Marco Polo

This recap is dedicated to my cousin Cooper, who is curled up in a little ball somewhere.

Das Wenig Lupertazzihaus. Little Carmine has finally completed his move back to New Jersey, and he's giving Angelo and some guy named Jerry a tour of the new house. They eventually make their way into a sunroom that's dominated on one side by a wall of windows looking out onto the ocean, and on the opposite side by a giant, wall-sized fresco of windows looking out onto a different ocean. Ooh, class-ay. Actually, if you really want to get technical, it's probably a sea, not an ocean (the Mediterranean, to be specific). But I can pretty much assure you that these guys are anything but technical. "You can almost smell the salt," gushes Angelo. "You mean the painting, or the view?" asks Little Carmine. Heh. Angelo actually rolls his eyes a bit before tiredly replying, "Both." "That's called a Trumpay Lee-yoil. 'Fool the eye,'" explains the little man of the house. "It was done by an artist right over here in West Hempstead." Oh, man. There are just so many things so perfectly wrong with that story. Little Carmine is totally what happens when Little Lords reach middle age.

Little Carmine leads the boys back into the living room, which is dominated by a pair of immense washing-machine boxes. Hmm. I'm beginning to suspect that Little Carmine's interior-decorating skills are even worse than his skills at just about anything else, which is actually saying quite a bit. As the camera lingers lovingly on the [product-placed major appliance manufacturer's] logo, LC announces that these particular machines are "top of the line." Oy. You know what? Look, if these little two-second, throwaway commercials are ultimately the price we have to pay for high-quality televised entertainment, then believe me, I'm all for it. God knows I'd rather see Tony Soprano hawking cell phones than Catherine Zeta-Jones. The unfortunate problem in this case, however is that these commercials are actually NOT the price we have to pay, as my monthly cable bill, three DVD box sets, and Limited Edition Officially Licensed Tony Soprano Terrycloth Bathrobe will attest. So really, HBO just comes off looking fantastically greedy, especially after we just sat through a Season 4 filled with filler solely so that Chase & Co. could stretch out those extra ten episodes they needed to hit syndication. Anyway, Little Carmine announces that one of the machines is a "token" for Jerry, as a reward for his continued allegiance. He then adds that the other one was purchased for his wife. Sigh. What kind of idiot buys a new house with plenty of ugly paintings but no washing machine? Jerry is reluctant to pledge his support firmly to Little Carmine, because he knows that Johnny Sack will be extremely unhappy if he does. Before they can come to any kind of final resolution, however, the Littlest Carmine comes running into the room, screaming that the family boat is sinking. Why? Was it struck by an anvil? Or has Foreshadowing somehow "christened" it with his scythe? Everyone runs out to the dock, where the boat is indeed listing heavily and taking on water. And also medical waste. The boat's name, by the way? "My Funny Valentine." If it were up to me, I probably would have gone with "The Lupertania." Jerry recommends calling the Coast Guard, and then the whole sinking boat subplot disappears forever faster than...well, a sinking boat.

Das Sopranohaus. AJ is in his bedroom, rocking out (poorly) on the drums while Pa DeAngelis is up on the roof, fixing a loose shingle. Seeing as how AJ just so happens to have a huge window right behind him, I think we all know what's coming , right? Well, except for those of us who had more respect for this show's comedic sensibilities, that is. Then again, when Imperioli gets in front of typewriter, all bets go out the window. Also out the window, of course, is Pa DeAngelis's falling body, as he tumbles off the roof and drops into a hedge along the side of the house.

Cut to a hospital, where Ma DeAngelis is frantic with worry. "After all these years of marriage," she whines, "do you know what you find yourself thinking in your private moments? Please, God, let me die first." Hmm. You know, I'm not even married, and yet I still frequently find myself wishing Ma DeAngelis would die first. That's why it amuses me that she's listed three pages later in the credits than her husband. "In some ways, you've been spared that," Ma continues, "with you and Tony calling it quits now." Yeah. And if you ever find yourself struggling to come up with reasons why Carmela would be willing to sleep with Tony again later on in the episode, you probably need look no further than this scene's perfect example of maternal disapproval. Ma also frets that it might be necessary to cancel Hugh's upcoming seventy-fifth birthday party, and when you consider that mere moments ago she was worried that the guy might actually be dead, that does seems like a reasonable suggestion. Carmela, however, is much more optimistic, and it's her viewpoint that ultimately gets borne out when a doctor emerges to tell them that Pa suffered nothing more than a few cuts and bruises. And, yeah, the doctor is a turban-wearing Sikh, and he's really just one of the many ethnic extras in this scene, because there's also an Asian-looking guy in severe abdominal distress seated nearby in the waiting room. I have no idea if all that's supposed to symbolic of anything, but I do kind of like the idea that all the Italians on this show end up in the mob, whereas every other group seems to be going into medicine. Except for the Jews, of course, who just exploit black people and steal from little old ladies. Once they know that Pa will be okay, Ma returns to the subject of the party, getting painfully passive-aggressive as she suggest that maybe Tony shouldn't get an invite. Carmela, however, isn't so sure. "Just the idea of having a family party in the back yard, without Tony there manning the grill, playing host? It wouldn't be the same," she says. The Abdominal Asian howls in pain yet again, prompting Ma to look around for a doctor to help the guy. Then she turns back to Carmela, and with a completely straight face, says, "I think it's a very wise decision." Carm -- who probably should be hip to her mother's tricks by now -- says she hasn't made a decision yet. "I thought I heard you say that you had, that he wasn't coming." Heh. Somehow I just can't see Ma successfully pulling off the Jedi mind trick.

The Sack Chalet. Tony and Johnny are out in front in the driveway, each admiring Johnny's brand-new Maserati. And to be fair, it is pretty sweet. It also cost about "ninety-nine and change," according to Johnny's presumably conservative reckoning. "You're spending like you're already on the throne," observes Tony, but Johnny just writes it off to "having a very good year." "And while we're doing car talk here," he continues, "Phil -- Madonna mi, he won't let that thing go." For a minute or so after hearing that for the first time, I kept myself amused with the mental image of Phil Leotardo flatly refusing to release his grip on the twisted wreckage of his car, and carrying that airbag-deployed steering wheel around everywhere like a sacred talisman or something. But then the guy shows up later on in a giant neck brace, which was almost as good. Johnny doesn't necessarily think that Tony was wrong to do what he did (although he does secretly believe that he'd have looked much cooler doing it in his Maserati), but he does want to send the message that he's loyal to the captains who are supporting him against Little Carmine. As a result, he asks Tony to pay for the repairs on Phil's car, and after being reminded that Johnny ruled in his favor on the racetrack thing, Tony agrees to do it. There is, however, one condition: the repairs have to be done at Big Pussy's body shop, so that Tony will be able to control the costs. Hmm. You know, you wouldn't really think that a place called "Big Pussy's Body Shop" would be doing automotive repair, now would you? They decide to go for a drive, and Tony has a hilariously difficult time folding his oversized frame into the passenger seat. That's probably why he gets a mischievous grin on his face before turning to ask what Ginny thinks of the new car. "With her knee, she has a little trouble getting into the seat," confides Johnny. Oh. Well, I can see how that ninety-five-pound mole might prevent her from bending it properly. Johnny and Tony squeal out of the driveway about eighty miles an hour, and if you were paying very close attention during that scene, you might have even spotted our old friend Sal working on Johnny's lawn. Hmm. I guess Imperioli and Sirrico don't get along in real life any better than Moltisanti and Walnuts usually do, because this episode somehow sees fit to give us Sal, but not Paulie. Then again, with all the stories and speculation we've heard about the paternity of the Blundetto boys, does anyone else think Sal VITRO might turn out to be the father?

We see Tony arriving at Pussy's garage. Have we ever seen this place before? I don't remember. Angie Bonpensiero is there working (though not on a script), and she's obviously surprised to be seeing Tony. She's even more surprised that he's being kind of nice to her. Tony explains the whole situation with Phil's car, and says that he'll be the one paying for the repairs. "Anything you can do to keep costs in line, would be a big help to me," he adds. I think most people who heard that would assume it means he doesn't plan on paying anything, but that doesn't seem to be the case here. Although he does make a big production out of expositing that he's the one who gave her permission to take over the shop, so who knows? Angie is grateful for the business, and also apparently desperate and lonely, because her face lights up like a nuclear fireball when Tony offhandedly mentions that "Carm sends her love." "Please say hello," begs Angie, but Tony is already getting back into his Escalade to drive off. Incidentally, Tony's new driver is played by former Baltimore Ravens defensive tackle Tony Siragusa. Yeah. Because what this show needs is more fucking Tonys. Bring back LT! Or at least Vinnie Delpino.

Livia's. Tony staggers drowsily down the steps in his robe, and opens the front door to find Carmela there, knocking furiously. Tony invites her in, although the living room is pretty much blanketed with empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and small colonies of semi-sentient protozoa. "The girl called in sick," he claims. "Get a new one," suggests Carmela. The protozoa remain neutral on that subject. Tony motions for Carmela to take a seat, and then goes all faux-formal and inquires, "May I get you anything?" with a tone of perfect self-mockery. Heh. She declines his offer, and he collapses down onto the sofa and asks after her father. Carmela confirms that Pa is going to be just fine, and then hands over a newspaper she must have grabbed off his doorstep. Aww. See? Those two crazy kids really do love each other. But not as much as they love their subtext. Carmela tentatively brings up the birthday party, and it's obvious right from the start that Tony had completely forgotten about it. It's also obvious that Carmela totally knew he would forget about it, so her coming over here to disinvite him seems a bit disingenuous. Then again, everyone else on the planet seems to know about the party, so I guess she'd have to tell him eventually. Anyway, Tony takes the news pretty well, claiming that he had already decided when they "broke up" that he wasn't going to attend. He does, however, pull out a wad of cash and offer to contribute. Carmela, unfortunately, still hasn't learned to leave well enough alone, so instead of accepting graciously, she tells him that she'd rather he spent that money to go back to this therapist. Which only makes sense if she somehow thinks it's his last $250 on Earth, but whatever. An argument ensues, with Tony displaying his typical immaturity by retorting that Carmela is the one who needs a shrink, and Carmela displaying her typical shrewishness by bitching that she can't afford one. And then she leaves, and a particularly eloquent paramecium sidles over to Tony and asks if he can borrow the cash to get his cilia fluffed for a big date with a flagellate from over by the end table.

Junior's Joint. He's camped out in the living room, watching La Dolce Vita on cable, when Bobby comes over for his daily visit. Unfortunately, this scene really only serves to offer up the double whammy of reminding me how much I resent a Junior scene in an episode with no Silvio or Paulie, and also highlighting how crappy HBO's rotation of movies tends to be these days. Junior bitches, as he is wont to do, and then Bobby gossips, as he is wont to do. It seems he ran into Rosalie Aprile over at the bakery, and she told him all about Pa's big birthday bash. Junior is more than a little miffed that he didn't get an invite, so he decides to call up Hugh and personally deliver his regrets at not being able to attend. Bobby warns him that it's supposed to be a surprise, but that doesn't stop Junior. "What are we, children?" he asks. Well, let's see. You wander off unattended, you frequently sob uncontrollably, and you often have trouble controlling your excretory functions. Yep, sound like a child to me. At any rate, Junior dials directory assistance to get the DeAngelis' number, and then gleefully pushes the button to have the call auto-dialed. "What the fuck, it's over anyhow," he mutters. Okay, fine. Heh. Pa answers the phone, and seems a bit nonplussed to be hearing from Junior, who complains that he can't attend the "jubilee" because "the federal government says I can't leave the house, and my family keeps me sedated." Wow. I think this guy spent a little too much time hanging out with Livia during his golden years. Junior also explains his decision to ruin the surprise by saying that at their age, it's a surprise just to wake up in the morning. Hugh, however, obviously abides by a fairly liberal spoiler policy, because he's thrilled to learn that there are surprise shenanigans afoot, and hangs up with a happy grin. Bobby, on the other hand, just puts down his coffee and stomps right out of Junior's house without saying a word.

Bada Bing. Tony is in the back office, and Diet Tony comes shuffling in to deliver his weekly kick up. He seems fairly happy with his new air bag assignment, although he does joke that when he was in prison, he thought an air bag "was Paulie Walnuts." Oh, Michael. Show, don't tell. Tony is happy to see his cousin returning to a profitable life of crime, although that happiness dissipates fairly quickly when Diet Tony asks for more responsibilities. "I think I could be of a lot more service to you in other areas," explains the thin one, "and getting straightened out wouldn't hurt either." Just as he did with Feech, Tony suggests that Diet Tony remain focused on what he's already got. And then Tony -- who's looking very tony in his black button-down -- suggests that he, Tony Siragusa, and Diet Tony all sit down to watch the Tony awards, where Tony! Toni! Ton! will be giving a live performance of their smash hit "The Toe/Knee Two-Step," from a popular new musical about the life and times of Nancy Kerrigan. Okay, not really. Instead he just offers to lend his cousin some money, although Diet Tony declines the offer. The subject then changes to Pa's upcoming surprise party, because Diet Tony has been invited, and he doesn't know what to get the guy for a gift. This forces Original Tony to explain that he won't actually be in attendance, although in his version of the story, he's the one who suggested the whole non-invite idea, instead of Carmela. Diet Tony doesn't believe that anymore than he believes that JFK was going to leave Jackie for Fran Felstein.

Phil and his sidekick Joey Peeps show up at the Bonpensiero body shop to collect his car, and Phil is all done up in that neck brace I mentioned earlier. It's a pretty funny visual, although it definitely would have been better if it were one of those cone things they put on dogs. Those are always good for a laugh. Phil refuses to talk business with Angie, preferring instead to wait until Pussy's brother emerges from the bathroom. Once he does, they exchange greetings, and Phil decides he wants to get caught up on the latest family gossip. "I was away when all that shit went down with your brother," he says. "What the fuck happened?" "We don't like to talk about it," replies the brother. And here's an interesting nickname dilemma for you: should Pussy's brother be called Penis, Asshole, or Twat? Because you could sort of make a legitimate case for any one of them. And why am I the only recapper that has to ponder questions like this? Angie and Asshole lead Phil over to the car, which looks pretty much perfect. Phil, however, isn't going to let Tony off that easy. First, he claims to spot a tiny dent in the side panel, and then he starts complaining that the paint looks duller. Penis assures him that everything is as it should be, but Phil climbs into the passenger seat, and loudly announces that it feels "off-kilter." He orders Joey to check it out, and Mr. Peeps makes a big show of settling into the seat and failing to get comfortable. Well, duh. It's not a Cadillac. Only product-placed cars get heated seats. "It reclines strange, too," adds Phil, despite the fact that no one has actually tried reclining the seat. Heh. He storms out, or at least hobbles out, Angie frantically trying to convince him that there's nothing actually wrong with the car. Twat just stands there, looking stupid and wishing his name were Tony.

Casa di Soprano. Carmela and AJ are eating dinner with her parents, and Carmela is trying to be all sly and convince her father that they're just going to Vesuvio for his birthday. Hugh can't hide his smug little smile, though, and Carmela quickly guesses that the proverbial cat is out of the birthday bag. Ma immediately blames AJ, but Pa is quick to finger Junior, which prompts Carmela to bitch about "that miserable fucking man." To my utter surprise, neither Ma not AJ chides her for the language. It's all water under the geezer bridge as far as Pa is concerned, and he even parrots Junior's line about not needing a surprise party because just waking up every day is a surprise. He asks about the guest list, and Ma rattles off a bunch of names, including a "Dr. Fegoli," which piques Pa's interest. "Who's Dr. Faggo?" asks AJ. Hee hee. That joke is even funnier if you speak Yiddish. Carmela is definitely not a Fegoli fan, because they like to send out five-page Christmas cards every year, with lengthy anecdotes about things like the time the good doctor got to shake hands with Andrew Cuomo on Flag Day. Hmm. I guess the guy's not famous enough to get Mario. Although Andrew is still better than Alphonse D'Amato. She also doesn't like the fact that Ma and Pa weren't invited to the ceremony back when Doc Fegoli received some kind of medal. What kind of medal, you ask? Well, Dr. Fegoli worked for the State Department, and was once an assistant to the U.S. ambassador to the Holy See. "He got a medal from the Pope himself!" exclaims Ma. "But when were kids together in the Navy," adds Pa, "he had such a bad case of the crabs that we called him the Governor of Maryland." Bwah! AJ loves that line almost as much as I do, but the women are totally mortified. Pa also seems to be operating under the assumption that Tony will be attending this soiree, until Carmela breaks the news that everyone thought it would be a good idea if he didn't show up. Pa calls that "a crock of shit," adding, "I've known the man for twenty-something years. It's his house. How's it gonna look?" He also accuses Carmela of "putting the screws" to Tony, which technically she won't actually be doing for another twenty minutes or so, and then leaves the table and the room while shouting that if Tony's not at the party, he won't be either. The hell? Since when has Pa ever liked Tony? As far as I can tell, the only things in life the guy has ever cared about are minor home repairs and telling boring war stories. In fact, not three weeks ago he was telling Carmela to get on with her life. So can anyone out there give me a reason why he's so upset about this? And "because the writers needed a reason to make Carmela eat crow" doesn't count.

While driving around in his car, Tony gets a call from Angie on his cell phone. She reports on what went down with Phil, and explains that she didn't want to do any extra repairs without checking with Tony first. Here's his incredibly helpful response: "You want to run a body shop, run a body shop. You said you could claim your piece of the garage. You want to be a woman in business, then do what you think the situation calls for?" Wow. That's almost Zen. He brushes off all of her repeated attempts to find out if he'll pay for the extras, and then he basically laughs in her face and hangs up. But hey, at least he didn't smash up her car again, right?

Diet Tony, meanwhile, is getting it on with Dr. Gina. In keeping with the strict sense of decorum that would befit a woman whose day job involves giving comprehensive medical examinations to Muppets ("Turn your head and cough please, Oscar"), Dr. Gina has the black bed sheet pulled all the way up to her neck, lest any of us in the audience get a glimpse of her presumably wholesome and family-friendly nipples. I mean, I understand her concerns, but it almost looks like these two are Orthodox Jews on their wedding night, if you know what I mean, and if you do, you're a dork who paid too much attention in Sunday school. In what I hope for his sake is a meta-reference to his sexual prowess, Diet Tony's cell phone suddenly starts blaring "We Are the Champions," and our chaste little love-fest is interrupted by a call from Tony Soprano. He explains the body shop situation to his clearly annoyed cousin, referring to Phil as "The Shah of Iran" (but not "The Ayatollah of Neck Brace-ola"), and asking Diet Tony to go down there the day and make sure things don't get out of hand. Diet Tony agrees, and tries to get back to an evening brought to him by the letters S, E, and X, but Regular Tony is in the mood for a little chit-chat. He goes on at length about the weather and his plans to grab an ice cream sundae, while Diet Tony just rolls his eyes and waits for the boss to shut up. In other words, the boss never lets Diet Tony have any fun. That's one of your major themes of the evening. And my life.

Sometime later on, Diet Tony meets with Angelo and Frankie Valli in a restaurant that I'm going to assume is The Four Seasons whether it actually is or not. Frankie reveals that Angelo has spoken highly of Diet Tony, because they were like "Fric and Frac" back in prison. Apropos of almost nothing, I'd just like to announce that I live less than a block from Frick Park. But not, however, on Frack Avenue. That's two streets over. Angelo was also particularly fond of Diet Tony's now famous Jackie Gleason impersonation, and DT is easily persuaded to perform a quick bit for Frankie, who is considerably less impressed. And here's a sentence I never thought I'd write, by the way: Jackie Gleason is totally the new shaven pubic hair. Getting back to the business at hand, Angelo mentions that they've heard Diet Tony might be interested in earning a little extra cash on the side. "Somebody needs to go," whispers Angelo. "Anyone I know?" asks Diet Toe. Frankie insists that it's a New York guy and not New Jersey, and further adds that it's "a friend of a friend. Not a friend of ours." Wouldn't that mean the guy was a civilian? I'm just asking. In this case, however, it indicates that they're talking about a friend of Johnny Sack's. It seems Little Carmine was an old-school chum of the late Lorraine the Loan Shark (you know, from late December, back in '63), and now he wants the guys who whacked her taken out. Diet Tony considers this proposition for a long moment, and then announces that he can't take the job, because he wants to give his cousin "the benefit of the doubt," and Tony has been quite clear about his desire to remain neutral in the New York war. Angelo asks him to think about it, and then Foreshadowing arrives to take their order.

That same night, Carmela calls Tony, and basically swallows her pride in order to ask him to come to the party after all. I think it's a measure of how much Tony still loves his wife that that's the only thing he makes her swallow. Carmela insists that Pa really wants him there, and even though Tony worries that it's short notice and claims he made plans to go fishing with Silvio, he still finally agrees to make an appearance. Carm is especially interested in having him work the grill, because Artie is only doing the appetizers, as he'll really be more of a guest than a caterer. I wouldn't even let Artie scrub the toilets after one of my parties, but I guess it takes all kinds. Anyway, Carmela says that the day of the party (which is now tomorrow) will be "a madhouse" and "a living hell," because she's doing most of the cooking herself.

The day, Carmela is doing most of the cooking herself. She's flying around the kitchen, rattling the pots and pans, and taking delivery of an impressively decorated birthday cake. The doorbell rings, adding yet another obligation, and she hurries into the foyer to answer it. It's Diet Tony, and he's standing there with his sons. "I know you're short-handed," he offers, "so I thought you might need some help around here today." And by "help," of course, he means additional babysitting responsibilities and some questionably perverse leering. And who couldn't use more of that? And so we cut straight to Diet Tony, yanking a lawn chair out of the pool and admonishing his kids for destroying the Soprano's property. Oh, please. Those chairs have been through much worse than a quick dunking. One of them got crushed by the bear, and another one is about to spend the entire night in close contact with Artie's back hair. Ew.

Carmela is back in the kitchen through all this, and Diet Tony finally comes inside and asks if there's anything he can do. She's basically too busy to pay any attention to him, but she does lament the fact that they don't have any dip. But what about AJ? Rimshot! Diet Tony offers to pick some up, but unfortunately the grocery store he was planning to use closed down about ten years ago. Oops. So instead, he pours himself a drink, and offers one to Carmela as well. "I make a mean Rusty Nail," he announces. Carmela just looks at him like she was wishing he already had lockjaw. Changing tactics, he thanks her for letting the kids use the pool. "They love being here," he admits. "This is truly a beautiful home." She's still ignoring him, however, because now AJ has come downstairs, and she has someone new to yell at. Because this is obviously the "Let's pile on Carmela" segment of the broadcast, AJ has himself a letter from Counselor Wegler that she was supposed to take care of.

This news doesn't make mommy any happier, and then just when you think things can't get any worse, Meadow arrives, Finn in tow. Oy. It really is "a living hell." Finn heads out to the pool (though not before getting a very dirty look from Uncle Diet Tony, whatever that may mean), and Meadow immediately starts going through all the cabinets, looking for a baking pan so that she can make Grandpa's favorite "maple-walnut icebox cake." Carmela, of course, was hoping for actual help from her daughter, which just goes to show that she's quite possibly the stupidest person on the face of the Earth. Diet Tony, meanwhile, has been staring at Meadow this entire time, and she finally looks up and notices. In a tone that's probably a little more flirtatious than necessary, she asks if he's had any luck tracking down his daughter Kelly. Diet Tony say no, although he has been "scouring the internet" ever since he got out of jail. Hmm. If she is on the internet, I'm not really sure he's going to want to find her there. I do, however, have to give credit to Steve and Jamie-Lynn, because these two manage perfectly to straddle the line between innocent grieving father/surrogate daughter affection and creepy jailbird uncle/hot teenaged niece incest. And by straddle, I don't actually mean "straddle," by the way.

Carmela has grabbed the letter from Wegler and carried into the dining room to read.

Meadow and Diet Tony are still behind in the kitchen, and continue their conversation about Kelly. "I can imagine how much you must miss her," sighs Meadow, and Tony takes that as an opportunity to sidle a bit closer and exposit the fact that Kelly lived with Soprano family for a few years until her twelfth birthday. "How'd she do in school back then?" he asks, looking more paternal than we've ever seen him. "Straight A's," answers Meadow. Well then maybe Kelly would be smart enough to figure out how to break this scene up into paragraphs, because right now it's killing me.

The Kelly conversation is interrupted by the sound of honking from outside, and Carmela soon runs out there to find her parents in the driveway. Ma is laying on the horn and looking anxious. Pa is trying to lift that power-vac he borrowed in the season premiere out of the trunk. Carmela complains that they always show up hours early to these events, while Meadow cheerfully wishes her grandfather a happy birthday. Carm wants Diet Tony to help carry the vacuum, but Meadow reports that he had to step out for a while, and has left them saddled with the twins to boot. Carmela looks furious, and then we see Diet Tony cruising down the driveway in a Cadillac convertible that he could never actually afford if he were really as poor as he claims to be. Unless it was a gift from the Product Placement Fairy, of course. "What a burden," snarks Ma. "Excuse us for living." Sorry, Ma. Can't do it.

Bonpensiero's. Diet Tony arrives just as Phil is checking out his car again. DT introduces himself to Joey Peeps, and there's a bit of low-level mobster bonding as they both take in Phil's increasingly ridiculous antics. "I don't feel like I'm sitting at twelve o'clock," he bitches, still complaining about the passenger seat. And frankly, I don't understand why that's a problem, anyway. Isn't it supposed to be ten and two? Diet Tony samples the seat himself, and declares that it seems fine to him. Phil won't take fine for an answer, though, and demands yet again that it be dealt with, which elicits a little eye-rolling laugh from Joey Peeps. Angie whines that replacing the seat will cost a fortune, which prompts Diet Tony to suggest that they just throw in a CD player and call the whole thing even. Except Phil already has a CD player. Oops. If only he'd suggested satellite radio. Phil leaves while Angie is furiously ranting that she's getting screwed out of a $2,000 factory seat, and Joey takes this time to say how happy he was to meet Diet Tony. Oh, yeah? See if you still feel that way in half-an-hour.

And, at long last, it's finally party time, with everyone gathered in the back yard. We see Chris and Adriana chatting with Cousin Brian, and Pa pouring drinks for a bunch of his geezer buddies. A half-dozen or so kids are frolicking in the pool, while nearby, Finn is running an ice cube down Meadow's cleavage. Oh, that's nice. Those kids will be in therapy for years. On the other hand, I've never liked Meadow more. Inside, Carmela is still cooking when Ma comes in, freaking out because she's just discovered that Dr. Fegoli is allergic to tomatoes. Ma, as we'll soon come to learn, has something of class crush on the good doctor, and she's very concerned that things go perfectly for him. Artie saves the day (another sentence I never thought I'd write) by telling her that he's got some appetizers with no tomatoes, and Ma rushes off to make Fegoli a plate.

When she delivers it to his table, we join Father RinTinTin in the middle of a smarmy discourse on how it must be awful for an Italian to be allergic to "pommodori." Dr. Fegoli, who is played by Bruce Kirby, claims the allergy came on suddenly, after they gave him radiation for his prostate. And that mental image is probably the only thing disgusting enough to distract me from how annoying Intintoola is. Ma tells everyone that Livia and the rest of the Soprano family always hated northern Italian cooking, mostly because they're not big fans of the butter. Um, has she ever seen Tony? He's probably got "Butterball" printed right on his butter gut, for God's sack. There are all kinds of subtle class warfare going on in this scene, as Ma complains that the Sopranos are tasteless and tacky, because they never went to Italy, and thus can't understand the majesty of the food. "I ate like a champ all the way up and down The Boot, the whole two weeks" adds Pa, which unintentionally invalidates the pretentious point that Ma was trying to make. Hoping to distract the Fegolis from this fact, Ma praises the recipes they used to send, calling them "a revelation." And then her lips start to melt, because they're puckered right up against the doctor's radioactive ass.

Back inside, Diet Tony has been given the a new job as the event's official videographer. Ooh. As someone who's done a few wedding videos in his day, I can totally feel Diet Tony's pain. He starts off by asking Carmela if she wants to say a few words, but she's way too tightly wound at this point, especially because Tony hasn't even shown up yet. Which means, of course, that Tony shows up as soon as the words come out of her mouth. He's brought the charcoal and the meat, and that apparently includes the long string of fancy sausages he's got wrapped around his neck. Speaking as a Jew, I've often wondered whose idea it was to take all the leftover parts of a pig, stuff them into a plastic tube, and then fry it up and eat it for breakfast. That's just disgusting.

Tony obviously doesn't agree, however, because he carries the sausages outside to say hello to the birthday boy. And he accomplishes that goal by twirling the sausages around like giant, meaty nipple-propellers and singing a fake opera at the top of his lungs. It's definitely a grand entrance, but have we really learned nothing from Season 4? The don doesn't wear shorts, Tony. He runs over to Pa, rubs the sausages right in his face for some reason, and then gives the guy a great big hug. Pa is ecstatic. Dr. Fegoli is mortified. Pa makes the introductions, and Fegoli shakes Tony's hand like it's just been covered with uncooked pig entrails or something. As Carmela will later point out, I refuse to believe that a career diplomat could ever be that much of a blatant asshole. And I especially refuse to believe that a guy stationed in Italy for years would be surprised to find himself face to face with an unsavory character like Tony. In any event, Tony is pleased to have a doctor in the house, because "someone usually goes down at these things." Fegoli is thus forced to explain that his doctorate is actually in International Relations. "From Princeton," adds Ma, like she thinks that means God himself handed down the diploma on Mt. Sinai. (Incidentally, if Kim is writing week's recap, you'll know that means Sars is reading this one.) "So you're a doctor like Kissinger is a doctor?" asks Tony, and Fegoli deigns to agree that this is at least a reasonable simile. Pa further reveals that the doctor has had an audience with four different popes. Wow. Does that include the one that only lasted thirty days? Tony makes yet another stupid joke before leaving to work the grill, and you can totally see Ma cringing like he just dropped trou and pulled a sausage out of his ass.

Cut to meat, and lots of it. Tony is finally back in his element, working, like, three grills at once. Carmela calls everyone over to the patio, and once they've gathered around, she makes a toast to her father. It's very sweet, if a bit Hallmark Hall of Fame, and Pa is almost moved to tears. After hugging his daughter, Pa immediately turns to Tony, and thanks him for having everyone in his home. Carmela raises an eyebrow at this, but lets it go, mostly because Pa has already moved on to thanking Ma for putting up with Pa for all these years. They kiss, and she wipes the tears from his eyes, and it's actually touching enough to make me like the both of them for one brief, shining moment. "And thank all you freeloaders for coming," Pa adds, which gets way more laughs that that joke deserves. Carmela suggests that they start opening gifts, but Ma worries that enjoying the thoughtfulness of others might seem "mercenary." "Well, good," replies Carmela. "People spent money on them." Tony makes sure his gift is first, and it turns out to be a huge, rectangular felt-lined box. "A Stratocaster?" wonders Finn. Oy. Of course, Meadow always did like them dumb. Which is why I always liked Lauren Ambrose. The gift is actually a Giubileo 12-Gauge Baretta shotgun, which I'm told by my hunting-fanatic co-worker is a very, very nice one. Pa absolutely loves it.

Elsewhere, Diet Tony, his kids, his mother, and Christopher's mother (Joanne Blundetto, in case you've forgotten) are sullenly camped out at table in the back. "Nice to have money," gripes Diet Tony, as he watches the gifts. Then he sends his kids to get him another beer. They're drinking Western Pennsylvania-produced Rolling Rock, by the way. Shout-out or product-placement? You be the judge. "What time did you start drinking today?" asks Mama Blundetto. "Probably right after you got up," snarks Joanne. Heh. Then Carmela calls DT back to his camcorder duties, and he grumpily gets up to comply. Been there, done that.

On the patio, Pa has finally gotten the gun assembled, much to the delight of the gathered crowd. If this were Six Feet Under, it totally would have gone off accidentally and killed Dr. Fegoli by now. It's still The Sopranos, however, so instead we just get a close-up of cousin Brian, so we can all be sure it actually is cousin Brian, and not Thin Guy or Jerry or Fabio, what with the billowing white silk shirt the dude is wearing. Tony jokes that he expects a freezer full of venison by the end of the year, and I have to admit that I was a little bit spooked by the extended, excessively-detailed guns and ammo discussion that line prompted in the forums this week. If I'd known how many gun nuts there were amongst you, I'd have been a lot more careful with the ban button. Clearly bored by the boys and their toys, Diet Tony starts goofing off and filming stuff like Tony's gut and Carmela's ass. You know, I once lent my camera to the best man for about fifteen minutes at a wedding, and when I went back to check the tape, I found an uninterrupted, fifteen minute shot of the bride's cleavage. Who wants to guess whether that marriage lasted?

Fade to later, as it's now after dark. Fegoli is pontificating to Pa about the quality of Baretta's workmanship. He's even visited their studio in Italy, a fact which impresses Tony to no end. But then Dr. F adds that they never export their best pieces, which is a total faux pas, because it means that Pa's is faux. Tony is livid, and stomps off without saying another word. Everyone else is quiet and awkward, until one of the geezers finally breaks the tension by telling a story about the time Pa threw a cherry bomb at some German soldiers. Hmm. Was that during the great battle of Nova Scotia?

Carmela comes over to join Tony by the grill, and thanks him warmly for everything he's done. "You made my father's year with that gun," she tells him "He deserves it," agrees Tony, who really does seem to like the guy. They share an awkward silence, because they're actually feeling pleasant toward one another, and they don't seem to know how to handle that. Tony gets them back into their usual routine by commenting that he could use a beer, and Carmela is delighted to fetch one for him. She brings back two bottles from a nearby cooler, and they smile and silently toast each other. He then asks if she thinks the food looks done, but Carmela defers to his expertise on all things meaty. "You're the Grillmeister," she says. Oh, he'll be grilling her meister, all right, but that's not for another ten minutes or so.

Over by the pool, Meadow and Diet Tony are deep in conversation. She's liberalizing about how the legal system screws minorities and Arabs and whatnot, and Diet Tony piles on by saying that the penal system represents the ultimate insult to civil rights. "The nature of the system instills a convict mentality to the point where prison becomes the only venue where the convict can function," he preaches. Uh huh. Tell that to Tobias Beecher, why don't you? Regular Tony comes over to join them, and continues our theme of spoiling things for his slender sidekick by pulling Meadow onto his lap and giggling with her about various childhood memories. Once again, it's hard to tell if Diet Tony is more jealous of the fatherhood or the lap-sitting. Carmela, meanwhile, watches from afar, and smiles wistfully when she sees Tony reintegrating himself into the family so easily.

Once Meadow leaves, the Tonys light up cigars, and discuss the Phil fiasco. Diet Tony reports back on the $2,000 factory seat Phil wants, and Tony sports his standard shit-eating grin when he says that he'd hate to see Angie get stuck with a bill like that. "Then again," he continues, glancing at Carmela, "her friend over there is taking me to the cleaners with this divorce shit. I gotta belt-tighten." Wow. I'm surprised Tony can even wear a belt at this point. I was assuming he just tied a string of sausages around his waist every morning, so he'd at least always have a snack handy. Then the editing gets sort of random for a few moments, and we cut to a shot of Pa almost passing out from exertion and drunkenness. Carmela calls Diet Tony over to give them a hand, prompting him mutter, "What am I, a slave?" as he gets up to leave his cousin. Regular Tony is shocked by this display of rudeness, despite the fact that he's said way worse right to Carmela's face about a googol times. But then he takes a few bites from his sausage belt, and all is well once again.

Continuing with our weird shot selection, we're suddenly out in front of the house, as Chris and Adriana lead his mother out to a car. She's complaining that she wasn't drinking (which is totally not true), and Chris looks pissed off like only a recovering addict with an alcoholic mother and a dyspeptic fiance can. Also in the driveway are Carmela and her parents, as the drunken Pa is loaded into the backseat of his car. Tony puts the shotgun in the trunk (without bothering to put it back in its case first), while Ma makes apologies to the Fegolis for this shocking display of bad manners. Once they've left, presumably to attend a kegger at the Vatican or some such, Carmela immediately tears into her mother for apologizing to the guests. "Oh please," whines Ma. "The off-colored jokes, the sausage twirling...." Carmela realizes that Ma is talking about Tony, and if anything, this gets her even madder. "These are cultured Italians," explains Ma. "He's a success, a diplomat. This was a shock to him." Oh, please. This guy was working in a country that elected a porn star to Parliament. He's a snob, not a shrinking violet. Although I do suppose Ma wouldn't exactly see it that way. Carmela reminds her mother that Dr. Fegoli not only insulted his hosts, but also grew up on "Arthur Avenue," which I have to assume is in some shady Italian neighborhood, and not in any way adjacent to the entirely fictional Frack Avenue by my house. "Whatever we are," she snarls, "I am proud of it. Unlike you, obviously. I remember you telling Aunt Rose you were glad 'DeAngelis' didn't end in a vowel. And when Meadow came out, 'Oh my God, she's so dark!'" Ma tries to leave, but Carmela isn't finished. "There are Italians all around with their closet self-loathing. I just never wanted to believe my mother was one of them." And yeah, you should probably feel free to substitute "Michael Imperioli" for "Carmela" and "people who didn't like 'Christopher'" for "my mother" in that sentence.

Even later that night, the last few guests are playing Marco Polo in the pool. In case you're keeping score, the players include Tony, Artie, AJ, Meadow, Finn, and, I think, Cousin Brian. Artie is it, but when Tony spots Carmela wandering by, he quickly jumps out of the pool. "Fish out of water," shouts Artie, proving that even Marco can be meta. Tony, however, is taking a break, and he walks over to help Carmela with the clean-up. Or at least that's what he's pretending to do. What he's really after is a chance to throw her into the pool, and within about ten seconds, he's got her arms and AJ has her legs, and just like that, Carm is taking a swim. I was totally expecting her to be furious, and she does seem a bit peeved at first. But then Tony and AJ celebrate by executing matching cannonballs into the water, and she seems to get into the spirit of things just a bit. Never one to let an opportunity to grate go unannoyed, Artie immediately taps Carmela and declares that she's it. Reluctantly, and with a pitch-perfect tone of exasperation, Carmela sighs, "Marco." Hee! That's totally my new start-up sound.

Diet Tony, on the other hand, has left the party, and is putting his boys to sleep. They're sharing a bed at his mother's house, which is yet another contrast to the lavish Soprano lifestyle. Diet Tony spots a binder of some sort in their laundry, and after a brief interrogation learns that it contains a bunch of Olympic pins from Atlanta that one of the kids stole out of AJ's closet. I can't be bothered to tell them apart at this point, but the guilty one has just as many jealousy issues as his father. "[AJ] doesn't care," snots the kid, which, while probably true, still doesn't excuse the theft. "With all the stuff he has? He got to go to the Olympics and everything. I love where he lives. I don't want to come back here." Yeah. You wouldn't say that if you actually had to live with AJ for a while. Trust me, kiddo. Diet Tony is chagrined that his son would steal from his own family, as opposed to just finding money in the bushes, or stealing from people who have air bags in their cars, which are known far and wide and noble and honorable professions. He confiscates the pins and their Game Boys, and orders his son to apologize to AJ the day.

Back in the pool, Devin has magically appeared somehow, and she's leading AJ away because she has to get home. This leaves Tony and Carmela alone in the water to discuss AJ's budding sexuality. I thought it would be impossible to come up with a more disgusting topic, but then we cut over to Artie, who's wrapped his head in a towel turban and fallen asleep in one of the patio chairs. It's almost enough to make me want to see AJ having sex, although that likely has more to do with Devin's bikini than anything else. Tony gets a little gleam in his eyes, and starts moving closer to Carmela, talking about how wild they were back when they were AJ's age. "You know what it's like," he says. "Can't wait to see each other, can't keep your hands off each other..." And with that, he reaches out and starts rubbing Carmela's stomach, and slowly backing her up against the wall of the pool. Carmela resists, but it's definitely resistance of the "no means yes" variety, because the best excuse she can muster is that Artie is sleeping right to them. Given what we know about their past, however, I'd be pretty shocked if this is actually the first time they've ever fooled around while Artie slept by himself nearby. Tony kisses her, and Carmela starts to get into it, and then he starts slowly kissing his way down her body. Carm gets that blissful look on her face, but Tony still isn't quite as "giving" as Wegler, so he soon pops back up and returns to straight kissing. And that's just about the hottest sex you'll ever see married people have.

And then, suddenly, it's morning, and Artie wakes up and staggers back into the house.

Diet Tony is also awake, suffering through a silent breakfast while his mother watches a TV show about tenderizing meat. Always with the subtext on this show. Cut to Frankie Valli, getting a call, and Diet Tony glumly announces that he's in.

Das Sopranohaus. Tony is awake and pulling on his clothes, but before leaving, he does at least make an effort to see if Carmela is awake. In what may actually be a first for televised entertainment, she completely fails open her eyes once he's gone and reveal that she was awake the whole time.

And then, finally, we end our evening in a whorehouse. It seems somehow appropriate, don't you think? The hottest hooker in all of New Jersey (which pretty much just means that she still has all her teeth) is coming off her shift just as Joey Peeps is collecting for the week, and a wink and a smile from Joe is all it takes to convince her to leave with him. That will soon prove to be the worst decision of her life, but not for the reasons you might expect. As soon as they both get into Joey's car, Diet Tony suddenly appears and starts knocking on the window. Joey rolls it down to see what's up, and DT immediately whips out a gun and kills them both. Unfortunately, however, Joey had already disengaged the parking brake, so the car rolls forward and over Diet Tony's foot. Heh. This guy can't win for losing, can he? And as Diet Tony limps back to his car, and the music kicks up on the soundtrack, and a camera dolly rolls down the sidewalk, we fade to black, secure in the knowledge that bikinis and mob hits are always more fun than horses and cry-babies.