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 next 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.