A random doctor's office. Junior, Tony, Janice, and Bobby learn that Junior's medicine isn't working anymore, and so the doctor recommends that they adjust the dosage. Uh, yeah. Could you maybe add a little Benzedrine? I'm snoozing over here. Junior ends his sub-plot for the week by delivering the following sob story: "My life is death. I'm living in a grave. I beat prison, and for what? I have no children. Will somebody please explain this to me?" You know what's weird? That could totally be my story, as well. My life is death on this show, I live in a grave on Six Feet Under, I beat prison on Oz, and I'm still waiting for someone to explain Carnivàle to me. And, oh yeah. I have no children. Maybe that's because I never married.
And then we wrap things up for the week in the Bing, which is just chock full of gratuitous tit shots. God Bless America, my friends. Tony and the gang are gathered around the bar, and Tony is regaling them with stories about Fran, and bragging about her relationship with JFK. He's also embellishing it quite a bit, claiming that they dated for three years, and that Jackie Kennedy thought the marriage was over. Everyone buys it hook, line, and handkerchief, except Diet Tony, who starts to look a little skeptical near the end. But that doesn't really matter, because we cut back to the tits, and then Tony takes a long drag on his cigar that's never just a cigar, and The Sopranos fades to black while reminding us of ALL the reasons why network television just can't compete.