Ed walks out of the bar just in time to see his red Hummer being hauled away on a flatbed truck. If we learn nothing else from this scene (and we won't), let's learn that yelling that the driver of the towing vehicle is a moron will do nothing to return your Hummer to you. Ed's cell phone rings. It's Danny, wondering how things are going, and a discombobulated Ed rambling about the "crazy Hawaiians" with their "leis and whatnot" and how they have a tendency to get a little familiar, like, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, ED, and Danny drops a hint about the Hawaiians "driving" Ed crazy, and then quickly hangs up.
While Mike hangs off of Frank, who apparently is still winning big, Sam does her best to wheedle Jim and Janet No-Gamble into dropping some of their money. Keeping in mind Nessa's dumb story about finding the Warners' itch, Sam throws out suggestions like a private gaming room, a tour of Steve Wynn's art collection, a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, a shopping trip, none of which seems to get the Warners too jazzed up. "We're fine, Sam, thanks! We're good!" Undaunted, Sam offers "front-row for Celine, backstage with Tom Jones?" and the Warners decline, not because that sounds like the headlining act in Hell, but because Sam's done enough already. Sam actually sounds like she's offering sexual favours when she says she'll do anything they want her too. And with Janet making little "ask her, Jim" head-nodding motions, Jim says that there is one thing.
Meanwhile, back at Ed's mobile motel command unit, we see he's got an audio system hooked up, and he says into a microphone, "Commence Operation Desert Swarm." Omaha 19 consists, in this theatre anyway, of old men riding through the casino on motorized wheelchairs. I'm going to assume the tactics were somewhat different in the Second World War, unless the war was won by old people spinning in circles on the edge of the Grand Canyon and negotiating dangerously slick sidewalks on their own. Anyway, the Senior Sopranos fan out through the casino wreaking havoc -- opening fire doors, triggering fire alarms. Even more irritating, someone is playing "Ballroom Blitz" REALLY LOUDLY. In the surveillance room, Danny's all, "Dammit, Ed!" and tells the other guy whose name I still don't know to get a team together and meet Danny on the floor. And while nearly all of this is funny -- Vaseline on card tables? Whoopee cushions on chairs? Cantankerous old men somehow stuck in the prize car by the slot machines? -- I'm not buying it as something Ed would actually do, what with the Montecito being his baby and everything. I mean, having the crew dump extra roulette balls on the wheel? Grabbing waitresses? Putting fake turds by players' chips? Nuh-uh. It's not happening. Ed gleefully watches the action unfolding on the screen, with Jillian getting bored. Why is she there again? She seems to be wondering the same thing, and suggests to Ed that they "christen" the "presidential suite," but Ed is plenty fine getting off on turning his own casino upside-down. "I love the smell of Metamucil in the morning! It's the smell of victory," like, please don't drag Tom Hagen into your little prank war, Sonny. You know he's not a wartime consigliere. If he were, you wouldn't be in this shape. Commercials.