Actual, Non-Bizarro Vesuvio. Tony, Sack, and Boon are smoking stogies and divvying up the spoils of Newark. Boon invites them to his office to see the scale model of the development project, which even has little people walking on the sidewalks. Sack points out that since it's Newark, there should be "little hookers giving little blowjobs." You know what? Screw Duncan Sheik, this was the best line in the episode. Boon mentions to Tony that Cop Roc has been making noise about getting transferred, and Tony looks almost compassionate until Boon also mentions that a black officer's group is looking into the situation. Boon asks for instructions, and Tony goes from caring to racist in two seconds flat, uttering a simple "Fuck him."
Over at the Newark FBI office, a little agent is telling his little boss that "the Soprano wiretap has been neutralized." Neither of them looks happy.
Junior's Joint. Junior gets comfy in front of the TV, and settles in to watch a movie. Just then, Bobby Bacala arrives, dressed in funeral black. He's surprised to see Junior not ready, since the funeral is about to start. Junior says he's not going, and keeps trying to concentrate on the TV. When Bobby presses him for a reason, Junior finally breaks down and admits that he has cancer. Bobby is speechless for a moment, and Junior has to lean to one side to see around him. Dominic Chianese is great here, and you can really see Junior's desperate need to think about anything but death. Bobby turns and mopes out, saying, "First my dad. Now you. What the fuck happened?" I wonder what he'll do when Junior finds a way to blame the cancer on Tony.
Speaking of Tony, he's returned to Fountains of Wayne. He's talking to Cop Roc about an $897 birdbath he's just purchased, and when he offers a $300 tip to ensure its safe delivery, Cop Roc doesn't even stop to think about it before walking away. As Tony learns a valuable lesson about racism and integrity, the director busts out his funky lens and holds a distorted shot of Tony, standing amongst a field of lawn gnomes. We pan up to the cloud-studded heavens above, and fade out.
David Chase: So this is heaven? Nice. I like the cloud motif.
God: Thanks. I made them myself.
David Chase: You know what would make this place better, though?
God: More pearl on the gates?
David Chase: Well, yeah, but I was thinking strippers. And maybe free shoes. Ooh, and free meat, too.
God: Get --