Anyway, the new plan is for Tig to escort Tara up, and Jax to "do some shit" before joining her. I have said it before and will say it again: the amount of tasks these bikers knock off in a working day is staggering. Forget the cult of David Allan's Getting Things Done (GTD). I want the SAMCRO guide to Getting Shit Done (GSD).
We zip from the bikers all coddling the boys on the playground in broad daylight to Gemma weaving around Unser's parking lot in the gloaming. She is more stoned than a Sig Ep chapter at a Dave Matthews concert. Tara asks if Gemma can watch the boys, and Gemma fuzzily consents. "I'm trusting you'll be safe with them, Gemma," Tara adds, and behind her, we see Tig swinging Abel on the swing while Phil dandles wee Thomas on his knee and points out what's going on and a giant anvil labeled, "FORESHADOWING" comes whistling down from the sky. Tara clicks off the phone, then looks at it as if wondering to herself, "Is it too late to ask Filthy Phil to watch them?" And the answer is: It is never too late. You should even bring him along should either Teller spawn make it to college; Phil could move an entire dorm room's worth of furniture in one go.
Meanwhile, on the other end, Gemma takes another hit off the joint and at this point, even Afroman is all, "There is such a thing as getting high too often, lady."
It's now dark and -- oh, look, Joel McHale's up to an evening of MILF-bilking. You can tell the lady he's with is supposed to be "older" because she's wearing an outfit straight out of the Coldwater Creek catalog. Anyway, Joel McHale has been waylaid by Nero and his men, all so Nero can beat the bejeesus about him.
Oh, look! Juicey has decided to sign his own death warrant by coming over to Clay's house and confronting him, inasmuch as Juice confronts anyone, with: "You knew Unser was on to the nomads ... did you kill Greg and Go-Go?" Clay promptly lies that the nomads were working for someone else, and Juice about piddles himself in fear. This kind of threat warrants telling the club! Cue motorcycles pulling up outside. Clay quips, "I got a feeling [the club] already knows." Clay then apologizes to Juice with "I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Juice opens the door and Jax gives him a Now I have to deal with YOU? look before Chibs says, "Let's go, Juicey," and drags him off, presumably for deprogramming.