By Aaron
Fade up on AJ at play in the driveway, imitating his daddy by repeatedly pulling his car up to the front of the house just like Tony does in the opening credits. Hmm. Is it just me, or has this show gotten a lot more meta this season? And if that's the case, what should we make of the voices we hear, which come from two little kids shouting, "Ha ha, that's so funny!" and "No, it isn't"? We move around to the rear of the house, where Steve Buscemi is sitting on the deck, watching his twin sons frolicking in the pool. Tony comes over to join him, and hands over one of those old-style manual drills while lamenting the loss of his power drill. And oddly enough, it seems that The Sopranos endorses DeWalt drilling products, whereas Six Feet Under has repeatedly expressed a preference for Makita. Something tells me HBO's Product Placement Office was fielding a few confused phone calls this past Monday morning. And what exactly does Steve Buscemi need to borrow a drill for, anyway? Is he planning on hanging a Freddie Mercury poster in his mom's basement? At any rate, Tony tries to play with Steve's kids by spraying with them with a hose, but the water is freezing cold and the two kids basically seem to hate their fat faux-uncle anyway.
Tony then goes inside to chat with Carmela, who has been watching this tender little scene through the kitchen window. "[Those kids] will probably go through their entire lives not knowing that their father's sperm was smuggled out of jail to get Nancy pregnant," she says wistfully. Um, okay. And also ew. "It was the least I could do," replies Tony, making me wonder how exactly he handled that particular smuggling operation. I've heard of people swallowing condoms filled with drugs, but…well, I'm not even going to put that mental image in your heads. Tony stops to think for a minute, and then finally remembers what happened to his power drill: he lent it to Cousin Brian. This revelation is followed by what appears to be a panic attack, however, which made me think that maybe he'd used the drill on Joey Pants and was reliving the beheading. But the recaps never lie (except for that one time I told you all I'd call the day), and Tony claims the attack is merely indigestion. Carmela is worried, which gives Tony the opportunity to exposit that he's stopped seeing Melfi, although he does blame this decision on a need to cut back on expenses because of the separation. Yeah. Remember that in twenty minutes when he buys the ugliest car ever.
Carmela changes the subject by announcing that they've been called into AJ's school for a parent/teacher conference on the subject of their moronic son's rapidly declining grades. The conference is with the same "Wegler" that Tony remembers from last season as the "Billy Budds" guy. Heh. Carmela chews out Tony once again for spoiling AJ and dragging him to NBA games instead of forcing him to study. "I get to be the prison warden over here while you indulge him," gripes Diane Whittlesey. "I don't have to listen to this shit anymore," answers Tony, as he stomps towards the door. "That's why we're separated!" Heh. Carmela is utterly incredulous at his insane self-absorption, and shouts, "Are you kidding me? That is not why!" at his rapidly receding back.
Elsewhere, Lorraine the Loan Shark is emerging from the shower, calling for her boy-toy, and toweling her hair dry. Suddenly, Random Thug #1 pops out from behind the bathroom door, introduces himself as Billy, and then grabs the towel and snaps her with it. Hee hee! He chases her through the house, snapping the towel like it's junior high again and I'm back in third period gym class with stupid Duane Eulery, who's probably flipping burgers at McDonald's right now and won't sue me for mentioning his name in the recap because I don't even think he ever learned how to read. Man, I hated gym class. Anyway, Lorraine finally trips and falls onto her living room floor, where she sees Derek's corpse with a fresh bullet hole in his chest. She's naked, and crying, but Billy the Thug doesn't care. He reminds her that she was already warned about kicking up to Little Carmine, and then he shoots her dead. Outside, Frank Vincent waits silently in his car.
Cut to Angelo Garepe, getting the news about Lorraine's death. Frankie Valli and Little Carmine are there, and I have to say, that's not what I imagined Frankie Valli would look like. The good news, at least, is that I don't seem to be having a problem taking my eyes off of him. But that's probably because Little Carmine is practically crying because he's so scared of Johnny Sack. Frankie insists that they can take Sack down, and even predicts that everyone out in the streets will support them. Yeah. As pallbearers supporting their coffins, maybe. Frankie's name on the show, by the way, is "Rusty." That may be important later, to prevent excessively frequent "Frankie" frustrations.
Crazy Horse backroom. Tony, Silvio, Christopher, Vinnie Delpino, and Little Paulie are gathered for a meeting. I wonder why Big Paulie isn't there? Chris gives his opinion on the death of Lorraine, which is that it's an official declaration of war by Johnny Sack. Before the conversation can continue, however, Feech shows up, offering to kiss Tony's ring and generally acting like smarmy growler we've all come to know and tolerate. Never at a loss for an opinion or an anecdote (or even an antidote, but more on that later), Feech gives his impressions of the New York situation: "In my day, the top spot would have gone to Little Carmine, unless he was actually retarded or crippled or something. He's the son." Yeah. Remember that one later on when AJ ends up learning-disabled and eyebrow-impaired. Adriana comes back into the room to deliver their drinks, and Silvio asks to speak with her out in the hallway for a minute. We don't get to hear what they're saying, so I have to imagine that it's some sort of set-up for the future. And after getting burned on not mentioning The Russian in his first appearance, I'm not taking that sort of thing for granted anymore.
In the room itself, meanwhile, Feech is gleefully complimenting Christopher on the length of Adriana's legs while Chris just glares at the guy like he was sniffing her underwear or something. Once the drinks are delivered and Adriana has left, Vinnie wants to talk about the old days. Feech, of course, has all kinds of stories to tell, but Silvio suggests that he start with the one about Tony and Jackie Aprile Sr. knocking over the Executive Game back when Feech was running it. Feech isn't exactly thrilled by that tale, and he tries to save face by claiming that Tony should've been whacked for what he did, and also that he was scared out of his mind during the heist. Yeah, but I bet he didn't piss his pants like the Little Lord. "Feech has forgiven," smirks Tony, "even if he hasn't forgotten."
This brings Feech around to the topic he actually wanted to discuss, and he asks everyone else to leave the room and give them some privacy. Everyone heads out but Silvio, who (as noted by the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters) silently raises a finger to remind Tony to wait until the air conditioner kicks in before they conduct business. You know, because Tony thinks air conditioners defeat FBI listening devices. Feech finally asks Tony for permission to regain control of the Executive Game, noting that he ran it successfully for eleven years without any problems. "Not to mention that maybe I got it coming," he adds. "Considering how it could have gone for you after you took the game down, if I had been a prick about it." "Or if his old man didn't have so many friends," corrects Silvio. Tony thinks about it for a moment, and then decides to give in, and even offers to hook Feech up with some high-rollers he knows. "Let me get out of here before I keep talking and fuck this up," growls a pleasantly surprised Robert Loggia. I actually feel the same way about this paragraph at this point, although I will mention that Feech calls Tony "Don Antonio" on the way out. Oh, and Silvio doesn't like him. Tony: "He's old. How do you think that feels?" And you know, I think I'm beginning to find out.
Das Sopranohaus. Carmela is in the living room, reading a brochure about Bo-Tox in case the divorce gets finalized and she has to go find work on Nip/Tuck or something. Because there's no way in hell Edie Falco would ever stoop to appearing on dreck like Joey. AJ wanders in, and asks for permission to attend some concert in New York City later in the week. Carmela, however, refuses to let him stay overnight in the city, so AJ just whines a lot and heads back to his room.
The Executive Game. We'll start with a run-down on the players: We've got Lawrence Taylor (the greatest defensive player in NFL history, and a convicted former crack addict), Dr. Fried (a.k.a. "The Prick Doctor", who for the purposes of this recap will be known as "Dr. Rosenburgsteinwitzgold"), Wide Guy (the worst defensive player in NBA history), Unknown Guy (um…he's the dealer), Hesh (producer of four hit singles), Bernie Brillstein (producer of, among others, ALF, News Radio, and The Lyon's Den), Silvio (producer of five gold records), and Steve Buscemi (directed "Pine Barrens" and "Everybody Hurts"). Also present as observers are Paulie, Chris, Little Paulie, and Feech, who is telling a rather lengthy story about -- I kid you not -- the time he stuck his toe into the nether regions of a Braniff Airlines stewardess. to arrive is Tony, with Vinnie Delpino in tow. Tony makes a big show of greeting everyone, calling LT "Sir Lawrence of the Meadowlands," mocking Steve Buscemi for being too poor to play, and giving Silvio a few playful slaps on the face. And there he is, getting handsy with the help again. That's got to mean something. Feech wants to get back to his crotch-toe tale, so he complains loudly about Tony's need to say hello to every single person in the room. Tony: "What, did I interrupt one of your impermeable stories?" Heh. Well, I guess that depends on whether or not he had a condom on that toe, doesn't it? Tony steps on the punch line of Feech's story by suggesting that the stewardess died of asphyxiation brought on by his stinky feet, and then Silvio folds his cards with the memorable (if meaningless) line, "Fuck it, this hand is from Thalidomide." It had flippers? Tony takes Silvio's place at the table, and asks Dr. Rosenpenis about the upcoming wedding of his daughter Suzy Rosenpenis. Dr. Rosenrosen replies that his wife and daughter are obsessed with becoming the featured couple of the week in the "Vows" column of the New York Times. Tony can sympathize, and recalls that Carmela "calls the Times wedding section the 'ladies sports page.'" Then he mentions that he never got his invitation. This is greeted with awkward silence from everyone, and for a moment it's difficult to tell whether or not Tony was being serious. Then everyone laughs it off, and Tony indicates that he was just joking, but I'm not so sure.
Verbum Dei. Tony, AJ, and Carmela are waiting outside the guidance counselor's office, and AJ is wearing khaki pants. I wouldn't mention that sort of thing ordinarily, but it's going to be relevant in a moment or two. Mr. Wegler escorts some snooty kid named Lem out of his office, extolling his grades and SAT scores all the while. And seeing as how I've already had to relive junior high gym class, I'd just like to further cement my uber junior-nerd status by pointing out that I kicked Lem's ass on the verbal. Wegler, by the way, is played by David Strathairn, who'll always be blind to me. He welcomes the Soprano clan into his office, and AJ is still wearing khaki pants. After some discussion of AJ's declining grades, the kid tries to distract everyone's attention by proudly reminding them that he turned in his list of colleges, like that's the one thing that'll make a difference at this point. His choices? Ramapo and Trenton State as safeties, and Arizona and Arizona State as reaches. ["Hee. Trenton State. Okay, everyone still calls it Trenton State, but about ten years ago it changed its official name to 'the College of New Jersey.' All well and good, except that in a sign on the front lawn, they misspelled the word 'Jersey.' Not kidding. 'Jeresy.' Anyway, all this by way of saying that it's a perfect school for AJ." -- Sars] Tony mentions that he plans on taking AJ for a tour out in Arizona later in the year, and I can only assume that he's planning on whacking Sammy "The Bull" Gravano while he's out there. Oh, and check out AJ's SAT scores: 505 verbal and 440 math. Um, 505? Are you sure those aren't his jeans we're talking about? He's still wearing khakis, though. Mr. Wegler thinks AJ could improve those scores if he can just "bear down and focus," but Tony points out that AJ's always had trouble with the focusing. And the bears, for that matter. In fact, Tony and Carmela even used to think that their son had A.D.D., which is news to AJ. Perhaps not surprisingly, he's actually thrilled to hear it, because if he's "learning disabled," it means he gets unlimited time on his SATs. Moron. Wegler sends him back to class, and when he stands up, he's suddenly wearing black pants. Oops. Once he's gone, Wegler asks Carmela if she's reviewed the results of AJ's meeting with the school shrink. She pulls out a folder, and reads off a list of diagnoses which basically say that AJ is a normal teenager and handling their separation pretty well. Wegler still suggests that he get regular therapy in any case, but Tony says no. "People use it as a crutch," he explains, with no irony whatsoever. "And I always wonder, whatever happened to Gary Cooper? The strong, silent type?" Um, yeah. He's probably down in Boca with Christopher, Eloise, and Isabella. Carmela actually agrees with Tony on this one, believe it or not, because she remembers that horrible "adolescent developmentalist" they sent Meadow to. I'm not sure that's really a reason to worry, though, because Linda Lavin seems to be spending her time out in The O.C. these days.
Outside the office, AJ is talking to a friend, and he's actually stoked that he might be learning disabled. Oh, AJ. You're too stupid to be that stupid. Some random kids in the office suddenly start crying, and the secretary reports that two other random students were just in a car crash. One is dead, and the other is in a coma, but since we've never heard of them before and they're really just a cheap plot point to justify an upcoming product placement, I think it's safe to say that no one cares.
Outside Melfi's office, meanwhile, there's a random patient in her waiting room. She comes out to greet him, and notices a gift basket sitting on the couch. The patient says it was there when he came in, and the mildly worried look on Melfi's face suggests that she knows exactly who it's from.
Casa di Soprano. AJ is getting tutored for the SATs, and here's the sample question provided by his instructor: "If a million zeros can be written on the front and back of a sheet of paper, how many sheets of paper do you need for a googol of zeros?" We'll use the poll over there on the right to see how smart you kids are. And no cheating! You're not allowed to Google a googol. We'll never know if AJ knows the answer, though, because Tony suddenly pulls up in the driveway and honks the horn. When AJ looks out the window, he spots what is quite possibly the ugliest car I have ever seen in my life: A bright yellow [product-placed car]. Damn. That thing is nasty. AJ's enthusiasm is unabated, however, and he dashes out into the driveway with a giant grin on his face. Carmela, of course, is furious, even after Tony takes pains to point out that the sticker is still on it. And after what happened with Meadow and the Scatino kid, can you really blame him? Tony delivers a twenty-minute Powerpoint presentation on the "triple safety philosophy" of [product-placed car company], and then the tutor comes out and drives off in his beat-up Yugo. Heh. The Foley guys even add in the sound of his muffler dragging on the asphalt. Everyone climbs into AJ's new toy, with the Eagle-Eyed Subtext Spotters noting that Carmela once again gets stuck in the back seat. AJ describes the car as being "so deck," and I don't even know what that means. "I feel safer already," snarks Carmela. But suddenly, AJ looks sad. "SUV's eat up the ozone," he worries, like he even knows what the "ozone" is. Or how to spell "SUV," for that matter. Also, shut the fuck up, AJ. Way to look 210 gift horsepower in the mouth. Then he immediately changes his mind, and asks if they can go for a spin. Tony says yes, but only once. Then the car goes back in the garage until he brings his grades up to a C. Now that seems reasonable enough, albeit in a bizarre mob-money, really-crappy-parenting sort of way. AJ compounds my desire to bury my toe in his crotch by talking back to his mother here, and Carmela just gives up and heads inside. Tony gently orders his son to be nicer to his mom, and then goes right in after her. Damn. I never thought I'd be saying this, but I miss Meadow.
Inside, Tony claims that the car is purely a motivational tool, but Carmela is actually more pissed at AJ at this point. "God, what happened to him?" she wonders. "He was always the sweet one. He had the concept of sharing before any of the other toddlers." And now she'd like to share her foot with his ass. Tony goes along with the nostalgia vibe, and adds that he remembers Meadow going through the same change. "It's like watching an angel fall," he sighs. And boy, have they fallen. Carmela hands him a stack of bills, including the requested invoice from the SAT tutor, and a charge for a "cheap sound system" for the media room, because he stole the last one. "Oh, your little movie connoisseur friends, they're still meeting?" he teases. "Well, at least I have friends," replies Carmela. Ooh. Burn! She goes on to explain that Tony only has flunkies, who compliment him and tell him he's not going bald because he's the boss. Yes, and that's why I have the "Marry me, Aaron" thread. Come and compliment my hairline or I'll ban every last one of you. "They're scared of you," she continues. "They have to kiss your ass, and laugh at your stupid jokes." Yeah. I don't hear you people laughing, either. Louder, dammit, louder! Tony mentions Artie as a real friend who's not an employee, and when Artie is the best example you can cite of a true friend, well, that's just pathetic. For about a googol of reasons. He also says that he doesn't care what people think, because he's not running a popularity contest.
Dr. Boggie's office. Melfi is there for a session, and she's reading Tony's card from the gift basket he sent. Just for kicks, here it is in its entirety: "I've been thinking, and I apologize for my use of fowl [sic] language in regards to yourself. You said some very hurtful things to me in regards to myself, but it is still no excuse to use the vile word that I used, of which I'm sure you know that I'm talking about [sic]." There's a hilarious pause here while Boggie confirms that the word in question is, in fact, "cunt." "You don't wish us to be social friends, and so that is that. I still have great rigard [sic] for you, even though you said some horrible things. PS: I'm doing fine." Then she adds that the basket contained a nice variety of scented oils and notions and whatnot, not to mention -- dun dun DUN -- a bathrobe! Boggie thinks this choice of gift reflects a desire for ablution (or possibly absolution -- they both work) on Tony's part. I, on the other hand, are sure that you know that a scene featuring bathrobes and bad grammar could only ever be a shout-out to myself. Thanks, David! PS: You're doing fine.
Maison de Soprano. Carmela is doing laundry in the basement when Mr. Wegler calls and asks her out to lunch so that they can discuss what he refers to as "further strategies" for AJ. Yeah, like his strategy for giving AJ a little brother, maybe. Ba-dum-dum. You know, because he wants to have lots of wild, crazy, guidance-counselor sex with her. Carmela is thrilled, and quickly accepts his invitation. You know, because she just wants to have sex, period.
Later that night, AJ and Carmela are eating dinner together. Mom tries to make some painful small talk about Ringo Starr drum solos or Pete Best or Stu ShutTheHellUpCliffe or whatever, and it's really kind of embarrassing to watch. I've seen heroin addicts that are less needy. AJ is his usual surly self, and soon asks to be excused. "Am I so horrible?" wonders Carmela. "You're not horrible," he answers. "Get over yourself." Amen. Except Carmela doesn't actually know what "get over yourself" means. ["It means 'slap him, backhanded, and don't turn your rings around first either.' Hate!" -- Sars] She angrily grants AJ's request to return to his room, but now he wants to stay because she's being such a martyr about it. It's too late, though, and she kicks him out anyway because he's got a ticket to ride, and she's the fool on the hill. Or something like that.
Executive Game. David Lee Roth has joined the players, and my God, he looks horrible. Hell, he looks even worse than Frankie Valli, who's got to be at least 206 by now. In addition to the Ice Cream Man, our current players are Tony, Paulie, Wide Guy, Silvio, Dr. Rosencrantz, and yet another random guy I'll just call Guildenstern. Even though it's totally David Lee Roth who looks dead here. They're discussing Tony's Escalade, which he claims to love, but only after he pulled out the GPS system. Guildenstern is apparently a car dealer of some sort, and he definitely rolls his eyes a bit when he hears this. Paulie, however, thinks Tony is a genius. And technically speaking, he's sort of right about this one. I mean, look what happened to Scott Peterson. Then again, it's not exactly like the FBI has ever had a real hard time following him the old-fashioned way, so who knows? David Lee Roth folds without mentioning Fen-Phen, and Paulie wins the hand with three threes. Dr. RosenRblock mentions that SUVs used to make great tax deductions, and this leads Feech to tell a lengthy joke about accountants and the Pope that's even less funny than you'd expect a joke about accountants and the Pope to be. Which, as we all know, isn't very funny at all. Everyone chortles politely, and then David Lee Roth announces that he used to be able to write off condoms on his taxes. Everyone scrubs their eyes out with bleach, and then Tony tells an accountant joke of his own: "What do you get when you cross an accountant with a giant jet airplane? A Boring 747." Everyone laughs and laughs and laughs like Tony just made a joke about a pair of obscure Shakespearean bit players, and we even kick it into slow-motion to emphasize the outsized hilarity on display. In other words, they're laughing at Tony, not with him. Get it? I hope so, because it will be important later.
Back at home, Carmela enters AJ's room and finds him studying his algebra book. Clever viewers will note that each and every time AJ tries to do something productive in this episode, his parents find a way to stop him. And this occasion is no exception, as Carmela interrupts the studying to tell AJ that he can go to New York for the concert, provided that he promises to stay at Meadow's and be home by 10:30 the morning. AJ thanks her sullenly, and then returns to his book. Yawn. Whatever. Frankly, if he's not reading about that asshole Robert Frost, I just can't bring myself to care.
In a parking lot somewhere in New Jersey, a bunch of expensive cars are being jacked and loaded onto a truck while a random thug stands over the bound and gagged valet staff and taunts them. Inside, we see that the cars belong to the guests at the wedding of Dr. Rosentevye's daughter. Everyone is laughing and dancing the Hora, and doing that lifting-people-up-on-chairs thing that I never knew was just a Jewish tradition until I attended my first non-Jewish wedding about three years ago. Jewish continuity hawks, however, no doubt immediately spotted the fact that Dr. Rosentopol and his wife aren't holding on to the opposite ends of a handkerchief, which is also part of the tradition. Want to hear really something sad, though? Here in Pittsburgh, most people use a Terrible Towel. That's just wrong. The band does get the song right, though, or at least they do up until the point where the singer has to stop and make an announcement about the heist. When she gets to the words "armed robbery," the drummer even gives her a little rim-shot. Heh.
Everyone rushes outside to the parking lot, where most of the guests find their cars gone. "They left all the American cars!" wails some extra in the back. "Now who's a genius for keeping his Regal?" asks another guy in the front. Heh. That totally would have been my grandfather. Some other dude (who later turns out to be Dr. Rosenregal's brother, or brother-in-law, or some other tenuous relation) screams that they got his Mercedes SL 55 convertible, after he just spent "a motherfucking year" on the waiting list.
Hey, look! It's Meadow. We haven't seen her for a while. She and Finn are watching Frida at her apartment, which is subtextually relevant presumably because of Frida's enormous unibrow. AJ calls from outside his concert to say that he won't be staying at her place, and Meadow agrees to help cover for him in case Mom calls. Finn, meanwhile, keeps trying to shove his hand into Meadow's crotch. Hmm. Looks like someone still thinks she's on the set of the Heidi Fleiss movie.
Casa de Soprano. Carmela quietly luxuriates in a bubble bath, and the plucky guitar music and the fact that both hands are below the waterline lead me to wonder what exactly she might be planning for this evening alone. Except then it turns out that all she planned to do was nag her kids, because she gets out of the tub to go call Meadow and check on AJ. Points for wearing a robe, though! Meadow's movie is over by now, but she and Finn are still dry-humping on the sofa. She sits up to answer the phone, and reports that AJ is asleep, because he was totally "zapped." Hmm. Is that anything like being "deck"? She also says that she's never having kids, which I mention only because she seems to be the one character that generates the most future speculation in the forums. Lonely as ever, Carmela tries to make small talk, but Meadow brusquely claims that they're still watching the movie before hanging up. Then she and Finn go back to making out, although I suspect that if Heidi Fleiss ever did it like these two, Charlie Sheen would have been asking for his money back.
Cut to AJ and his, uh…buds, watching porn and taking giant hits off a homemade gravity bong. You know, for someone with Robert Iler's evidently extensive experience, you'd think the boy would know to clear the damn chamber. On the other hand, I'm totally stoked for the "Why Can't We Be Friends?" promo where AJ, Brenda, and Ashley Hamilton get together to burn one in Mommatose's trailer. Yet another friend shows up with a Sharpie, and the kids prepare to punk the fourth friend, who's passed out in the bathroom. Hey, is that Egon? Because I miss him.
Bada Bing. Tony is chatting with a stripper at the bar about her painting hobby, and it's the most gratuitous tit shot I've seen since…well, since they chased Lorraine naked through her house about twenty-five minutes ago. Aw, David. You shouldn't have. Suddenly Dr. Rosencoupe appears in the club, telling Tony all about the car heist and begging for his help. "I'm not really in that business," replies Tony. Dr. Rosenheatedseatswitz isn't buying that one for a second, though, and he explains just how important the SL 55 was to his best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend who passed out at Thirty-One Flavors the other night. Tony doesn't make any promises, or even say anything at all, but it does seem like he'll look into it.
And back to New York, where we see the results of all that midnight magic marker malarkey. The unconscious kid has his pants down around his ankles, and there are two arrows and the words "Insert Wood" written on his ass. Dude. Only AJ could find a way to use a Sharpie worse than Terrell Owens. And it's a good thing we already got the Oz shout-outs out of the way, or that might have been a swastika. A quick pan around the room reveals that it's been trashed Johnny Depp-style, and that AJ is passed out on the floor between the beds. His cell phone is ringing pretty much constantly, but no one is awake to answer.
That includes Meadow in her own apartment, incidentally, who checks her caller ID and then goes right back to sleep when she sees that it's Mom.
Back at the hotel, Carmela manages to bully the guy at the front desk into connecting her to AJ's room. They still don't answer, but at least the noise finally wakes AJ up. The only problem is that he can't figure out why his face is stuck to the rug. Hee! At first I thought he'd drooled it stuck, but one of his friends soon discovers that he's been Krazy Glued to the floor. They slowly manage to pry him up, and the prop guys manage a pretty nice latex effect as his cheek sticks to the carpet fiber. The glue doesn't seem to have done any long-term damage, but the real problem is that AJ's eyebrows have been shaved completely off, and replaced by two giant swoops from the Sharpie. He looks very…I don't even know what the word is, because "weird" just doesn't quite cut it. So instead I'll point out that this represents yet another reference to inappropriate shaving. It's a theme for the season, I'm telling you. The friend also notices that he himself got a nice handlebar mustache drawn on, so I'm guessing Not Egon was a very busy boy after everyone else went to sleep.
And the wake-up calls continue, this time with Tony in bed at Livia's house. He's alone, by the way, so I guess that whole "stay out late and fuck anyone he wants" thing isn't really working out. It's Carmela on the phone, of course, and she's completely and totally freaked by this point. All the other friends are already home, but AJ still hasn't arrived. Tony promises to go to the hotel and check things out, but as soon as he hangs up, Carmela hears the front door and rushes to the foyer to find AJ. She starts off relieved, transitions into shock at seeing his face, and then segues straight into self-righteous anger all in the space of about four tenths of a second. AJ, who is madly hungover, begs for her to leave him alone and get off his back. Then he throws in a nice "fuck you" for good measure, and starts up the stairs to his room. Carmela tries to follow, but trips and smacks her knee on one of the wooden risers. Ouch. And good stunt work from Edie Falco, because that really did look painful. AJ stops at the top of the steps to look sadly back at his mother, then just keeps going to his room without a word.
Junkyard. Some big fat obnoxious guy answers the phone. It's Christopher calling, and he's looking for the SL 55. The BFOG promises to see what he can do. And…scene.
AJ lies in bed, but hops up right quick when he hears Tony screeching into the driveway. Robert Iler's look of panic here is priceless, and I've been on the receiving end of enough "just wait until your father gets home" lectures to know exactly how he feels. Tony storms inside and finds Carmela curled up on the sofa with an ice pack on her knee. She's wallowing so deep in self-pity at this point that she's moved past AJ's misdeeds and is now crying over the fact that even Meadow lied to her. "She's covering for him," explains Tony. "That's what sisters are supposed to do." Okay, first of all, there's nothing on this earth my sister enjoys more than tattling on me, and second of all, didn't Tony just bitch-slap his own sister last week for completely failing to cover for him when they were kids? Carmela also reveals that AJ cursed at her in a way that seems to suggest she's forgotten all about the ziti and the orange peel beef and probably even Nietzsche as well. Tony starts to head upstairs, but bumps into AJ, who's on his way down with a trash can in hand, claiming that he was just going to take the garbage out. Yeah. That'll help. Tony freaks when he sees him, because he can't quite figure out what's different about AJ's face. Bwah! That's about the dumbest thing I've seen in years, and it works perfectly because Gandolfini really sells it. Carmela is forced to explain about the eyebrows, and then Tony demands to know what curse word AJ used. When he hears that it was the F-word, he grabs the kid by the throat and shoves him against the wall. He totally fails to add, "Why you little…" That's exactly what it looks like, though. Especially because Bart Simpson doesn't have any eyebrows, either.
AJ protests that he was just trying to tell Carmela his side of the story, which is a blatant lie, but Tony asks to hear his explanation anyway. AJ then claims that he couldn't find a cab, but no one is falling for that one. "Look at your face!" shouts Tony. "If you've got some kind of sexual proclivity with that teacher or whatever, now's the time to tell us! I mean, what went on up there? Poppers and weird sex?" Hee! But who the hell says "poppers" anymore? AJ insists that he only had a few beers, and that they made him sick. Tony falls for that one hook, line, and gravity bong, and even starts to defend AJ a bit. "He should be grounded, yeah," he says, "but it's not the end of the world." Which, while true in the strictest of senses, is nevertheless incredibly horrible parenting. Carmela seems to get that, because she gives up completely and announces that AJ might as well go live with Tony. AJ loves that idea, but you can actually see Tony recoil in horror at the very thought.
He then sends AJ out to finish with the garbage, and sits down beside Carmela on the sofa. "Okay, what are we going to do, really?" he asks. Carmela insists she's serious. "No, I mean really," repeats Tony. Heh. He tells her that AJ is just doing "normal teenage shit," and reminds her about how the two of them ran off from some school dance and left Artie alone in the snow, where he almost got frostbite. You know, I've always said that I really want an episode with young Tony and young Carmela, and if they ever do it, that scene absolutely MUST be in it. That'd be, like, the best prom ever, right there. Carmela keeps right on blaming herself for everything, saying that Tony doesn't know what it's like to have a son who hates his guts. "It's my fault," she repeats. "My pathetic need to compete with you clouded my judgment, or I never would have let him stay over in New York. I knew he wasn't ready." Then she adds that she can't play the villain anymore, and insists that Tony take AJ home right away.
Cut to Jackie Gleason, looking frightened and muttering his trademark "Humina humina humina." Heh. Over at Livia's place, Tony, AJ, and Artie are eating pizza and watching The Honeymooners. Oy. Because Tony and Artie in one house weren't bad enough, now they've got to add AJ as well?
Bing backroom. Feech arrives for a sit-down with Tony and Silvio, and he can tell right away from the looks on their faces that he's in trouble. Tony asks straight out if Feech was involved in the car heist at Dr. Rosenblanchensilvia's wedding, adding that he told Feech that the doctor was a "friend," and that he used that (other) F-word very deliberately. Feech apologizes, and literally oozes smarm from every over-tanned pore when he calls Tony "Godfather." He also claims that in his day, guys didn't need to ask permission to ply their trade, and then he tosses an envelope of cash onto the desk and says it's Tony's cut of the action. Tony, however, is furious that this is the second time Feech has acted without consultation. "What, do I have to send you a memo every time I move my bowels?" shouts Feech. Well, why not? Bobby does it with Junior. Tony knows that Feech is lying, because he didn't put the cars through one of Tony's chop shops, and he gets even angrier when he learns that Feech used one of Johnny Sack's guys.
"In my day…" starts Feech. "And that's another thing," interrupts Tony, "I don't want to hear no more about how it was in your day. You just keep your antidotes to local color, like Dynaflows or the McGuire Sisters or shit like that. Otherwise, shut the fuck up." Hallelujah. And also, heh. "Antidotes." Feech gets all apologetic again, admitting that he still thinks of Tony as just a kid. "I'll learn," he promises, sounding almost sincere. So sincere, in fact, that Tony suddenly remembers back to the card game, where Feech was the only one not laughing at his "Boring 747" joke. In Tony's mind, this apparently means that Feech is the only one who respects him enough to not kiss his ass, as opposed to the actual reality, which is that Feech probably hates him so much that he can't even be bothered to pretend anymore. When Tony ends his little reverie, he stands up and offers Feech a conciliatory hug. After the embrace, Tony asks him to just get the one SL 55 back, and Feech shows contrition through his silent agreement and only slightly supercilious shadow-boxing.
Once he's gone, Silvio opines that he might have been too hard on the guy. Tony's mind, however, is elsewhere. "Did I learn nothing from Richie Aprile?" he wonders. "Nip it in the bud." Silvio argues that Feech is well-liked, but that's definitely just another nail in the guy's coffin at this point. As per usual, Tony doesn't give a direct order, but Silvio knows exactly what to do. He also seems to know exactly how Tony is feeling, because he suggests that Tony's maybe being too hard on himself. And you know, I actually do think Silvio genuinely cares for Tony. He's certainly the most empathetic member of the crew, if nothing else. It must have something to do with the hair gel.
Feech's Flat. He's lounging on his front porch when Christopher and Vinnie Delpino show up to deliver some suit that Chris promised to bring by. The real reason they're here, however, it to set up the eventual double-cross that Silvio has cooked up. Vinnie pretends to let slip that they're in a hurry, and Feech is obviously nosy enough that he's got to know exactly what's going on. After much fake (and real) dissembling, it's established that Chris and Vinnie are sitting on a truck full of flat-screen TVs with no place to park it until the deal goes down. And frankly, it seems like they've been waiting a REALLY long time for that deal. Feech offers to store the truck in his own garage, in exchange for a TV of his own, and Christopher faux-reluctantly agrees.
And now for this season's installment of Average Wuss: Hoboken, as Carmela meets Mr. Wegler for lunch. They chat about AJ, and his eyebrows, and his complete lack of response to the accident that killed that kid. "I have to say," explains Carmela, "he never mentioned it." Yeah, and neither did anyone else. Except for the marketing reps from [product-placed car company], of course. She also reveals that AJ has moved in with his father. "I don't know what you might have heard about my husband…" she ventures. "Some," answers Mr. Wegler. Carmela insists that Tony is a good father, but she's desperately worried that if AJ doesn't get into college, "he would be drawn right in to…whatever." She confesses to marrying Tony because she was young and he was "bigger than life," and also that she thinks it might be good for AJ to spend some time doing "man" things. Because there could be no finer role models than Tony and Artie Bucco. Then she changes the subject to Wegler, who explains that he's been with Verbum Dei since 1986, and was married for "about five minutes" to a woman named Astrid, whom he divorced because of "some notion of escaping the quotidian." Carmela practically melts into a little puddle when he starts using the big words, and then loves him even more when he asks if she's ever read Madame Bovary. She admits that she hasn't, but does promise to pick up a copy from Borders on her way home. Wegler goes on to describe the plot, making it as much of a meta-reference to Carmela's own situation as possible when you consider that she's not actually a nineteenth-century philandering French maiden. She also obviously doesn't know how to spell "Flaubert," which leads to much hilarity when she tries to write down the author's name.
Feech's Flat. A parole officer shows up for an unannounced visit, and it's not the guy Feech was expecting. The guy proceeds to look around the apartment for minute, making a note of the new flat-screen TV, which Feech claims was a "bequest" from a friend. Then the guy looks out the window, and demands to see the inside of the garage. Feech makes a "weapons of mass destruction" joke that's surprisingly timely for a man who's been in jail since the Reagan administration, but that's certainly not enough to dissuade Parole Guy. And just like that, my friends, Feech is fucked.
Livia's house. Tony, Artie, AJ, and Steve Buscemi are watching baseball, and not liking what they're seeing. "Ah, fuck major league baseball!" shouts Artie. Man, I never thought I'd find myself agreeing with Artie, but I couldn't have said it bet-- oh, wait. Sars is back as a guest editor this week. So, um…Artie's a fucking moron, all right? Now boys will be boys, so it's obviously not long before someone rips a nice fart. AJ immediately accuses Artie of "hot-boxing" them, which he describes as closing all the windows and then farting. Steve Buscemi, however, thinks that's a "Dutch oven." "In bed," adds Tony, by way of explanation, making that officially the worst fortune cookie ever. AJ doesn't understand, so Artie has to explain that a Dutch oven is when you fart in bed with a girl, and then push her head under the covers. And you just know that Charmaine saw more than her fair share of Dutch ovens back in the day. AJ totally loves the concept, but Tony reminds him that he has to actually get a girl in bed with him first. "You'd be surprised," boasts AJ. Yeah, right. The boy can't even admire a Lladro figurine without sporting inappropriate wood. Artie keeps right on farting, and eventually chases Stevie B. right out of the room. Tony then sends AJ upstairs to do his homework, but the kid begs for another fifteen minutes. Tony says no, and after AJ pauses for a moment to contemplate his options, he decides to comply without complaint.
Feech, meanwhile, is sadly riding a big yellow bus right back to prison. We follow him for a long moment, watching as he looks out the window at all the strip malls, bad hair, and chemical processing plants he'll soon be missing.
Tony heads into "work" at the Bing the day, where Silvio reports that Feech is finally gone for good. "This was the better move than taking him out," he says, before adding that even Christopher thinks they did the right thing. "The man was a legend," agrees Tony, but he also says that he couldn't care less whether Christopher liked the plan or not. "I'm not running a popularity contest," he snits, before taking a giant bite of his sandwich.