The Executive Game. Tim is playing with Chris, Wide Guy, Random Dude #1 ("The Car Wash King"), and Random Dude #2 (the...uh, "Sausage King of Chicago"), while Tony and Larry Barese watch from the sidelines. Wide Guy manages to win the hand, but the real action comes when Random Dude #1 starts asking Tim some TV questions: "So when you write on TV, what do they have, like one guy who writes the words for Dylan McDermott, and one guy who writes for Nicholson's girlfriend?" Heh. We should try doing a recap like that someday. Of course, this does sort of point out the big problem with the long hiatuses this show takes, because Dylan McDermott isn't even on that show anymore, and Terrence Winter has got to be kicking himself that he missed out on an easy Shatner joke here. You know, I think it's a little bit ironic that they're using this character to get in digs at all the crappy, poorly-written, poorly-executed shows on network TV, and yet director Steve Buscemi can't even get the eye-lines right in this scene. Random Dude #1 keeps looking off into an empty corner in all his close-ups. Oops. Christopher announces that he's calling it a night, but Tim decides to stay and keep playing, because he's been "getting killed." Oh, Timmy. You have no idea. The Sausage King starts to deal the next hand, and the Eagle-Eyed Forum Posters have correctly noted that he's dealing from the bottom of the deck. And I was totally going to put a huge paragraph here about how I love the obsessive attention to even the tiniest details of subtext that this show consistently demonstrates, but then they fucked up the eye-lines and I'm getting close to deadline anyway. So, sorry.
And speaking of sorry, cut to Tony pounding away at Valentina. No, not like that. For once, those of you with the dirty minds are right. She's all gasping, and moaning, and screaming, "show Valentina that you love her" over and over again. Oh, yeah. That's classy. Tony starts losing steam, presumably because he's distracted by her unwarranted usage of the third person (no, not like that). Then he looks up and sees a picture of a dog in a raincoat on the wall, and this somehow gives him the will to continue. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether the dog looked like a refugee and reminded him of Livia, or if a dog is just a dog and it reminded him of Fran. Because honestly, I don't want to think about it either way. What I do want to do, however, is tell the people who think it was hypocritical for them to cover Tony's ass this week when Carmela bared all last week that they're way off base. I mean, HBO is basically the Official Network of Sex, Death, Meat, and Male Nudity, or at the very least the only one where you don't have to pay-per-view to see a penis. Hell, if you take away Dream On and the Bada-Bing, the overall dick-to-tits ratio goes right through the roof (and no, not like that). And besides, male or female, gay or straight, I think we can all pretty much agree that Edie Falco has a much nicer ass than James Gandolfini.