Hey! It's Paulie! Woo-hoo! He's in prison somewhere, and the orange jumpsuit he's wearing is making his white-walls appear even whiter than normal. Noticing the time on a nearby wall-clock, he quickly jumps up and races an inmate I'll call Notabisi to the only available phone. Paulie wins the race, and carefully dials up Johnny Sack, who's enjoying a nice cup of tea in a restaurant overlooking Manhattan. They exchange pleasantries, and Johnny Sack cleverly pretends not to know why Paulie is in jail, thus driving the wedge between Paulie and Tony even deeper, and also allowing for us in the audience to be given the necessary exposition. David Chase is nothing if not efficient. Anyway, it turns out that Paulie went down to Youngstown, Ohio to visit a friend, and ended up getting busted on a weapons charge because of a pistol that was found in their car during a trip to Dean Martin's birthplace. I went to Youngstown to visit a friend once. That whole town is worse than a prison. And oddly enough, I actually ended up attending Catholic school there for day. I even learned how to say the Lord's Prayer in French, and let me tell you, that one went over like a lead balloon during Yom Kippur services last night. Anyway, Paulie whines about his situation a bit more, but all I can focus on is the fact that his pompadour is actively defying all known laws of physics. The hair actually appears to be floating about an inch above his scalp. It's…very bizarre. Paulie thanks Johnny again for taking an interest in his plight, but before he can continue, he catches sight of another inmate trying to change the station on the TV. "Leave that!" he shouts before hanging up. "Don't touch that! My program is coming on." Heh. You want to know the difference between The Sopranos and Six Feet Under? On SFU, his "show" would have been Oz.
Alan Ball: Dude, they're in prison! I can't believe you passed up the chance to show gay sex!
David Chase: I can't believe you're gonna have an Oscar, an Emmy, and a Golden Globe, and I still don't have dick.
Alan Ball: Come on, it's Hollywood. You know that. These people are genetically predisposed to like hot young gay undertakers way more than fat, brooding mobsters.
David Chase: Yeah, I know. But I'm busting my ass over here to make an intelligent, adult show, and then you waltz in with the talking corpses and the Bong-Cam scenes and suddenly everyone likes you better. Now I'm like the mean, old disciplinarian to your wacky, carefree young aunt.