God bless Daylight Savings Time.
We open on an artfully-conceived pan across Christopher's couch, showing that he and Adriana have opted for a nice relaxing evening of drug use and documentaries about stonecutters. In what I'm taking as an homage to Claire's drug scene in the Six Feet Underpilot, Adriana's little mutt is munching on the piece of pizza she's dropped in her lap. You know, where I come from, we call those things "field goal dogs," because they're just the right size for kicking. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted that. Anyway, this lovely domestic tableau is interrupted when Tony calls and orders Christopher to meet him in a parking lot somewhere. Desperate to snap out of his drug-induced haze, Chris sets down the syringe in his hand and slaps himself across the face a few times.
Flick…ahhhh. Cut to a mop-topped young man lighting a cigarette and pontificating on the possible resumption of the draft to an audience of AJ and some other adolescents. One of whom, by the way, is blonde, female, quite cute, and draped all over AJ. But more on her later. Meanwhile, two other young boys, whom I've decided to call Ping and Pong because their only characterization comes from the various games that they play, announce that AJ will never have to worry about joining the military because "his old man will put a horse's head in some senator's bed." Heh. Then again, I'd be kinda surprised if Tony even knows who his senators are. Oh, wait. Torricelli. Never mind. AJ's friends go on to display a vast knowledge of the intimate details of the Godfather series, which I find difficult to accept amongst a demographic that's mostly going to be lined up outside theaters to see Jackass this weekend. They tease him about everything from having attack dogs on the property ("She got hit by a dog") to his father's "legit" "business" of "waste management" ("Garbage?" "Recycling."). Mop-Top's ears really perk up, however, when the Bada Bing is mentioned, and much to the dismay of AJ's female friend, they all decide to go check the place out.
A parking lot. Christopher is dozing in his car, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, when Tony and Furio screech up beside him. After a quick nudge from Foreshadowing, Furio notices Christopher slapping himself awake while Tony climbs out of the car. He and Chris head over to a darkened corner of the lot, making small talk about hijacked washing machines and vacuum cleaners as they go. Perhaps noticing that the boy ain't entirely right, Tony wonders if Chris has been drinking. "Me and Ade had some wine at the house," replies Christopher, which, for a variety of reasons, is only true if you add an extra "H" to the sentence. Before he gets down to the nitty-gritty of the meeting, Tony reaches into Christopher's jacket pocket for a cigarette, with a motion that could also be interpreted as checking him for a wire. Remember that later when Tony tries to decide if being Machiavellian comes to him naturally. Finally, he delivers his little spiel: "I gotta make it my number one priority to limit my exposure to potentially damaging conversations and wiretaps," he says. "So over the couple of years, more and more, I'm going to be giving my orders through you. And finally, only through you." Christopher asks about the implications of all this for Paulie and Silvio, and Tony replies that those guys aren't "[his] blood" and that, in keeping with the episode's Billy Joel motif, the whole thing is "a matter of trust." And while we're on the subject, I'm beginning to wonder if Tony's newfound obsession with blood is somehow related to the writers' newfound obsession with foreshadowing his doom. I'm just saying. "You're gonna take this family into the twenty-first century," explains Tony, like the proud uncle he only barely is. "We're already in the twenty-first century," answers Christopher, before recovering and explaining that he would follow Tony "through the gates of hell" as payback for Tony finding the man who killed his father. "I only hope I'm worthy," he adds, as Foreshadowing and Irony fight over who gets to shove a hand up his butt and make his mouth move. Finally, they hug, and the scene comes to an oddly abrupt end.
In another part of town, AJ and crew are cruising around, looking for the strip club. When he finally spots someplace familiar, AJ orders Pong to pull over. Aww. I miss Pong. And now you'll have to excuse me while I take a quick X-Box break. When I get back, the gang has discovered that AJ has led them to Satriale's instead of the Bada Bing. "Oh shit, this place is the pork store," realizes AJ. "It's a gay strip club?" wonders Ping. Heh. AJ explains, "This is where my father's office is," which prompts Mop-Top to ask if it's a front, "like Genco Olive Oil." "It looks very clandestine," adds Blondie, in what has to be the most pathetic attempt at winning someone's affections since I last begged Sars not to fire me. On the other hand, how funny is it that AJ can't even remember basic directions?
Maison de Soprano. Carmela comes downstairs in her nightgown and robe, which you should enjoy while it lasts, because it's the only robe you'll see all week. I guess this is what happens when you let outsiders like Steve Buscemi direct your episodes for you. She blathers about AJ being out past curfew, and then gets to the real point of the scene, which is her embarrassed surprise at finding Furio in the house. She pulls the robe closed tightly around herself, and there's some blah blah awkwardness before he turns to leave.
Later, Tony is already in bed when Carmela comes in to join him. Since the vast majority of the dialogue in this scene consists of nothing but thinly veiled exposition, I'll just break it down for you: First off, Carmela wants to fix up Furio with her dental hygienist, a lovely young woman who's been having an affair with the dentist but now seems "very receptive" to the idea of dating Furio. I'll just bet she is. "She's not his type," mumbles Tony, while no doubt enjoying visions of Icelandic stewardesses and kneecapped Asian massage therapists. "Oh? What is his type?" replies Carmela, while no doubt enjoying visions of a sweaty, naked Furio planting grapes and signing life insurance trusts. Tony calls his wife "my little Hello Dolly" while poking his finger into her ear in an ultimately vain attempt to distract her from continuing with the exposition. Now she explains all about how she took the Mercedes that Tony was just riding in to the garage for repairs, where an overly talkative sales clerk apparently informed her that Gloria Trillo, "that nice saleslady" who once gave her a ride home, has recently committed suicide. Dun dun DUN! Carmela's demeanor through all this would seem to indicate that she still has no idea Gloria was giving her husband rides of a very different sort, even when she informs a speechless Tony that the woman hung herself from a chandelier. And while I can't really praise the method of reveal here in the script, I can at least give credit to those sneaky editors in the promo department, who set this one up perfectly.
Vesuvio. The new hostess is a pretty young thing who, despite the obvious differences inherent in the fact that she's both French and a brunette, still manages to remind us that Adriana once held this very job via the leopard-print top she's wearing. Over at the bar, Artie is deep in conversation with a middle-aged man who is quickly revealed to be the hostess's brother. It seems he needs $50,000 to purchase the North American distribution rights for something called "Domaine Vezelay Armangac." "It's the vodka," he explains. Um, okay. Whatever you say there, Captain Jacques. "I tell my brother you know people who people who lend money," adds Elodi, or Cosette or Tennille or whatever the hell her name is. After taking a brief moment to sexually harass his employee, Artie tells Captain Jacques that since the people he knows don't know Jacques, Artie will, in effect, be taking on the role of lender. They dicker over the vig, which is a fun sentence to say out loud, and then settle on a rate that Alan Greenspan sees only in his wildest dreams. Business thus settled, Charmaine arrives to break things up by sending Elodi to clear an empty table. Oy. I don't know what Katherine Narducci was up to over the hiatus, but Charmaine looks horrible. She seems to have aged ten years since the last time we saw her. Upon hearing her name, Captain Jacques wants to know if she's French. "Not remotely," replies Artie.
Back in the kitchen, we learn that Charmaine's attitude has deteriorated even faster than her looks. Artie reminds her that Elodi is a hostess and not a busboy, then sets down the tray he's carrying so as to have better use of both hands for gesticulating wildly while he explains that the deal he just closed wouldn't pass Charmaine's incredibly high "Wharton School of Business" standards. Perhaps his wife's haggard appearance is the result of having to carry the excess weight of all her clunky expository dialogue. "If you want to bring in some meaningful money, why don't you get your friend Anthony Soprano to pay his tab. It's close to $6,000, Arthur." Then she makes sure to also let us know that their daughter needs $10,000 worth of orthodontia. Which means that if Carmela had fixed up Artie with the dental hygienist instead of Furio, then everyone's problems would be solved, and we could have skipped the entire episode.
Can you tell it's getting to that point in the season where I start lamenting the fact that HBO doesn't do repeats?
Globe Mercedes. Tony wanders in, wearing slacks and leather jacket and looking for all the world like the sort of guy no self-respecting Mercedes salesman would even look at twice. In spite of this, the most informative man in the world soon comes over to help him out. Barely clinging to the pretense that he's there to buy a car, Tony quickly asks after Gloria and just as quickly receives confirmation of her suicide. Informative Guy then goes on to inform us about all the sordid personal details of her death, including the rumor that "she wasn't very lucky with men," and the fact that her purported suicide note was actually copy for a classified ad. Incidentally, I don't think I'm going to be much help in settling the whole wolf stole/stove debate that's been raging in the forums. I've listened to it about a dozen times, and it could really go either way. The closed-captioning says "stole," and that is certainly something I can imagine Gloria wearing. On the other hand, there's also extended bit in the upcoming dream sequence that revolves around her oven, so "stove" seems to be an equally plausible option. Who knows? If anyone associated with the show is reading this, we've re-opened registration specifically so you can log in and provide an answer. We'd love to hear from you. Especially if you're more informative than Informative Guy.
Over at Pants's Place, Joey and Wide Guy are enjoying a leisurely afternoon together when Artie stops by. Joey makes a few restaurant "jokes" that I can't even bring myself to transcribe, then offers to have Wide Guy clean Artie's chef uniform by sucking the stains out. Pure class, that Joey Pants. Anyway, they sit down, and Artie delivers a series of incredibly bad lies as he asks to borrow $50,000. I'm serious, people. Tiger Woods couldn't hit out of those lies. And if you think that joke was bad, you should be really happy I didn't repeat Joey's. Joey considers his options for a moment, then politely declines the request. "If you don't pay me back," he explains, "I ain't gonna be able to hurt you." You know, that may very well be the most sensible thing Joey Pants has ever said on this show.
Hmm. What's this? We're in an unfamiliar wood-paneled room with two chairs facing each other in the center. I can't help but feel like I've been here before, but I'm having a hard time placing it. And now there's like this strange woman asking Tony about his feelings. What's up with…oh! Now I remember! It's Melvis! No, wait…it's Malthus, right? Melbourne? Meltdown? Melanoma? What? Oh. Melfi. That's right. Thanks. It seems the show's Start-to-Therapy counter has stopped somewhere in the high five-figure range, as Tony sits down across from his doctor and cheerfully asks if Gloria Trillo is "still hanging around." Heh. "It's a terrible tragedy," sighs Melfi. Tony instantly leaps out of his chair, swearing and spitting, and we're treated to yet another scene of Tony menacing Melfi while she calmly explains how scared she is. They finally bring her back, and it's for this? Sorry, Lorraine. He's enraged that she didn't tell him about Gloria, but Melfi clunks, "I give my patients everything I've got, and when something like this happens, I'm devastated." That manages to calm Tony enough for him to sit back down, and he even gingerly replaces the Kleenex box he knocked off the table. "She was a good kid," he laments. "But she was fucking crazy, and I told you." And the indignities continue to mount. Now she's even got Tony diagnosing patients for her. He goes on to rationalize his decision to end their affair, but he's also quick to blame himself, pointing out that she killed herself after their break-up. Will Melfi get a chance to help him through these problems? What do you think? Yep, that's right. End of scene.
Artie's house. Tony comes over, looking more than a little disheveled. He's upset that Artie went to Joey instead of him for the money, but Artie explains that he didn't want to impinge on their friendship. "If Melissa had a tumor instead of an overbite -- Madonna Santa, knock on wood," he explains, "you'd be the first place I went to." There's no way I can do justice to the hand gestures Artie makes for "tumor" and "overbite," so just know that they were really funny. Tony asks for details on the business venture, and Artie explains everything we already know, only this time he does it with his pants unzipped. I'm not making that up. He shows Tony a bottle of the stuff, repeats Captain Jacques's "new vodka" line, and then finally manages to button up his trousers. Tony insists on lending him the money, but Artie still says no. "What the fuck am I?" shouts Tony. "A toxic person or something?" He uses that bit of psychiatric jargon several times this week, so just think about how much better it might have been if we'd actually gotten to hear Melfi put it in his head. I'm just saying. Finally Artie caves in, and Tony hands over a wad of cash to get him started. When it comes up later, just remember that this was all Tony's idea. They exchange a manly hug, and then Tony grabs the bottle off the table and stomps out the door.
Outside, he rips the cork off and takes a giant swig straight from the bottle. Oh, Tony. Have we learned nothing from the chicken Vindaloo?
Cut to a door opening, which reveals a well-dressed and apparently alive Gloria Trillo. She looks thrilled to see Tony, who's decked out in a suit himself. "Dinner's almost ready," she says as he comes inside. Such was the craftiness with which this episode's promo was assembled that I actually spent the better part of the week assuming that Tony's line would be, "You're not going to throw it at me, are you?" For those viewers who were slow to pick up on the whole alcohol-induced dream sequence thing we've got going here, Steve Buscemi cranks up the melancholy opera on the soundtrack and provides a long, lingering shot of the black scarf which is wrapped around Gloria's neck. Tony takes yet another swig from his bottle of armagnac, and then suddenly we're at the kitchen table, with Gloria cuddled softly in Tony's lap. There's some kissing and grabbing of breasts, and then the oven timer dings, and she jumps up to check on dinner. And now I'm almost willing to forgive all the exposition they had to cram into twenty minutes just to get here, because the shot of Gloria's long scarf trailing from her neck all the way back to wrap around Tony was perfect. Because -- do you get it? She hung herself on him? Nice one, Steve. She opens the oven to baste dinner with a few disgusting sound effects, but Tony is distracted by some plaster that's fallen into his drink. He looks up to see the chandelier pulled halfway out of the ceiling, and then Gloria is right back in front of him. "Which do you want to see?" she asks, putting one hand between her legs. "This?" The other hand reaches for her scarf. "Or this?" She slowly pulls the fabric away from her neck, and…
Tony jerks awake in bed. You know, if he'd been wearing a comfortable robe, he'd be a lot less likely to have nightmares, don't you think? He stumbles out of bed, and as I laugh at his bald spot in the bathroom mirror, he downs a Prozac and Advil cocktail. Only the Prozac gets a product placement. From downstairs, Carmela hollers that Cousin Brian has arrived, and Tony tries to pull himself together.
And he apparently succeeds, because now he's in the living room with Brian and Carmela. She's delighted that Tony has agreed to sign a living trust, which presumably includes the modifications his accountant suggested last week. "You have made me so happy, Tony," she gushes. "And if I was, like, obnoxious about this, I'm sorry." Wow. A Melfi scene and a Carmela apology, all in the same episode? I guess this is what happens when you let insiders like Michael Imperioli wrote your episodes for you. An oven timer dings in the background, and while Tony's eyes flicker ever so slightly in recognition, Carmela jumps up to fetch the "lava cookies" she's making for a bake sale. Before she leaves, however, she does manage to exposit that Brian and his wife will be joining them at a Billy Joel concert the following week. She also expresses disappointment that Tony couldn't get enough tickets for Furio and the dental hygienist to come with them. "Hesh's guy could only get six [tickets]," explains Tony, without looking too upset about it. And I should give credit yet again to this show's unerring ethnic accuracy. Nobody knows Billy Joel like the Jews. On the way out, Tony compliments Brian's suit, and gives him a card with Patsy Peesy's phone number on it. Uh oh. This isn't gonna end well. Something tells me Brian is going to Oz.
Vesuvio. Artie and Elodi wait nervously for something, and then the bar phone gives a single ring. Artie grabs a small package from beneath the counter and heads out back, where he finds Captain Jacques waiting for him. He hands over the money without saying a word.
Casa de Soprano. AJ and his little friend are macking junior Mafia-style on the living room sofa. For the record, AJ is no better at that than he is anything else. Carmela's unexpected arrival causes them to bolt upright, and AJ sheepishly introduces Blondie to his mother. Her name is Devin, by the way. Mom asks him to turn down the stereo, and AJ has to awkwardly adjust the crotch of his pants as he clambers off the sofa. Hee! I remember those days. Mostly because they were just last week. AJ performs double duty when he sets his can of Diet Coke down on an end table, because he first makes sure to put it label-out for the product placement, and then also sets up Carmela's line, when she warns him to be careful of her Lladro figurine. She mentions how expensive it is, and even makes sure to drop the actual figure ($3,000) so that Devin will be impressed. Ah, if only she knew. Or had actual good taste. We used to sell Lladros at the department store where I worked, and we often referred to them as the only objet d'art less classy than a velvet Elvis. Sorry if you're a collector or anything.
Anyway, Devin is distressingly disappointed by the fact that they no longer have a quiet location for AJ to continue groping her. He suggests her place, which is out because her mother's boyfriend is using it as an office, and she won't be at her dad's house until later in the epis…er, week. Finally, AJ comes up with the brilliant idea of using Meadow's dorm room. He mentions that they can take a bus into the city, but Devin offers to put the cost of a car service onto Foreshadowing's Amex card. If would have been funnier if she'd charged it to the Underhills, but I guess you can't have everything. AJ calls his sister, who gives them directions to find her at a location that anyone even remotely familiar with New York City street numbers will instantly recognize as a very bad neighborhood. It is near Yankee Stadium, though -- right, Sars? Not that those two are mutually exclusive, mind you. As they pull on their coats, Devin has a confession to make: "I pictured your house different," she says. "I thought it'd be like Don Corleone's compound, with a gate, walls, big old Cadillacs. Isn't that stupid?" Aww. She's so cute. "Our place in Tahoe looks exactly like Michael's in II," replies AJ, and Devin is suitably impressed. Or at least she is until he admits that they don't actually have a place in Tahoe. "We do have a boat, though," he says through a smile. Wow. I think that may be the first time in the history of the show AJ has actually managed to seem cool. I think Devin might actually be a good catch for him. And I'm not just saying that because she's rich. "I'm like a gangster dude's girlfriend," she whispers as they kiss.
Cut to the Bronx, where AJ and Devin have arrived at the address Meadow gave them. And yes, it is a really bad neighborhood. Devin isn't quite sure they're in the right place. "Columbia?" she wonders. "This is, like, Harlem." Oh, okay. Heh. Because, you know, Columbia actually is in Harlem. ["Well, technically it's in Morningside Heights, but…same difference." -- Sars] The driver corrects them by explaining it's the Bronx, which I already told you, and then AJ spots a sign for the legal center where Meadow works. They slowly climb out of the car, and as AJ begs the driver not to leave without them, Steve Buscemi provides us with an ominous shot of their reflection in the car's tinted windows.
Inside the law center, Meadow quickly comes out to meet them. She's dressed in a very businesslike suit, and seems quite proud to be able to utter the immortal big sister line, "When did you get taller than me?" AJ neglects to introduce Devin, so Meadow has to do it herself, and then AJ pulls her aside for a private conversation. After mocking her for hanging out with the great unwashed on a Friday night, AJ proceeds to ask for permission to use her room for what he so charmingly refers to as, "Um, you know." Meadow is just as disgusted by that idea as any respectable sibling would be, and flat-out refuses to let him get busy in her bed. And thank God. I don't even like to imagine my sister kissing a guy, never mind having sex in my own bed. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, my sister is the only twenty-eight-year-old virgin left in America who's never been cast on a reality show. And no, you can't have her phone number. Meadow is disappointed, because she thought the three of them were going to be all snooty and go into the city to see her friend's poetry reading, and blah blah shut-up-Meadow-cakes. "The greatest cultural center in the world," she chides AJ, "and you came here for sex?" Well, yeah. What's wrong with that?
Later, AJ and Devin are cruising around in the back of their hired car. They're having one of those conversations where really stupid people espouse their really pretentious thoughts about really boring sociological phenomena they know nothing about. So I'll spare you the details. Just assume it was really boring on the surface, and yet bitingly ironic in the subtext. Anyway, AJ's whole point is that he's lucky to be rich, because one of his friends lives in a house with five people, and -- gasp -- no dining room! Devin agrees, but looks guilty for doing so.
Vesuvio. Elodi flirts a bit with Artie, and even though he still gives off that creepy Chester The Molester vibe he gets around pretty girls, she seems to be enjoying herself. She even pulls up her shirt a bit to show off the belly she's getting from eating all his gnocchi, and yep, the girl is officially hot. I'm a sucker for a good bellybutton. Artie, however, is just a plain old sucker, as evidenced by the fact that he now admits Captain Jacques isn't even returning his phone calls. Elodi gives a half-hearted excuse about time zones (I can't count how many times I've tried that one on Sars at eight-thirty on a Sunday night), and then returns to flirting by offering up a French CD for Artie to play over the PA system. She scampers off to refill the flower vases, and Charmaine cruises by to get in another dig at her husband.
At the gym, Adriana and Carmela are working out, and yes, Adriana is wearing leopard print. If nothing else, at least she's consistent. They chat about Christopher for a moment, and Adriana claims that he's been suffering from the flu, and as a result, they won't be able to make it to the Billy Joel concert. In other words, the angry young man, who's been under a lot of pressure for the longest time now, has decided to dispense with honesty so that he and his uptown girl can stay at home and give themselves big shots of heroin. Or something like that.
Vesuvio yet again. Janice is literally sucking the life out some bones, as she chows down on the marrow. Tony sits across the table, appearing only mildly disgusted by her eating habits. "Remember Ma with the bone?" asks Janice. "Sounded like half-price day at the liposuction center." Heh. I can totally picture Livia like that. Artie comes by to clear their plates and serve dessert, and he even offers them a "nice armangac" to go with it. Janice rejects that idea based on the "histamines," and instead orders a glass of something ridiculously expensive so that we're again reminded of Artie's financial problems. Once he departs, Tony casually mentions the fact that Janice has been spending time with Bobby Bacala. Remembering his reaction to her and Joey Pants, Janice is instantly defensive, but Tony's intentions are actually somewhat noble. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaims. "Am I such an ogre? I was just gonna say he was a nice guy. A salut…What am I, a toxic person?" I'm not sure whether to note the foreshadowing repetition of "toxic person" here, or to point out the irony in Tony calling himself an ogre after Janice just cracked open a bone and sucked out the marrow. So, apparently, I'll do both. Janice apologizes for thinking bad thoughts, and then adds, "You're a great brother. We can go at it pretty good, but you always seem to reach out when it counts." And also whenever she's shot somebody. Tony gets quiet for a moment, and then asks if she's ever known anyone who killed themselves. "Plenty," answers Janice. "I used to live in Seattle." She goes on to tell the sad story of one "Murray Furlong," who lived in the apartment above hers. Murray was often gone for long periods of time, leading some to speculate that he was in the CIA. Janice just thought he was gay. "I don't know," she comments. "Maybe that's not mutually exclusive." Heh. Anyway, Murray "sucked down the end of a deer rifle," and Janice felt responsible because their last conversation was an argument about her accepting Fed Ex packages for him. Artie returns to the table at this point, staying just long enough for Tony to request that he add the entire meal to his tab.
A few moments later, Artie follows Tony into the men's room to inform him that he's been having trouble with Captain Jacques. Tony gives his friend a few lessons on the proper collection procedures for this type of situation, and then finishes up by quoting the favorite expression of the worst boss I've ever had: "You've gotta get your arms around this thing," he tells Artie. Then he makes him promise to actualize his potential, and demand greatness from himself and others. Or maybe he just tells Artie to go visit the Captain in person. I'm not sure which.
Back at home, Artie is practicing his best confrontational lines in the mirror. Here's a few samples:
1. "Oh! You're home! I called you five times. Qu'est que c'est? Message machine broken?"
2. "Those fucking shoes you wear, what are they, designer?"
3. "You fucking avoiding me, motherfucker?"
4. [My personal favorite] "Are you gonna cry now? Stand up, you frog-eating faccia de graz. I will fuck you up!"
That last one is punctuated with a little kung fu move that really sells the line. Again, you'll just have to trust me.
And because it wouldn't be right if he wrote the whole script and only gave himself one scene, we now get a brief but ultimately pointless interlude wherein Christopher and some random guy get really high and look like shit. I especially could have lived without the part where random guy pukes. If you can't top the Adriana scene, you shouldn't even try.
An elevator door slides open to reveal that noted bad motherfucker, John Shaft. Except for some reason, he's now white, balding, and not at all intimidating. Oh, all right. Fine. It's actually Artie. I know. Shut your mouth. And besides, he really is wearing a vintage seventies leather coat. He struts over to Captain Jacques's apartment and rings the bell. Jacques opens the door to let him in, and Artie trips all over himself trying to get out his rehearsed dialogue. They make small talk for a minute, and then Artie demands his money. Captain Jacques, however, claims not to have it, and blames the whole thing on Credit Lyonnais. Yeah. If that didn't work for the BCCI, I'm not sure why Jacques thinks it'll help here. By the way, if you got that joke, you really need to get out more often. When Artie's nervousness starts to show, Captain Jacques realizes he might be able to get away with this. He spins some story about marketing failures and whatnot, and when Artie demands the immediate return of his money, Jacques tells him to be a "big boy" and just "move on." Artie then grabs him by the throat, and what follows is a ridiculous girl-fight punctuated by expletives in various funny foreign accents. The fight ends when Jacques rips Artie's earring out, then shoves him into the hallway, moaning in pain.
Elsewhere, AJ and Mop-Top are heading over to Devin's house. As they drive, Moppy delivers the following sex advice to AJ: "The thing is to keep knocking on the door without going in right away. You gotta poke the perimeter and tap on the gate until she's out of her fucking mind and begging. Then you own that shit. That pussy is yours." Shut up, Harry Notter. And furthermore, my plans to use that nickname for him in the future are only compounded when he proceeds to actually uses the word "forsooth" in a sentence. God, what a tool. AJ reports that he's heard Devin's house is nice, and then the boys pull up in front of a cute little home with a gate in front. Harry describes the place as "sort of Bo Peepish," but that's only until he realizes it's just the gatehouse. Heh. After announcing themselves into the intercom, the boys drive into what appears to be an incredibly large estate. They pull up in front of a house that dwarfs even Das Sopranohaus, and are questioned by a security guard until Devin runs out to claim them. AJ walks over to his girlfriend, and offers up a pretty lame, "Wow. Nice place."
Meanwhile, Artie is attempting to drown his sorrows with Vicodin and Armangac. That's probably not a good idea. He sits in his living room, sobbing and feeling sorry for himself, but the sad truth is that I just can't bring myself to care about this particular plotline. Artie has always been portrayed as a clown on this show, and while it's true that he's a damn good one, it's also true that clowns are always better in small doses. Especially when they're not even the crying-on-the-inside kind. I guess he's just not important enough to me to merit an A plot like this one, but I suppose there are also plenty of people who felt that way about Hesh in "A Hit Is A Hit" or some other featured player in some other episode I can't think of right now. So while all you Artie fans out there rejoice, I'm just going to move on to the paragraph, because that one has nudity.
Tony is lolling about in bed, with a half-naked Icelandic stewardess draped across his chest. I gotta say, body hair looks much better on Gandolfini than it does on Krause. I'm not sure why that is. In any case, Tony and the bimbette discuss the various geological and tectonic implications of volcanic activity in Hawaii (no, really, they do), but they're interrupted by his cell phone. Admonishing her to be quiet, he rolls over and grabs the phone out his discarded pants. He then positions himself so that he can spend a significant portion of the remainder of the scene with her breasts pressed against his stomach. I bet Jim really likes his job. It's Artie on the phone, and he's calling to cry some more and then apologize to Tony for failing to collect on the loan. He also admits to having taken a lot of pills, and then passes out. Tony is obviously freaked by his second brush with suicide in such a short time, and he frantically dashes around the room while trying to pull on his clothes. Finally he settles down enough to call 911, figuring "they'll do him more good than [he] can."
Maison de Devin. She leads the boys into an immense living room, and the first thing AJ notices is the collection of Picassos hanging on the wall. After verifying that they're real, AJ first comment is, "They're all cocks." Heh. Harry Notter tools some more about how expensive everything is, and then wanders off to inflict his pretentious knowledge of brand names on someone in the room. Meanwhile, AJ is left alone with Devin, and he's not quite sure how to handle the knowledge that she's way richer than he is. "I just wish you would have said something," he tells her. "I feel so stupid, with my mother's stupid Lladro." That's the spirit, AJ. And between that sentiment and his abilities to identify Picassos on sight, I think we may have a budding art student in our midst. Devin tries to defend herself, saying that her father's money shouldn't matter. AJ seems to agree, but they end up just sitting there in an awkward silence.
Daniel: Man, those paintings have more cocks than the Poultry Sciences Department at the University of South Carolina.
Aaron: Still working on that catchphrase, huh?
Daniel: Yeah. It's not going well.
Tony rushes into a hospital room to find Artie, who is apparently alive and only slightly the worse for the wear. He's still a schlub, though. After sobbing silently for a moment, and thus giving me enough time to make a macro for the phrase "Artie cries some more," he then explains to Tony that the money is all gone, and he has no hope of collecting it. Tony, however, is more concerned that Artie felt he couldn't talk to Tony about the problem. Basically, they're both feeling sorry for themselves. When Tony somewhat heartlessly points out that Artie has already missed a payment and is also late on the vig, the poor guy sobs even more and offers to give Vesuvio over to Tony as payment. What the hell is Tony going to do with a restaurant? Burn it down? Tony apparently agrees with me on this one, because he refuses to accept. Instead, they decide to wipe out his tab and pretend that Captain Jacques is dead. Artie is suitably grateful, but then understanding seems to dawn in his eyes. "The cobwebs are now removed," he declares. "You saw this whole thing, didn't you? You knew exactly what was gonna happen." Yeah, so? Anyone who's ever watched the show knew what was going to happen here. "It's like an instinct," continues Artie. "Like a hawk sees a little mouse moving around a cornfield from a mile up. Somebody mentions fifty grand to bankroll a French digestif, and your mind goes through all the permutations at like internet speed and realizes, worst case scenario, 'I eat for free.'" Heh. Internet speed. Tony doesn't find it funny in the least, however, as he takes this to mean that Artie blames him for causing this whole mess. Which, technically speaking, he did. Tony demands that they keep the suicide attempt a secret, and forces Artie to claim that he was mugged. He even steals the guy's wallet to help the cover story. "Enough people hate me," he shouts, grabbing Artie around the neck. "You got fucking mugged, do you understand me? I didn't loan you shit!" With that, he storms out of the room, and heads off to the Billy Joel concert.
Literally, in fact. And I do mean literally. "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" is playing over, well, scenes from an Italian restaurant. It's the perfect musical complement to an episode that's been all about the exposition. Tony and Carmela, Furio and the Dental Hygienist, and Brian and his wife are gathered around the table, enjoying their dinner. When the music fades, Tony is telling the story of how he proposed to Carmela. It seems he had a dream one night, in which his grandfather was seated at a table eating dinner. Then his grandmother appeared, wearing a blue dress, and poured a glass of wine for the grandfather, who then told Tony, "If you've got a good wife, you're a millionaire." The very day, Tony went over to Carmela's house for dinner, and the scene repeated itself in real life, only with soda taking the place of wine. The day after that, he bought the engagement ring. Aww, how romantic. And interesting to boot. Now that's a story I wouldn't mind wasting an episode on. I'd love to see what Tony and Carmela were like at that age. It'd probably explain a lot. And by the way, don't think I didn't catch the irony on the whole "good wife = a million dollars" bit. Not only is Tony's financial future in doubt, but he's even ignoring the metaphoric riches he already has. Everyone around the table is suitably impressed by the story, and Furio mentions that his date is quite romantic as well. "She gonna clean my teeth for me," he adds. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Furio also mentions that he's been admiring Brian's suit, which lets Brian mention that he got it from a guy "Mr. Soprano turned [him] on to." Carmela's not happy about that one, let me tell you. Brian doesn't care, however, and he proceeds to make a toast to Tony that's almost embarrassing in its immense ass-kissing factor. "Great tickets, great meal, great wine, and to Tony, for being a great guy I'm proud to call a friend," he says. Oh, yeah. This is never gonna end well.
Melfi's office. It's the second time we've been here this week, so at least I can still remember her name. Tony is all worried about the fact that Artie thinks he's subconsciously a hawk of some sort, but Melfi calls him on the fact that he "makes a lot of [his] living through usury," and shouldn't feel any more guilty about this incident than any other. She also points out that Artie's suicide attempt came soon after Tony learned about Gloria's, which might have something to do with his feelings on the subject. Gee, you know, she seems like a pretty smart girl. Maybe Tony should talk to her more often. I'm just saying.
And since no Frenchman can go unpunished on a show about the Italian Mafia, Furio shows up at Captain Jacques's door, communicating more evil intent with a single eyebrow than Artie managed to cram into an entire fifty-seven-minute episode. Heh. I wonder if they'll bury him on his special island?
And finally, AJ and his pals are gathered back in the basement where they started. Harry Notter is still being a tool, but Ping and Pong are alternating between wrestling with one another and providing some final, last-minute exposition. We learn that Devin's father is some financial whiz, and that her last name is Pillsbury. And yes, that does make AJ "the Pillsbury doughboy." Hey! Be nice. The kid's lost a lot of weight this year. Anyway, Harry wants to know why AJ's dad doesn't have that "Don Corleone money." "I don't know," replies AJ, and we fade to black.
Contrivance: I hereby call this emergency meeting of the TWoP Literary Devices Committee to order. Seeing as how our Devices Emeritus Rex The Wonder Preemie and Jakob The Amish Guy couldn't be here, I'll be chairing the meeting. First off is a report from our agent in the field.
The Mulder Action Figure: Well, I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is, the recappers are plotting to take over the world. The good news is that I've finally figured out how to take off my pants.
The Steel Drums Of Impending Non-Gay Doom: This is horrible! We've got to do something!
Stee's Cat: I could claw their eyes out.
The Scully Action Figure: My girl is stuck watching Dawson's Creek now. Do you really think that'll be much of a deterrent?
Stee's Cat: Good point.
David Chase: Don't worry, people. I have a plan. Oh, and Julio, would you be a dear and fetch Daddy a scotch? Thanks.
A Bottle Of Post Road Pumpkin Ale: So? Let's hear the plan.
David Chase: All right. I'd like to introduce you all to our new mole in the recapper's family.
Aaron: Um, hi guys.
David Chase: It seems Aaron here has been involved in some very questionable dealings that he doesn't want anyone to know about. Our surveillance guys actually picked him up laughing at an episode of Mind of the Married Man last month, and now he'll do anything to keep it quiet.
Aaron: I couldn't help myself! I'm a sucker for a good TiVo joke.
The Mulder Action Figure: Oh, the shame!
Aaron: I know. I think I'm gonna…[Horf!]
Everyone: Ewwwww!!!
Foreshadowing: This is gonna end badly. Trust me.