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No One Is To Blame

As we were lying in bed together one night, sharing a cigarette and picking cat hairs off the pillow, Sars explained to me about a little something she likes to call "The Pod Theorem." And before you ask, it has nothing to do with whales or body snatchers. Pods, you see, are groups of like-minded individuals who band together based on common interests or ideologies. The TWoP community, for example, could be considered a pod, as could your own circle of friends, wherever you may be. Pods can form and disband, grow and change membership, and even fight with other pods whose ideals may be in opposition to their own. And so as the cigarette burned down, and Sars reached over to grab my favorite vibrator, it occurred to me that ideas such as nationalism, tribalism, and ethnic identification are but pod theory writ large, with group upon group upon group overlapping and intertwining in an infinite Venn Diagram of humanity.

God, I love it when Sars is on vacation. On the other hand, if you really believe Sars would ever sleep with me, I've got some property down on Frelinghuysen Avenue I'd like to sell you. And besides, everyone knows Jessica is my real soul mate. Oh, and also Strega. And sometimes Shack.

Heh. Who's "mommy's little hoooah," now?

Anyway, on with the show. We open this week perched precipitously above the pig which adorns Satriale's. We're looking down on an assembled crew of Sopranos henchmen that includes (going clockwise) Bobby Bacala, Christopher, Joey Pants, Wide Guy, Patsy Pees-A-Lot, Guy Whose Sole Contribution To The Scene Is Loudly Blowing His Nose (formerly known as Thin Guy), Silvio, and Furio. As they so often do, the boys are sipping coffee and speaking intelligently about the important social issues of the day. Or maybe they're just betting on license plates. Either way, Bobby pipes up from his prime corner seat to read aloud an article about a planned Native American protest of the upcoming Columbus Day parade. Predictably, this news doesn't sit well with our Italian compadres. Here's a sampling of their thoughts on the issue:

Joey Pants: See, it's these Indians, and the Commie fucks.
Bobby Bacala: I wouldn't mind sitting on my ass all day, smoking mushrooms and collecting government checks.
Christopher: You gotta admit, they did get massacred, the Indians.
Silvio: It's not like we didn't give them a bunch of shit to make up for that. Land, reservations, and now they got the casinos.

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