Pie-O-My

A great poet who had nothing to do with the creation of Cats once wrote: "Things fall apart. The center does not hold." For four years now, The Sopranos has enjoyed a near-unprecedented run of unswerving critical acclaim, an ever-increasing viewership, a notable lack of Emmy awards, and the effortless possession of the sort of cool cachet most celebs would kill for. But considering the events and episodes of the past fortnight, one wonders if things near the center are perhaps not beginning to soften. Spurned by the Italian-American community, beset by allegations of drug abuse and assault on legally blind albinos, the show and its creators now find themselves for the first time face-to-face with the sort critical ambivalence and fan revolt that previously plagued only lesser works like The West Wing. When polled recently by a newspaper, viewers disappointed with this season's direction offered up such trenchant observations as: "If I wanted to watch women chatting about their weight, I'd turn off the TV and talk to my wife." So, are things falling apart? Has the worm turned? And if we are on the downward slope, how quickly can momentum build?

On a tangential but not wholly unrelated note, I'd also like to take a moment to thank the many readers this season who've written (nicely) to inform me about the intriguing trivia and technical minutiae of everything from New Jersey pet food franchises to the proper terminology for various forms of kinky sex play. As a public service and payback in kind, I now hope here to offer a few interesting facts about the animal kingdom of which some of you may not be aware: Most elephants weigh less than the tongue of a single blue whale. The animal responsible for the most human deaths worldwide is the mosquito. The Chacoan peccary, a small, nocturnal wild pig, was originally thought to have been extinct for over 11,000 years, until a live specimen was discovered in Argentina in 1975. Norwegian blue parrots often pine for the fjords of their youth. The airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow remains undetermined. According to H.L. Mencken, the phrase "get your goat" can be traced to the practice of unscrupulous gamblers stealing the pet goats of certain race horses, in order to make them more anxious and less likely to run fast. Moles are able to tunnel through 300 feet of earth per day. The longest recorded flight of a chicken is thirteen seconds. Sharks were the first species to utilize internal reproduction. In other words, they invented intercourse. Despite their reputation for being finicky, the average cat consumes approximately 127,750 calories per year, nearly twenty-eight times its own weight in food and the same amount again in liquids. The cat is also the only domestic animal not mentioned in the Bible. The whale shark, which is the largest known species of shark, can reach sizes in excess of twelve meters and forty-three tons. Thus it's likely one would need quite a bit of momentum, should one wish to jump one. I'm just saying.

David Chase: Dude. Why not just tell the everyone I'm having a ninety-five pound mole removed from my ass?
Aaron: You gotta admit, you are having a bad week.
David Chase: Eh. What are you gonna do? Really, though. Don't you think the whole "jump the shark" thing has sort of, you know, jumped the shark?
Aaron: Maybe. But no more so than saying "'jump the shark' has jumped the shark" has jumped the shark.
David Chase: That's a good point. But still, would it really kill you to say something positive here in our time of need?
Aaron: Well, I do still like you more than Mike Binder.
David Chase: Shut up and start the recap.

Never one to let a gaping wound fester between friends, I'll begin by pointing out that this week's opening shot of the sign outside Adriana's club, while admittedly somewhat lackluster in execution, is still no less brilliant for all its elegant, meta-clever simplicity. Because -- do you get it? "Crazy Horse"? I'm almost tempted to give that one StTM points. Inside, a band called No Soap Radio (featuring the Ironic Musical Detachment Fairy on lead guitar) wails away on a thematically relevant alterna-rock anthem while Adriana observes from beside the bar. She's shocked and appalled, however, by the unexpected arrival of Tony and Silvio. Flustered by the presence of the big boss (and worried what the FBI might think), she jumps up to greet them with a blatantly feigned enthusiasm. Tony, however, is too busy being proud of his nephew's all-grown-up, non-albino fiance to care. Taking a seat at the bar, Tony grimaces at the blaring those-kids-today music, but still somehow manages to hear his cell phone ringing from inside his jacket pocket. It's Carmela, and while she pesters him about calling his accountant, the artfully Dutch-angled Paranoia-Cam focuses in on Adriana as she DEKs that he's talking about her. "I said I'll talk to him" morphs into "I'm gonna fuck up her face before I kill her," and then Keith appears with a halo over his head while a baby rocks out on the dance floor behind him. Christopher arrives just as the band finishes playing, and quickly leads Tony and Silvio out towards the back door. Adriana, meanwhile, takes a moment to gratuitously plug the band, and while they're not really my cup of tea, I do have to admit that they at least have one hell of a publicist. The guy even emailed me. Her club owning responsibilities thus discharged, Adriana tentatively follows the boys towards the back room, and arrives just in time to see Furio and Christopher dragging a very frightened Italian man down into the basement. His name -- which gets repeated several times so we'll remember it later -- is apparently Giovanni, but since I can't believe that the mob couldn't find anyplace else in the entire state of New Jersey to beat the crap out of a guy, I've decided to call him Convenianni instead. Adriana sneaks out back into an alleyway, and finds a creatively lit window that's perfectly placed for viewing the violence below. And as Convenianni takes what looks like to be a particularly nasty blow to the head, we slowly push in on Adriana's frightened face. Fade to whiwhoops. Damn, that gets to be a habit. Fade to black. And in any case, farewell, Convenianni. Anyone with a hairpiece that bad deserves to get whacked.

David Chase: Thanks for the props on the opening shot. But just for the record, we're not friends.
Aaron: Aw, come on.
Alan Ball: Howdy, boys. Sorry to barge in, but I'm just wondering what's up with the little dream sequences there? That's my turf, thank you very much.
Mike Binder: Hey! I do dream sequences too, you know.
Robert Wuhl: Me too.
Brian Benben: Yeah, well, I was here first, dammit.
David E. Kelley: Um, hello?!? Acknowledged master of the genre, standing right here!
Everyone Ever Associated With HBO: Get out. Now.

Fade up on Janice "Living La Livia Loca" Soprano's house. She's in the kitchen, using a pair of binoculars to spy on the nearby Baccilieri residence. Silvio has brought over Jojo "The Widow" Palmice, who's carrying a pot of food and sporting a new Lauren-Ambrose-By-Way-Of-Lita-Ford red hairdo. Introductions are made, and Silvio hightails it out of there. All things considered, I guess we should just be happy he didn't send over a few girls from the Bing. Either way, Janice is not pleased with this turn of events.

Adriana, meanwhile, is at the beauty parlor, having some sort of tinfoil woven into her hair to fend off the FBI's listening devices, and also discussing the enlarged post-rehab status of an unnamed celebrity's posterior with her stereotypically gay hairdresser. I notice that she's wearing her diamond bracelet (which seems to switch arms on a regular basis to serve the needs of whatever camera angle they happen to be using), and I also notice that there's a small star tattoo visible on the inside of her wrist. Of course, as anyone who's ever seen an off-set photo of Drea de Matteo knows, her arms are actually covered with tattoos, and she apparently has to endure several hours of make-up each day to cover them for filming. No wonder she wants a raise. Anyway, this scintillating conversation is interrupted by a cell phone call from Mama Adriana, which is turn interrupted by yet another call, this one on the salon's phone. When she discovers that it's Lola The Long-Lost FBI Agent on line two, Adriana quickly hangs up with her mother, but not before stopping to product-place a brand of toothpaste. Hmm. Seven minutes to the first ad. Not exactly a record, but a pretty good score nonetheless. In fact, I've already decided to add Start-to-Product Placement into my equations for determining future episode grades. The only question now is, do I appease my eye for the ironic by product-placing StP as the acronym, or do I indulge my inner twelve year-old and go with the significantly more titter-worthy StPP? You know what? I'll let you decide. Agent Lola informs Adriana that her presence is requested at some restaurant out in the middle of nowhere, and Ade petulantly informs them that she's getting "lights and a wax," so it'll take her a while to arrive.

Back at Bobby's house, Janice has come over to deliver a few illicitly obtained X-Box games for Bobby's kids. My love for my own X-Box prevents me from wondering too hard about whom Janice might be friends with that would possess the kind of technical knowledge needed for that sort of thing, and besides, it's not like she really cares about the kids anyway. In the kitchen, Jojo is using the unconventional tactic of quoting George W. Bush in an attempt to lift Bobby's spirits. Janice, however, is already sharpening her claws in anticipation of a good catfight. With nothing more than a dirty look and a few cracks about Ritalin, she quickly manages to push the Widow Palmice right out the door. Alas, poor Jojo. You never knew what hit you. Once they're alone, Janice immediately begins going through the freezer and disparaging the culinary contributions of various other mob wives. Then she stumbles across a plate of ziti, which Bobby tearfully describes as "[Mrs. Bobby's] last ziti before she died." Aww. There's nothing more morbidly romantic than leftover pasta. Bobby, who in his grief has apparently been raiding Thin Guy's bad sweater closet, sobs even harder as his survivor's guilt pours forth. Janice tries to console him, but to no avail.

Freshly waxed and buffed, Adriana arrives at the restaurant to find Lola, Special Agent Harris, and a woman who appears to be precisely what would have happened if Mare Winningham's younger sister had joined the FBI. The younger Winningham's name is actually Agent Sanseverino, but in keeping with this week's equine theme, I'm going to stick with "Mare." Despite the offer of a latte and a scone, Adriana remains hostile, opening with "Eat shit, Danielle, or whatever the fuck your name is." Mare, however, just wants to ask a series of badly dubbed questions about Christopher's whereabouts. This whole subplot was apparently re-written in ADR, so every time someone mentions a name, it sounds like the audio is coming from the room. Adriana continues to protest that she knows nothing of value, and that Tony loves Christopher way too much to ever let anything bad happen to him. "He loved Pussy Bonpensiero," replies Mare. "Look what happened to him." She and Special Agent Harris rather sarcastically break the news that neither Pussy nor Richie Aprile is actually enjoying a new life in Arizona somewhere with Sammy Gravano. Then Lola stands up to leave, explaining that Mare will be Adriana's primary contact from this point forward. Then she adds, "And you know what we were talking about? About the little creatures? Good luck with that. I mean it." To me, Lola seemed pretty sincere on that line, and since they were looking at a book of little creature illustrations at the time the baby conversation occurred, it actually made more sense to me than it seems to have for some of our forum readers. Agent Harris tries to convince Adriana to make Tony her "area of focus," but Adriana being who she is, she ends up having to bolt to the bathroom to throw up again. Agent Harris smugly bites into his own scone, no doubt mentally thanking the writers for not staging another on-screen puke scene.

Casa de Soprano. Carmela and Tony are in the kitchen, standing close to one another by the stove. The mathematically inclined portion of my brain (which, to be honest, is very, very small and located somewhere behind the lobe in charge of remembering people's birthdays) wonders if it would be possible to devise a formula for measuring the emotional health of the Soprano marriage based solely on a geometric analysis of how far apart the director places Gandolfini and Falco. Carmela wants ten grand to invest in a medical stock her cousin Brian has been touting, but Tony insists that they "don't have that kind of money on hand." Then he reminds her about the sorry state of the economy, leading Carmela to get all passive-aggressive about the "wonderful opportunity" they're missing out on. Later that night, however, Tony sneaks out into the backyard in his robe (StR=792), and hurriedly retrieves what looks like much more than ten grand from the cash he hid amongst the bird feed. Perhaps he's found a "wonderful opportunity" of his own. And being ever mindful of this show's obsession with robes and meta-fictional references, I'm just going to assume he's found a sweet deal on a few hundred of these.

Oh, and before I forget, and just because I can, I'd like to wish my sister a happy birthday.

Cut to the stables at a local racetrack, where Joey Pants is leading Tony and a bunch of tertiary characters through the paddock. The only guy I don't recognize is puzzled by the presence of a goat mixed in with all the horses, and Hesh explains for us all that horses like to have other animals around for company. But you trivia buffs already knew that, right? They finally reach Joey's horse, and Tony gushes over what a beautiful animal she is. Joey, however, just rants and raves about how the horse has been losing races in the backstretch, despite the fact that the trainer insists nothing is wrong with her. Tony suggests holding her back a bit, so she'll still have something in the tank for a big finish. Trainer Lois disagrees, however, and the Rabbi Exposition of Bedminster makes clear that Lois is the bestest horse trainer in the whole wide world. Everyone agrees to defer to her judgment, although Joey does insist that she "tell that midget not to be shy with the whip." "If only his mother had taken that advice," snarks Hesh. Heh. I love Hesh. And given Joey's bedroom preferences, that last line may well have been exposition itself.

Junior's house. Murf (a.k.a. Wacky Old Guy) -- who has somehow become Junior's prison bitch before the trial even reaches a verdict -- is cleaning up after breakfast when Janice arrives. She's brought over a "gift" of the chicken Marsala Jojo Palmice made for Bobby Bacala. She even parrots Jojo's cooking instructions so Murf will know what to do. Heh. And also, mmmmmm. Chicken Marsala. I think it's time for a lunch break. When I return, Junior is ordering Murf to go fetch the car, and not to bother getting his jacket first because they're late for court. Janice just wants to talk about Bobby, however, and she's enthused to discover that Uncle Junior relies on him so much. Then she waxes poetic about the "psychological importance" of the "very healing day" that she and Bobby shared yesterday, which perturbs Junior because Bobby was at home instead of "taking care of something" for him. Of course, given that we later see Bobby "taking care" of that very something, and it takes him no more than three minutes to do so, my only question is, why wouldn't Bobby be at home? Anyway, Junior checks another item off his official creepy characterization checklist by stealing the change out of Murf's jacket in order to pay for the courthouse parking meters, and then he departs, declaring that "each of us is alone in this fucking universe." How very Nietzschean of him.

Back at the track, Tony is laying down his bet while he discusses Carmela's financial plans with Ginsberg the accountant. Mr. Ginsberg is fine with the idea of a blue-chip stock portfolio, even though Tony is concerned that "Carmela is a smart woman. If [she] starts winning in the market, it'll be Intel this and Coca-Cola that. It'll never end." Ignoring the barefoot-and-pregnant sexist sentiments Tony is expressing here, I can totally see Carmela becoming a day-trading junkie. AJ would never be able to get online again. CPA Ginsberg does, however, have issues with the trust Carmela wants to have set up. It seems that the type she's chosen is irrevocable, and while that does confer certain tax advantages, it also has the potential to make things very messy in the event of a divorce. Tony takes a moment to think about the implications of all this, and I'll use that moment to point out that Joey Pants has been waiting for them down at the end of the viewing stand this whole time, repeatedly hollering for Tony and wearing an outfit that practically screams "foppy cocksucker." Tony, of course, ignores him completely, but that's mostly just because he's listening to Ginsberg recommend that they go with an "inter vivo" trust instead. Gandolfini does a perfectly Homer Simpson-esque dumb take on that one, and we can actually see him mishearing the word in order to set up the malapropism that comes later. Before so much as a single "D'oh!" can escape his lips, however, the starting bell rings, and the race is off.

Why is it that every TV show in the history of the form has used stock footage for horse racing scenes? Can't anyone be bothered to actually go to a race and shoot their own stuff anymore? I mean, it's not like there aren't a lot of tracks in New Jersey, and this show has certainly filmed in less accommodating locations in the past (the Pine Barrens, for example), so would it really have killed them to go with the real thing? Besides, just think of all the great opportunities to product place everything from mint julep mix to Elmer's glue. Anyway, the announcer scores our official StTM points for the week (1,146 seconds) as he calls a race that looks like it was videotaped on a Betamax in 1984. Pie-O-My (that's Joey's horse, for anyone who hasn't noticed the episode title at the top of every single page in the recap) starts out in fifth place, trapped along the inside rail. After much screaming and exhortation from the boys, however, she breaks to the outside and finishes strong to win the race by half a length. Everyone is ecstatic, but it's Joey who is the happiest of them all, screaming that he won forty thousand dollars and that now he's rich. Which makes a nice contrast with Tony's estate planning, by the way. I also know everyone believes that it's significant that he has to sit down and clutch his chest here (especially since it happens again later on), but I honestly just think that was Pantoliano mugging for the cameras. Of course now that I've said that, he's totally going to drop dead of a massive coronary in the episode, but still.

Later on, everyone is gathered around watching an uncomfortable looking Hispanic woman in an "I Love Paris" sweatshirt getting her picture taken with the winning horse. After someone teases Joey that she's his girlfriend, CPA Ginsberg is forced to explain that she's actually his maid, and her name is on the racing license purely for legal reasons. Good lord, people. What is this, The Jews Do Exposition Week? Or is it some new way of celebrating Simchas Torah that I'm not aware of? As they walk back to the stables, Joey declares that Tony is a genius for suggesting that they hold the horse back until the end of the race. "You are not going unthanked," he declares. "I'm giving you a taste of my winnings." They're joined by the jockey, who incidentally is only a few inches shorter than Joey, and champagne is passed out for everyone. "Not for nothing," says Joey to the jockey, "the horse won, but that was not the agreed-upon strategy." Oy. What a tool. Lois the Trainer explains that the horse got trapped, and that the whole thing was a fluke, but both Silvio and Joey insist that Tony was nothing short of prescient. Despite Tony's repeated (but mostly likely faux) insistence that he doesn't need to be rewarded, Joey pulls out a wad of cash and hands it over.

Cut to Tony passing that same cash on to Carmela, who is collecting her weekly allowance of six hundred dollars. Damn. I was lucky to get a nickel when I was a kid. She also needs an additional $150 to buy football cleats for AJ, which Tony reluctantly hands over. When he then asks for a pen and the papers from Cousin Brian, Carmela's face lights up and she happily grabs them off the counter. They run through the documents, with Tony signing all but the last one. "But this is the trust," Carmela complains. "This is what it's all about." Her happiness quickly turns to fury, and Tony doesn't exactly help the situation by dancing around the kitchen and quoting Muhammad Ali in response. His line reading (or rather line slurring) of the word "irrevocable," however, does make me giggle. "It's the government, Carm," he explains by way of a bad excuse. "We gotta be flexible." He also suggests that they go with an "in vitro" trust instead. Um, he wants to save sperm? Well, every one is sacred, I guess. Carmela stomps off in a huff, and the interesting question for me here is whether or not she's being more clever than we sometimes give her credit for. Does she want Tony to sign so badly simply because she really is concerned that something might happen to him, or is this a planned opening in a stealth gambit that will eventually lead to divorce? It's hard to read either way, which I think is sort of this scene's point, so I'm curious to see how all this will end up.

Chris's Crack House. Adriana reads in bed, but when she hears the door open, she quickly snuggles under the covers and puts a wet towel over her forehead in the international sign for "I'm very sick, and also dripping on the pillow." Seriously. Who actually does the towel-on-the-forehead thing outside of TV and the movies? Chris comes in, all excited about their dinner at Tony's house that night, and is initially unwilling to accept that Adriana might be too ill to attend. And not just because she's so obviously lying about it, either. "You have to go," he whines. "This is the inner sanctum here. I'm not just a relative anymore. You think Paulie and his goomahs ever get invited to dinner with them?" Now that's a mental image that would truly frighten me if I didn't miss Paulie so damn much. Somebody tell Sirico to pop a Vicodin and get his ass down to the set. Realizing that his magical evening was not meant to be, Christopher grabs his paraphernalia out of the nightstand, and heads into the living room to shoot up. "Nothing ever goes my way," he sighs.

At Bobby's house, a dinner of an entirely different sort is being served by Janice. Although we do learn later that it was cooked by Carmela, so maybe it's not all that different. Anyway, Janice is doing a terrible job of trying to both chat up Bobby's kids and finagle her own invitation to stay and eat. Bobby finally extends said invitation, and Janice immediately hustles the kids into the living room to eat in front of the TV. Bobby Jr. could totally be Robert Iler's pre-diet little brother, by the way. Once the kids are gone, she sits down to Bobby and gently chides him for not taking care of Uncle Junior's business. She also implies that he could get whacked for not fulfilling his responsibilities. Or even worse, that he could become "a nobody." "I don't care anymore," answers Bobby. "I don't care if I live or die." "We lose that luxury when we have children," replies Janice, in what may be the only true statement she makes all week. She tells him about how hard it was when her husband left, and how she had "both barrels of a shotgun in [her] mouth" until she remembered her son Harpo. Hee! Harpo. As much as I just hate Brenda, I love to hate Janice. On the other hand, she was living in Seattle back then, so where was Kurt Cobain when we needed him? Janice reaches out to rub Bobby's shoulder as she tells him how much she, er, Uncle Junior loves him, and then proceeds to convince him to stop moping around and get back up on the horse. So to speak. ["For the horse's sake, let's hope so." -- Sars]

And speaking of horses, we're back at the track. Tony is there with Cousin Brian, discussing the possibility of setting up a living trust as opposed to the one Carmela wanted. Brian seems pretty understanding, so I'm beginning to doubt whether Carmela had that ulterior motive. And it's clear that Tony is at least trying to do right by her, so maybe there's hope that these crazy kids can work it out. They find Joey Pants and Trainer Lois by the stables, and after the de rigueur rude comment from Joey, Tony asks after the horse's well-being. They discuss strategy for the upcoming race, with Tony agreeing with Lois's suggestion that they let Pie run all out, due to the relatively short distance she'll be covering. I should also mention here that the horse herself is a pretty good actress, because she snorts and turns away just as Joey mouths off to Trainer Lois.

So then I guess maybe Pie was cast for her acting abilities rather than her racing skills, because we're back to the stock footage. This time she leads from wire to wire, and pulls away to win by at least two lengths. Everyone is thrilled, except for Brian, who only bet to show. "What did you win? Five bucks?" giggles Tony. "My financial advisor." Heh. Ever notice how all the pretty people on this show are always stupid? I mean, you've got Brian, Irina, Jackie Jr. -- hell, even Meadow. I'm just saying. "Anthony," says Joey Pants, "once again your horse wisdom is not going unappreciated." He pulls out his wad of cash and lays several bills into the palm of Tony's hand. Tony, however, keeps his hand out until Joey adds even more to the pile. Then he keeps it out even longer, forcing Joey to add a third set of bills. Heh. Tony sighs with a winner's contentment. Joey sighs with an underling's frustration.

Maison de Soprano. Tony comes home to find Carmela giving him the silent treatment in spite of the kitchen full of flowers he sent. Rather than simply tell her that he met with Brian to work on a new trust, he instead cops to the Frelinghuysen Avenue deal, and offers to use the proceeds to buy that stock she wanted. "It's too late," she answers. "It split. We missed it." She clomps up the stairs in disgust, and Tony takes a gigantic plate of meat out of the refrigerator and sits down to eat alone. And for those who were wondering, that's mustard he's dipping it in, not peanut butter.

Meanwhile, a leather-clad Bobby Bacala pulls up in front of a bar that might as well just be called "Irish!" for all the green lettering and shamrocks it's sporting. He heads inside, and sits down beside some random guy at the end of the bar. Pretending to be nothing more than a nice guy with a friendly interest in the joint-fitters union, Bobby strikes up a conversation with the random guy, who turns out to be the shop steward for Local 184. The conversation quickly turns to an upcoming election, with Bobby questioning why anyone would want to vote for Dick Hoffman over whatever Hoffa progeny may be running against him. "The pension has been ripped off for the last twenty-five years," explains Mr. Steward. Which also explains Junior's interest in the election. "You look like a smart guy," replies Bobby, who suddenly looks almost, well, menacing even. "I can see why your local puts their faith in you to do the right thing. I'm just saying, if it was me? I got kids that depend on me. Like yourself. And to waste my votes on somebody like Dick Hoffman, I might as well put a bullet in my head. Herehereand here." Heh. Go Bobby! Get down with your bad self. Literally. He downs his drink in one swallow, drops a few bills on the bar, and walks out without saying another word. Mr. Steward just sits there and stews.

Oh dear God. Apparently not satisfied with simple product placement, the show is now running full-on infomercials for Body By Jake. Adriana is home alone watching TV, clearly coked to the gills. Christopher comes in, and she jumps up to greet him with a kiss and a hyperactive offer to make him some scrambled eggs. As she cooks, a cigarette dangling precariously from her lips, she watches Christopher take out his gun and hide it in the closet. Then she suggests that they move to California. Yeah, right. That'll happen. Christopher shares my disdain for the idea, pointing out that she's burning the butter. "Let's be honest," she says. "What's our future here? You could end up in jail, or something horrible could happensomeone could have it in for you, you wouldn't know." Christopher gets angrier and angrier through all this, replying, "Fucking negative shit coming out of your mouth. I had that fucking bird watching me when I got made. I'm already under a what-do-you-call-it, possibly. So stop with that." "I worry about you, that's all," whispers Adriana. "I love you so much." "So if you love me, stir my eggs, okay?" he answers. Heh. That's almost, but not quite, the line of the night.

Crazy Horse. Joey Pants and his crew come in, looking for Tony. Thin Guy orders himself a drink; Wide Guy orders "nachos grande and a Diet Coke." Yeah, that'll help. Wide Guy also has a big stain on the front of his shirt, and then he knocks off the comedy trifecta by suggesting to Adriana that she play more Skynyrd. Hee! Back in her office, the boys complain about the smell, which Patsy Peesy identifies as mold. Are we sure he didn't just piss in the corner? Joey is in the process of explaining that mold can't kill you because cheese is made out of mold (yeah, I don't get it either) when Wide Guy tries to sit down at Adriana's desk. Her chair breaks, dumping him onto the floor, and the whole crew (plus everyone watching at home) immediately cracks up laughing.

Junior's house. Which, incidentally, looks a lot nicer on the outside than it does on the inside. Junior pulls on a cardigan, muttering, "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhoodand I gotta rot all day in that courtroom." Heh. Bet you never thought you'd see the day this show referenced Mr. Rogers. Then again, I've actually met Fred Rogers (he's an old-time Pittsburgher), and his personality is a lot closer to Uncle Junior's than you might expect. Let's just say I wouldn't want to be his neighbor in real life, okay? Junior sits down to watch the news, and since this is TV, he's just in time to see the report on his trial. The broadcast features a courtroom sketch which depicts Junior as a bug-eyed Mr. Magoo, and he doesn't take it very well. He is, however, relieved to hear from the newly arrived Bobby that the union thing is taken care of. "I'm glad to see you're back in the swing of things," he tells him, as tenderly as Junior knows how. Bobby credits Janice for helping him out, and Junior is weirded out by the thought of Janice doing something nice for anyone. He also IDs the lasagna she made for dinner the other night as being Carmela's, but Bobby refuses to believe that. And I don't see why it matters either way, because it's not like Janice couldn't have gotten the recipe from Carmela and made it herself. I mean, we all know she didn't, but that's still no reason for these two to have a nonsensical conversation just to establish something about Janice's character that we already knew.

David Chase: That was kind of harsh, don't you think?
Aaron: Well, yeah. But if anyone knows from nonsensical conversations, it's me.
David Chase: That's a good point. But still, would it really kill you to say something positive here in our time of need?
Aaron: Well, I do still like you more than Brenda.
David Chase: Shut up and finish the recap.

Crazy Horse, Part The Second. This time it's Chris and Adriana in the back room, with her complaining about the rude antics of Joey Pants and crew, who apparently ran up a two-hundred-dollar bar bill and didn't pay a cent. Adriana mentions Tony in passing, solely to set up Christopher for the preview-worthy line, "You don't know what this guy did for me. Not getting my stripes, something I can't talk about. Something that was ruining my whole life and he made it right. What I owe him, I would follow that man into hell." He further explains that the boys will be hanging around more often because the cops don't know about the place yet. Oh, sweet irony. Already pretty frustrated, Adriana goes to sit down in her chair, which of course collapses right out from under her. Hee! I totally should have seen that coming, but I didn't. As she struggles to climb off the floor, Christopher informs her that she'll be joining him for Sunday dinner at Tony's house, and this time she has to be there -- but not before guffawing at her.

Over at court, some lawyer is droning on and on about some post office box somewhere. How very Kafkaesque of him. Junior turns around to glare at the sketch artist, who gulps visibly in response.

Meanwhile, at the mall, Adriana rides an escalator and gives dating tips to her mother. Once again their conversation is interrupted by the FBI, as Adriana sees Mare waiting for her across the concourse. Cut to later, with Adriana, Mare, and Agent Harris sitting in a car. Since my calls for reader nickname submissions were so successful on Six Feet Under, I'm gonna challenge you all to come up with something good for Agent Harris. The guy is crying out for a nickname, and I can't think of anything good. Where's Marshall McLuhan when you need him? Anyway, they ask her about Convenianni, or whatever dubbed-in name he's going by these days. They also ask about Joey and his crew, and Mare helpfully reminds us that Wide Guy and Thin Guy have actual names (Vito Spatafore and Gene Pontecorvo, if you're interested). Adriana initially refuses to cooperate at all, but eventually admits that Patsy Peesy occasionally moves stolen suits out of the trunk of his car. And while the audio was a bit messed up, the lighting in this scene kicks ass in an admittedly very subtle sort of way.

Bobby's house. Janice is organizing a Tupperware party on the kitchen table. Or maybe she's just cleaning out all the casseroles from the fridge. Either way, Bobby comes in and they make some small talk about him and Uncle Junior. Janice is delighted when Bobby suggests they go out to dinner, but then crushed just as quickly when he shoots down her suggestion of Vesuvio because the kids like Chinese food. "Uh, MSG," replies Janice. "I collapsed one time in the Hunan Palace. Complete blackout." She is good, I'll give her that. Instead of going out, she opens the freezer and suggests that they eat Mrs. Bobby's ziti instead. Ooh, that's cold. And not just because it's been in the freezer for three weeks. "I'm not ready to eat that yet," says Bobby. The scene ends with a shot of him, and I can't tell if the look on his face means that he will be ready to eat it soon, or if he knows that she's playing him and he never will be.

Crazy Horse, Part The Third. This time it's Tony and Joey Pants in the office, having yet another nonsensical conversation that takes place here only to further Adriana's dramatic tension. Once business is dispensed with, Tony asks about Pie-O-My. Only he calls her "our girl," using a possessive pronoun that Joey immediately picks up on. An oblivious Tony suggests that they switch the horse over to titanium shoes, and Joey readily agrees, presumably because he's already counting the revenue from the inevitable Nike Titanium product placement.

Later that night, Joey is in bed with the hoor du jour, or whoever he's gotten to handle the pegging duties now that Janice and Rosalie are out of the picture. Heh. If you say "pegging duties" out loud, it's a lot funnier than I meant it to be. If you're twelve, that is. And I am. His phone rings, and I'm more than a little disappointed that it's the land line instead of his cellular. I wanted to hear Rocky again. It's his maid on the phone, but Joey makes the hoor take a message. Or at least try to, because the maid is frantically explaining in broken English that the horse is sick, and the vet won't do anything because Joey hasn't paid his bill. Faced with the possibility of having to get out of bed and go down to the track on a rainy night, Joey instead orders her to call some other phone number. Then he pulls out the amyl nitrate and a Hello Kitty vibrator, and things really get ugly. Or maybe I just imagined that.

Das Sopranohaus. Tony lies in bed, watching yet another History Channel documentary on World War II. Unfortunately, AJ is blasting some music on his stereo, so he can't hear anything. You'd think they'd have learned their lesson with Meadow's music last week, but I guess not. Carmela comes into the room, and Tony points out that Winston Churchill is on the screen. Then he adds, "Remember you saw that TV movie you liked about him." Oy. That's not even clever. And besides, the only reason that movie won any Emmys is that IT DIDN'T HAVE ANY FUCKING ADVERTISEMENTS IN IT. Listen, I love a self-promotional reference just as much as the guy, but there is a limit to how much we can take. Carmela clearly agrees with me at any rate, because she heads wordlessly back into the bathroom and cranks up the hair dryer. I think this episode's secondary theme is apparently audio problems, because Tony once again has to struggle to hear his cell phone ringing. And yep, you guessed it -- it's Joey's maid, and she's still babbling about the sick horse. As Tony contemplates making his own trip down to the stables on a rainy night, Winston Churchill lobs an anvil from the TV in the form of a quote which reads: "I am now nearing the end of my journey. I hope I still have some services to render." Um, yeah. We. Get. It. Somebody tell Foreshadowing he can take a break until it's time for the actual shadowing. Anyway, Tony gets up and starts to get dressed, which finally captures Carmela's interest enough for her to actually speak to him. When she discovers his intended destination, she's incensed at the thought that he bought a race horse when he won't even buy her stock. "I didn't buy it," protests Tony. "It followed you home?" shoots back Carmela. Hee! Now THAT'S the line of the night.

Adriana's Anxiety Abode. She comes home soaking wet, with her hair down to her back and her boots up to her knees. It's all very Tommy Hookerware. She also takes off her shirt and stands around in just her bra, I guess as a sop to all the people who've complained that we haven't seen enough of the Bing girls this season. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. She pauses for a minute, and then reaches into the nightstand for Christopher's bag of heroin supplies. The diamond bracelet, which has jumped arms again, slides down over her wrist to reveal a diamond tattoo, which is also on the opposite arm from the star we saw before. There's something very freaky going there. Desperately in need of an escape from the trauma of what her life has become, she shoots up straight into her arm, and then nods off with the little dog sitting silently in her lap.

Finally, Tony arrives at the stables and dashes through the pouring rain to pay off the veterinarian. Okay, if you were a vet, and someone told you that Tony Soprano was coming down in the middle of the night to pay you off personally, don't you think you'd be a little more apt to provide better customer service than this guy? I'm just saying. Tony forks over the cash, along with a withering glare and a thinly veiled threat, and for the one-millionth time this season, I marvel at David Chase's obsessive need to use each and every take where the actors can be seen spitting while they talk. Tony walks into Pie's stall, and tenderly pats her a few times as he sits down on a nearby stool. They're joined by the goat (who, if the music over the end credits is to be believed, is apparently named "Rifle"), and Tony sits back to enjoy a simple Rio Bravo moment amongst the little creatures. Fade to black.

David Chase: Now, see? What could be a more powerful ending than a man and his goat? And you thought we were the jumping the shark.
Aaron: Well, see, what I really meant was
John Wells: Sorry to barge in on you guys, but I just wanted to say that if you have jumped the shark, it's okay. I did it years ago, and no one really seem to care.
Marti Noxon: Yeah, me too.
Henry Winkler: Hey, I did it first, you know!
Aaron Sorkin: Um, hello?!? Acknowledged master of the genre, standing right here! My ratings are off thirty percent, for God's sake.
Everyone Ever Associated With Television: Get out. Now.