker. I'm happy now. Anyway, it's Adriana calling, and they make plans to meet up later.

Cut to Chez Soprano, where an equally undressed Meadow wanders through the kitchen in a bikini and low-rise cut offs. Shut up, Meadow. That one was preemptive. You know, in case her bellybutton starts singing. Oh, and speaking of preemptive, am I the only one cynical enough to think that W is just holding off on the Iraq invasion until November sweeps? After all, Fox is bound to have a few holes in its schedule by then (and yeah, girls club, I'm looking at you), so I'm sure a few chic shots of smart bombs would be just what Dr. Murdoch ordered. Think about it. And by the way, can you tell I'm trying to avoid recapping this scene? What's that? You can? Shut up, Meadow. Anyway, she and Carmela immediately start bickering about Meadow's lack of a job this summer, and Meadow reminds her mother that there was "no stagecraft whatsoever" involved in her intern position at the local playhouse. Ack! Too many intern jokes. Not enough cigars. Over the course of the scene, Meadow whines about the death of Little Lord Fuckpants and the excessive burden of having to take "twelve credits" two semesters in a row. She also busts out words like "reductionism," "duplicitous," "canon," and "shitcan." And therein lies my problem with this episode. I'd love to snark on every word she says (twelve fucking credits? Try fifteen and a full-time job, bitch), but there just isn't time. So instead I'll leave you with this: Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Shut. Up. Meadow (∑ SuM = 9).

Eventually the argument is interrupted by the arrival of Furio, and after much primping and preening, Carmela dashes to the front door to let him in. They banter about his plans to buy a house in the area, and Furio admits that he's decided to live in Nutley, presumably because it sounds like "Napoli" when he says it with that Italian accent. Then Tony comes downstairs and the boys depart, leaving Carmela with nothing but her bratty daughter and a few unfulfilled Furio fantasies.

Vesuvio. It's a party, and the gang's all here. And I do mean "all." With the exception of the imprisoned Paulie, pretty much every member of the Soprano "family" is present, along with what appears to be a significant number of vaguely ethnic extras. And for those of you who enjoy looking for hidden meanings in every little scene, this shot's resemblance to da Vinci's "Last Supper" is simply too obvious to ignore. For the record, it's Silvio who's sitting in the Judas spot. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile, the crew has somehow gotten onto the unlikely subject of Harry Potter, and Bobby Bacala opines that kids enjoy the books so much because they "give all the ninety-eight-pound weaklings some hope." This provides Joey Pants with an excellent set-up for a joke which the previews tell us will likely have lasting significance. "Speaking of ninety-eight pounds," he says, "I hear Ginny Sack is getting a ninety-five pound mole taken off her ass!" Everyone laughs and laughs, even though it's clearly not as funny as last season's Ragu blood-type bit. Perhaps realizing this, Tony gets up and excuses himself, but not before instructing Silvio to conduct some business in his absence. Once the boss is gone, Sil convenes a meeting, and yields the floor to Patsy Parisi and Little Paulie. They explain that Big Paulie is still stuck in prison, and upset that he hasn't been receiving his fair share of perks from the esplanade project. There's some back-and-forth negotiation between Joey Pants and Patsy Pees-A-Lot, and Silvio eventually decrees that Tony has decided to award five "jobs" to Paulie. That's more than Joey was prepared to give, and less than Paulie wanted, but it does seem to be a pretty fair split. These "jobs," by the way, fall into two categories: "no work" and "no show" (StTM = 349). I'll just skip the obligatory pun about my having no work if there were no show, and report that Silvio also announces that Christopher has been promoted to acting capo in Paulie's absence. Patsy looks somewhat discomfited by this revelation, but I suppose it's also just possible that his Depends are leaking.

Outside the restaurant, Christopher is ecstatic over his promotion. "First thing I'm doing," he exclaims, "is getting wings in my hair." Heh. Silvio is not amused.

So, be honest. Who else thought David Chase forgot all about Adriana's club? I mean, with the disappearing Russians and the constant re-arranging of crew memberships, I can hardly blame you, but still. Have some faith, why don't you? Anyway, here we are at The Crazy Horse, the best damn equestrianistically-named club in New Jersey since The Stone Pony (and yes, I know that's not really a word). Symbolism watchers should take further note of the giant pictures of eyeballs that adorn the walls. Adriana and Lola are in there alone, presumably after closing, and as women are sometimes wont to do, they're discussing the possibility of having babies. Lola fails to admit that she already has a baby of her own, and also makes an incredibly ham-handed segue into a story about a former "fuck buddy" of hers who might have been "connected" because he always carried a gun. "It's probably just to protect himself," replies Adriana, who looks uncomfortable with this particular subject. "I mean, Christopher does too, sometimes. When you're in a cash business" Lola makes me giggle with her arch reply: "Stocks is a cash business?" Heh. Not when you invest in AOL Time Warner, they're not. In what will prove to be only the first of many such subtle misdirections tonight, Adriana leans conspiratorially over the bar and whispers, "Can I tell you something?" An excited Lola quickly agrees, and Adriana stomps around the bar to sit down beside her before finally laying out her big confession: "I don't think I can have kids." Lola isn't sure whether to be sad that she's not getting the Soprano scoop, or simply sympathetic to Adriana's situation. When Ade starts crying, however, Lola pulls her close for a hug, and mentions that she knows a great OB-GYN. You know, the one that her "sister" just went to. She appears almost, but not quite, compassionate.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because Christopher and Little Paulie come gallivanting into the club at this point, Christopher describing himself as "a man of many mysteries" before handing over a baggie of cocaine and suggesting that Little Paulie use it to take "the odors out of [his] fridge." Heh. With the drugs thus dispensed (in full view of an undercover federal agent), Christopher sends Lola and Little Paulie out of the room so that he can talk to his fiance. Or, more accurately, so that he can give his fiance a giant diamond bracelet from Harry Winston that has "more carats than Bugs Bunny." Adriana is astonished, and gets even happier when Christopher explains that "Carmela ain't gonna be first lady forever."

Cut to Seoul, where, as usual, students are rioting in the streets. Except we're not actually in Korea; we're just watching it on TV. With Janice and Joey Pants, no less, who are curled up on Janice's sofa watching Faces of Death. Given his love of Gladiator, I'm surprised Joey chose not to go with Hannibal, as it's equally gory and also directed by Ridley Scott. Nevertheless, they're soon interrupted by the arrival of Tony, and Joey quickly scampers upstairs to hide. Down in the living room, Janice and Tony exchange small talk about Bobby Bacala ("he's fat"), Tommy Mottola (he's a "slow motherfucker"), and Janice's coffee-making skills (she only has "soy milk"). Suddenly, Tony notices a tasseled loafer that's been kicked under the table, and immediately deduces that Joey Pants is lurking somewhere nearby. Personally, I'm fairly certain he knew exactly what he would find there before he even opened the door, so I'm not sure why people in the forums are so surprised that he could figure it out from just a single shoe. Janice insists that her love life is none of Tony's concern, so he stomps out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

So, of course, we immediately cut to a door opening, as Paulie is escorted into the visiting area of the Youngstown State Penitentiary For The Chiropractically Infirm. Little Paulie has driven out for another visit, and he quickly brings Big Paulie up to date on the "no show" job situation. Big Paulie, however, has more pressing concerns: "Who's been to see my ma?" Little Paulie sadly reports that the answer is no one, although Tony did send some chocolates after he made a killing in his Frelinghuysen Avenue real-estate deal. The real fireworks start, however, when Little Paulie repeats Joey Pants's "ninety-five-pound mole" joke. Paulie doesn't find that one funny at all, but if you're reading this recap, you've already seen the episode, so you knew that by now. Moving on.

A slow pan leads us across the esplanade construction site, and we come to rest on a sign that proclaims Newark to be "The OTHER City By The Bay." Yeah. The Bay of Pigs, maybe. And hey, speaking of pigs, here's Wide Guy, chatting on his cell phone as he and the other "no work" boys sit around the construction site. Suddenly, Christopher drives up, singing the ever-popular song "If I were a carpenter, and you were a douchebag." If I remember correctly, that's the very song Karen Carpenter was working on when she died. Or maybe that was Dean Martin. Either way, Christopher also laments the difficulty of working his new job. "I tell ya, this no-show shit is hard," he says. "Deciding what not to wear to work, what not to put in my lunchbox" Patsy Pees-A-Lot continues to not be amused by Christopher's antics, although the little anthrax joke Patsy makes here does cause at least me to giggle. Christopher notices a huge roll of cable sitting on the site, and Vinny from Doogie Howser (who now looks to be about nine billion years old) explains that it's fiber-optic cable designed for high-speed internet access. "Lotta money in this shit," says Wide Guy. Yeah, no kidding.

Melfi's office. Tony is explaining the situation with Meadow, and to his credit, he does seem to understand that Meadow is largely the one at fault here. "She did have someone close die," he says, "but she brings that up whenever you ask her to clean up after herself. She's 'traumatized' or something." And can I also stop here to point out that in today's era of teen suicide, drunk driving, and random senseless violence, you'd be hard pressed to find a nineteen-year-old who hasn't had someone close to them die? Shut up, Meadow. Dr. Melfi thinks Meadow might be depressed, and suggests medication, but Tony is uncomfortable with that idea. He also explains that most of his daughter's anger is directed at Carmela, and that he and Meadow have always been close. "She loves me," he sighs wistfully. "Since she was a tiny baby." Melfi agrees with that assessment, but also points out the somewhat unsettling fact that as Meadow's father, Tony is "the template for all [her] future lovers." Does this mean I'm condemned to a life of dating women who are exactly like my mother? Because that would suck. Then again, I'm beginning to realize that I've spent most of the last twenty-nine years doing exactly that. Huh? What? This isn't MY therapy session, you say? Sorry about that. Anyway, Melfi gives Tony the name of an "adolescent psychologist and educational consultant," and suggests that Tony send Meadow to see her. When he realizes that might lead to Meadow discussing private family issues with a total stranger, however, Tony tries to rationalize the problem away by repeating that Meadow is due to start back at Columbia in a matter of days.

Chez Shut Up Meadow. Carmela wanders into her daughter's bedroom, only to find her zonked out under the covers in the middle of the afternoon. "I thought you had final registration today," she asks gently, but the Carmela-To-Aaron's-Mom translator in my head causes me to hear that as: "Get the fuck out of bed, go mow the lawn, and then register for classes and drive your sister to the mall before I beat you with a plastic fish." Meadow and her gigantic rat's nest of a hairdo finally manage to sit up and fix Carmela with a withering glare. Heh. Say what you want about Jamie-Lynn Sigler, but the girl does give great bed-head. Ew. Not like that. She then announces that she's decided to take a year off and go to Europe with friends, because she's not ready to deal with all the stress inherent in declaring a major. Oh, please. It's easy. I declared about twelve before I finally picked one. "And you obviously don't want me around here," she finishes, before rolling over and picking up the phone. Carmela stands there aghast for a moment, before plaintively whining, "You think I don't want you here?" Dear God in heaven. No wonder the child is so messed up. Who out there knows the real response Carmela should have given in that situation? Come on, say it with me now: "Shut up, Meadow."

Vesuvio. Artie whines about his divorce for a minute, but then Christopher arrives for his weekly chewing out from Tony. Tony reports that he got a "very angry call" from the construction company, and Christopher immediately thinks it's about "the M-80 in the Porta-Pot." And while it is true that I would have loved to have seen that, it's not the real reason Tony's mad. The boss goes on to explain that drawing heat to a quarter-billion-dollar construction project isn't the best idea anyone's ever had. "Use your fuckin' head, Christopher," he snarls, and Chris promises to do so in the future. Oh, yeah. That'll happen.

Cut to an outdoor basketball court somewhere, with Joey Pants and Wide Guy engaged in the worst game of basketball I've seen since I quit playing in the local Jewish league. Of course, the set they're on reminds me a great deal of Joey Pants's apartment in the movie Running Scared, so now I'm all paranoid that Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines are going to show up any second now. What? Stop looking at me like that. On a show that casts Linda Lavin, anything is possible. Joey is all giddy with puppy love for Janice, and Wide Guy is himself enthralled with the "pre-Raphaelite" curls in her hair. He also thinks her "big tits" give her an "earthy" quality. If that's the case, then Wide Guy is about as earthy as they come. He's Eartha Kitt, for Christ's sake. I haven't seen man-boobs like that since Richard Speck's prison-bitch video. Anyway, Joey makes Wide Guy hang around for a second game, and even goes so far as to goad him into playing better defense. Wide Guy thus scores the best line of the night simply by raising his right hand a bit to block Joey's path. Hee!

Oh. My God. What's the one thing you never thought you'd see on HBO? No, not a second season of Mind of the Married Man. Something even more shocking! Carmela is now actually using -- wait for it -- a computer THAT WASN'T MADE BY APPLE!!! Not only that, she's NOT LOGGED INTO AOL!!! I kid you not. There's even a little Gateway logo, right there staring me in the face. I guess this must be part of the fallout from Gerald Levin's departure or something. Or maybe Steve Jobs and Steve Case just forgot to pay their product placement bills. Either way, this does represent a titanic shift in the show's marketing schemes, and I just couldn't let it pass without comment. Anyway, Carmela is reviewing a financial planning website when Tony walks in. She immediately tells him about Meadow's plans for Europe, and Tony freaks out right along with her. AJ comes downstairs at this point for his parole-officer-mandated ten seconds of screen time this week, and promptly asks a question that just about everyone has heard in their own home at some point: "Are you still online?" Carmela, after just telling Tony not to yell at her, turns around and yells at AJ that "as a matter of fact, I am." And then, poof, AJ's gone, never to be seen again. Returning the discussion to Meadow, Tony blames her "constant harping on art" for all their problems, and Carmela insists that they send Meadow to the shrink Melfi recommended. Tony, on the other hand, would rather have her see a counselor at Columbia, because they're "Ivy League" there. I'm just going to assume that Sars has already fired me in brackets somewhere by this point, and just skip the inevitable Princeton joke. ["Aaaaand now you're fired." -- Sars]

This week's contribution from The HBO Department Of Creatively Selected Video Symbolism is a clip from Everybody Loves Raymond about couples who don't need to talk to each other. So, of course, the Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us from there to Chris and Adriana, who will probably have quite a bit to talk about before this episode is over. Chris is still depressed that Tony mistreats him occasionally, and he's decided to use that as an excuse to get high again, even though he promised to quit. "This is my goodbye party with heroin," he explains, repeating the famous last words of just about every drug addict on the planet. Adriana makes a completely nonsensical statement about something Lola said regarding sending food to poor countries, but all it really does is serve as a conversational bridge to allow Christopher to expound on what he thinks Lola's "problem" is. It's misdirection time again, and we slowly build up to just the point when you think Chris is going to reveal that he knows she's an undercover agent. And then he spoils it by saying, "She's a dyke." Well, at least we got a laugh out of it. Adriana looks shocked by this allegation, but does start to consider it as the scene ends.

Cut to the day, with Christopher berating Patsy and Little Paulie in the pizza shop. He parrots Tony's words about using their heads and quarter-billion-dollar jobs as he lectures them about stealing the fiber-optic cable. Patsy insists that the whole thing was Christopher's idea in the first place, because he gave Patsy "a look" when he mentioned it. Little Paulie's outfit in this scene truly has to be seen to be believed, so if you don't have the episode on tape, just drive out to any random golf course in South Florida, find the oldest guy there wearing polyester, and imagine what that would look like on a guy half his age. In lime green.

Chez Soprano. Tony, Carmela, and Meadow sit around the dining room table and discuss her plans to go to Europe. In an effort to make what has largely been a fairly boring recap up to this point more exciting, I've decided to transcribe this scene as I heard it in my head, rather than as it actually appeared on screen. Think of it as Aaron-O-Vision, if you like: Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. No, you can't go to Europe, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. You can't support yourself working on a student film in Denmark, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. We don't care that the director got "an honorable mention at the Winnipeg film festival," Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. That line was still pretty funny though, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Jackie Jr. wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood, Meadow. Check the tape; the prop guys screwed that scene up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Nice job fading out the sound during Tony's close-up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Tony: Fine, go to Europe, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. Something about the French and their balls, Meadow. Shut up, Meadow. (∑ SuM = 24).

John Ritter: Damn. How the hell do you put up with that girl?
David Chase: It's actually easier than you might think. Don't forget, my own kid is Hunter Scangarelo.
John Ritter: I guess. Daughters are just hard, you know?
David Chase: Tell me about it.
John Ritter: Things would be so much easier if only there were some sort of simple compendium with a few critical guidelines for dealing with wayward female adolescents.
David Chase: You mean, like, eight simple rules for dealing with your teenage daughter?
John Ritter: Well, sort of. But, dude! That's a horrible fucking title. I thought you were supposed to be some big-shot writer-man or something?

Upstairs, Carmela and Tony argue about his sudden change of heart. Carm clearly doesn't want her baby straying far from the nest, but Tony thinks she might at least get the chance to meet a nice Italian boy. You know, like Furio. Heh. Carmela's response to that is confused silence for a moment, but then she gathers herself together enough to suggest once again that they send Meadow to see Dr. Melfi's referral. "Maybe she can explain to Meadow how dropping out now is not going to look good to all those medical schools," she suggests, and it suddenly occurs to me that, given this show's history with Meadow-centric episodes, "Medical School" should really have been this week's title. Unless David Chase can come up with another synonym for "college," that is. On the other hand, "No Show" actually is a pretty good synonym for my own college experience, so maybe I should just shut up.

Cut to a new psychiatrist's office, where Meadow is curled up on a couch across from a newly blonde Linda Lavin, who is also curled up on a couch. Meadow is relating the story of the Little Lord's funeral, and all the "egregious, saccharine Italian ballads" everyone was listening to. Hmm. Something tells me Dominic Chianese won't be putting that quote on the back of his new album any time soon. Linda plays this character as smarmily as is humanly possible, and rapidly moves from probing Meadow about possibly being bulimic to probing her about her father's occupation. Meadow stammers around a bit, but finally does comes out and admits that "Dad" is in the mafia. Of course, she also then repeats Tony's oft-stated claim that "there's no such thing as the mafia," so who knows what's up with that. It's already been noted on the forums that Dr. Linda violates just about every tenet of good diagnostic behavior here in this scene, so I won't harp on the details. I will say, however, that Meadow looks kind of cute when she's crying. It's probably just because her mouth is closed, but still. They discuss Jackie's death some more, and Meadow is fairly adamant in maintaining that "Dad" was a "positive force" in Jackie Jr.'s life. "I'm going to ask you a question about Dad," says Dr. Linda, in a way that clearly indicates she totally wants the answer to be yes. "Did Dad ever molest you? Did he ever, you know, kiss your grits, so to speak?" Meadow insists that he didn't, and gets even more disgusted when Linda suggests that Mom might have done it. Unable to conceal her disappointment at this lack of scandal, Dr. Linda quickly changes the subject back to Columbia, and proceeds to finish out the appointment by telling Meadow exactly what she wants to hear. She even suggests that Meadow take a few classes at the University of Barcelona, for which she's a consultant. Oy. Since not even the professionals seem to be able to say it this week, I'll have to do it for them: Shut up, Meadow.

Bada Bing. Silvio mugs in the back room for a minute until Tony comes in, and then he segues right into a dual-purpose conversation complaining about Christopher's behavior. Basically, Silvio is reporting that Patsy feels "marginalized" over Chris's promotion, and Tony is gleefully indicating that he doesn't give a shit. In order to properly understand the scene, however, you really need to insert Silvio's name every time you hear Patsy's, as he's (not that) subtly trying to complain about his own situation. I never thought I'd say this, but Stevie Van Zandt gives great subtext in this scene.

Over at The Crazy Horse, however, there's no room for subtext. That's largely because a band fronted by what appears to be Tom Petty's younger, less-talented brother is playing too loudly for anyone to think. And before you begin the inevitable deluge of emails this week, yes, I do know it's not really Tom Petty's brother. It's actually Tom Jorgensen of the Swinging Neckbreakers, but the resemblance is definitely there. And hey, is that Dean Martin I see on drums? Just kidding. Anyway, Christopher, Lola, and Adriana retire to the back room, where they all crowd together in the center of a giant leather sofa. Chris and Adriana snort some coke, oblivious to the FBI agent, er, "dyke" sitting right to them. Christopher suggests that they all form a band together, and then proceeds to demonstrate his own wack hip-hop stylings by performing a rap that goes, "My bitch, my ho. My ho, my bitch." The boy certainly is a silver-tongued devil, ain't he? And also? Somebody please shoot me if I ever use the word "wack" again. ["If I hadn't fired you already..." -- Sars] Lola suddenly notices Adriana's new diamond bracelet, and gushes over it for like ten minutes. To Lola Glaudini's credit, you can actually see her break the "Danielle" character for a minute, as she's astonished by the diamonds in her hand.

But then Chris and Adriana start making out, and the only hand Lola has time to be concerned about is Christopher's as it slides up her thigh. She tries to push it away, but Adriana sees what's going on before she can, and predictable results ensue. Lola bolts, and Adriana and Christopher engage in a lengthy screaming match that's highlighted by Adriana's comment, "What, did you think you were going to fuck the both of us? You and those fucking videos!" Heh. Not, of course, that I have any idea what she's talking about. Christopher quickly turns the entire situation around, putting all the blame on Lola. "Use your head, huh?" he says. "What do I want with that skank when I got you?" He also mentions that he only said Lola had a nice ass because he "was trying to say something positive because she's [Adriana's] friend." There's a tearful reconciliation, and the scene ends with Adriana apologizing for ever having doubted Christopher's intentions. You know what? The boy really is a silver-tongued devil after all.

John Ritter: Come and knock on our door!
David Chase: Shut up, John.
John Ritter: We've been waiting for you!
David Chase: I said, shut up, John.
John Ritter: Oh, where the kisses are hers and hers and his, three's company, too!
David Chase: I swear to God, I will beat you with a plastic fish if you don't shut up.

Bada Bing. Silvio is alone in the back room again, only this time he's trying to reassemble a broken golf trophy. Hmmm. Could that be a metaphor for his new position in the family hierarchy? I think it just might be. Patsy wanders in with some coffee, and oh-so-casually mentions that a load of fancy Mexican floor tile just got delivered to the construction site. He also reminds us that "Alfalfa" (a.k.a. Christopher) passed along Tony's order not to steal anymore, but Silvio decides to countermand that order, and gives Patsy permission to boost the tile. Dun dun DUN! As Patsy leaves, Silvio disgustedly tosses the broken trophy into a drawer. Yep, that's a metaphor, all right.

Chez Soprano. Tony comes downstairs in his robe (StR = 2,312) and finds Janice lounging in the kitchen. Never one to leave a scab unpicked, Tony starts asking about her "love life" almost right away. Janice insists that it's none of his business, but Tony feels otherwise, especially because he "had to haul [her] last boyfriend out of the kitchen. In a Hefty bag." Oh, if only the same could happen to Joey. They start arguing in earnest, with Janice accusing Tony of being threatened by either her happiness or Joey's sense of style. Of course, since neither of those things actually exists, it's sort of a weak argument. The real kicker, comes, however, when she tells Tony that he's just like Livia. Oy. Clearly Janice hasn't seen this week's episode yet, since its whole point is that MEADOW is the one who's just like Livia. In fact, I'm kind of surprised that David Chase didn't work a single "Lord, just take me now" into Jamie-Lynn's dialogue for the week. I guess he was busy blocking the puke scene.

Over at Lola the Fed's house, she and her husband are eating breakfast. As a way of tipping us off that the investigation is over, this is the first time they've shot this set without the soft-focus filter. Lola gets a call from Adriana, who basically breaks up with her, and just like that, "four fucking months of work" are down the drain.

Now we cut to FBI headquarters, where Lola is being interrogated by her bosses. They decide that it's too late to start another undercover operation, and that they should just arrest Adriana straight up. After complimenting Lola's performance, they send her on her way, and then the head agent admits that he had a dream about her the other night. Join the club, buddy. Join the club.

You know, golf is a stupida fucking game. But that doesn't stop Tony and Artie, who are out on the course in what appears to be fairly cold weather. Artie, by the way, is the worst golfer ever. Some random stranger comes running over to talk to Tony, and I'm totally crushed that Furio doesn't materialize to steal his hat. Oh, well. Anyway, the stranger turns out to be the head of the esplanade construction company, and he tells Tony all about the missing floor tiles.

Cut to an enraged Christopher, screeching up to the construction site in his Range Rover. I should mention at the top that Adriana is in the car with him, and witnesses everything that happens here. Chris jumps out of the car and runs over to Patsy, and a brawl nearly breaks out as they shout at each other. Chris actually draws his pistol, and points it at Patsy as he emphatically reminds him who's in charge. "And don't think I forgot about you going through my fiance's underwear drawer, either," he adds, conveniently forgetting that in fact it was Paulie, not Patsy, who did that. Some burly-looking construction dude standing nearby threatens to call the police, and as Christopher heads back to his car, Patsy goes upside the dude's head with a lead pipe. Adriana is disgusted by the violence, but I'm actually laughing a bit, especially as Wide Guy instructs the others to keep their mouths shut and get the wounded man to a hospital. The best thing about this scene? The approximately two million gallons of spit that went flying out of everyone's mouths as they yelled. I just hope someone issued raincoats to the crew.

Chez Shut up Meadow. Again she's lying in bed, and this time Carmela doesn't even bother to come in and check on her. Instead, Meadow yells out to her in the hall as she passes, and asks for a tuna sandwich. Oh. My. God. Shut. Up. Meadow. Carmela manages to at least look annoyed by this ludicrously selfish attitude, and I'm once again forced to turn to the Carmela-To-Aaron's-Mom translator, which tells me that Carmela should be thinking about whether to simply ground the child, or to sell her into slavery on a tuna-fishing boat instead. My mom would have gone with the former, by the way, which explains why I'm actually still grounded even today. Instead of, I don't know, maybe yelling, "SHUT UP, MEADOW," Carmela instead tries to ask how things went with Dr. Linda. Meadow explains that the session was confidential, and that she doesn't have to share details if she doesn't want to. And oddly enough, that's about the only rational thing she's said all episode. In fact, that was sort of my problem with this week's show, because somewhere around the half-hour mark Meadow stopped being a believable character, and started being a complete and total caricature of a bratty child. I get where they were going with this, but I just think they went too far.

Anyway, Carmela calls Tony into the room, and they attempt to team up on their daughter. Well, at least they do after Tony picks the cereal bowl he sat down on out of his ass. Heh. Meadow reveals that Dr. Linda thinks going to Europe is a great idea, and much screaming and yelling ensues. Meadow runs down all the old clichs, including "I'm eighteen now," "What is this, Afghanistan?" (those of you over twenty-five should mentally substitute "the Soviet Union" for that one), and my personal favorite, "I'm a grown woman, I can do what I want." Don't ask why "I'm a grown woman" is my favorite. You don't want to know. She also points out that Tony was originally in favor of her going, but he replies that Carmela doesn't want it. "Wow. Listen to Mr. Mob Boss," she snarks. "All this fucking pussyfooting around. Why not just get it all out there?" Tony is infuriated at this point, and he jumps out of his chair and presses his face right into hers. "You got something you want to say to me?" he snarls. "All these innuendos?" Meadow's faces loses all of its strength as she realizes that she's finally crossed the line. It goes without saying that the acting is excellent here, but Jimmy Gandolfini still seems to have a few tricks he could teach the kids if need be. "Are you referring to me that I didn't do everything I could to keep that kid from fucking himself up?" he shouts. "That yeah, knowing him and his family, that I didn't try to be a better dad to him than his own dad, God rest his soul? That I didn't try to protect Jackie Jr.? That I didn't actually smack him around because I was so frustrated? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" He does, of course, neglect to point out that he also ordered the kid's murder. Well, at least he doesn't say it out loud. His facial expressions, however, make it clear that Meadow finding that fact out is possibly his greatest fear. He shouldn't get too worried, though, because she's still too self-absorbed to notice. She insists that she refuses to tell anyone he's in "environmental clean-up" anymore, but the sheer weight of her father's glare finally causes her to break down. She starts sobbing, and screeches that she's going to Europe and they can't stop her before stomping out of the room. Tony yells after her, but to no avail. She's gone. So, remember when Tony said they'd be fucked if the kids ever found out they were powerless? Well, there you go.

Across town, Adriana is walking her "pocket rat" of a dog when a nondescript late-model sedan pulls up beside her. Special Agent Dwight Harris introduces himself and also indicates Lola, who's no longer in her Jersey slut-wear. Adriana is shocked and appalled that her "friend" was an agent all along, but all things considered, she takes it pretty well. They all climb into the car (including the dog) and drive off.

Cut to later, in the interrogation room. Adriana is told that she's not under arrest, but that they do have her on tape talking about cocaine, not to mention a half-dozen other violations. Adriana is more concerned about the fact that she told Lola secrets that she had never told anyone before, and soon the tears begin to flow. When she asks Lola if Danielle is even her real name, things just get even worse. The FBI, however, seems more intent on negotiating here with a stick rather than a carrot (although given what's about to happen, that makes sense), and they threaten her with twenty-five years in prison, not to mention what might happen when Tony finds out she brought an undercover agent into his house. And then we're treated to what I feel completely safe in describing as the best projectile vomiting scene in the history of television. Sure, you've got your Exorcist, and sure, some people liked that Nike commercial a few years back, but for my money, it doesn't get any better than this. Or, as Sars put it, "This is why TiVo was invented." Adriana ralphs on the table. The rat dog bolts. Everyone else stands around coated in puke, and Lola's eyes are slowly drawn to the giant diamond bracelet on Adriana's wrist.

Chez Soprano. Tony answers the door to find Silvio, but it's not who he was hoping for. Tony explains that Meadow has disappeared, and that they think she might have already run off to Europe. Carmela peeks her head out of the bedroom to see who it is, and I'm surprised that she'd risk being seen like that if she thought it were Furio. She must really be worried about Meadow. Silvio, however, just wants to talk business, and Tony leads him downstairs into the basement. Which, if you'll remember, is completely lampless at this point. Hell, there aren't even any Manson lamps down there. Pamie will be so disappointed. Silvio pitches the "floor tile shit" as a nothing more than a "misunderstanding," but Tony makes it clear that he already knows Silvio went behind his back. "We go back a long way," he says. "Indeed we do," replies Silvio. Tony not very convincingly explains that Christopher's promotion was in no way intended to usurp Silvio's power, and Silvio monosyllabically states once again that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. When Tony hints around for his share of the action, Silvio hands over a stack of bills, and promises to have the rest to him soon. "I know you will," replies Tony, in a tone of voice that belies their long history together.

Janice's house. She's in bed reading The Origin of Satan, and Joey is sitting on the other side of the bed, trimming his toenails. A clipping flies up and hits her in the face, and he jokingly asks if she "caught some shrapnel." Janice gives him the sort of look that Sars often gives me when I make stupid jokes, and I think we all know how withering that can be. Moving on.

It turns out that Meadow isn't in Europe. Instead, she's registering for metaphors. Er, I mean, "classes." Unfortunately, the only one available is "Morality, Self, and Society." She signs her name to the registration form as I nimbly dodge the falling anvils and yell one last "Shut up, Meadow" at the screen (Final ∑ SuM? 28).

Our final scene this week takes place in the Chez Soprano master bath, where Carmela is soaking in a bubble bath while Tony washes his face. He suggests that they start with the estate planning she brought up last week, but Carmela isn't interested. "What, do you feel guilty?" she asks. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. It's me she blames." "For what?" wonders Tony, but Carmela just sighs in response. We go to one of David Chase's patented episode-ending wide shots of the spatial gulf that separates them, and then fade to black on their silence.

John Ritter: So let me get this straight: Tony blames himself for having ordered Jackie Jr.'s death, Carmela blames herself for staying with Tony, and absolutely no one blames Meadow for being a whiny, stuck-up, self-centered brat? How the hell does THAT work?
David Chase: I don't know. How come no one ever blames you for Hooperman?
John Ritter: Ooh. That was a low blow. I mean, it's not like I'm over here talking about Kolchak: The Night Stalker, you know.
David Chase: Get the fuck out. Now.
John Ritter: Jeez. Sore subject, much? And what's up with the "fuck"? You've been spending too much time with Alan lately.