AJ claims that he has no money, because Tony and Carmela made him get a crappy job. Oh, they made him get a crappy one? I'm so sure they said, "It's minimum wage and no more than twenty hours a week, or we won't stand for it!" AJ continues to lay down the guilt trip, and Tony tells him to find another job. AJ ignores this suggestion, because it makes sense, and waits for what he knows is coming: Carmela wonders when AJ's going to go back to school. AJ snits, "Okay, for the hundredth time: I can't register until second semester." Man, does that kid need an ass-whupping. And also, can we go back to Tony's suggestion about finding another job? AJ stalks off, saying, "I do what you guys want. Don't I deserve some kind of life?" So his parents want him to act like a little bitch?
At the New Hampshire fire scene, Vito stands around with all of the other looky-loos. His buddy from the diner (who I'm just going to call Morgan Spurlock, because the resemblance is too strong not to) dons his fire gear and runs inside. Some woman stops Morgan and screams something about her baby. Morgan Spurlock disappears into the house and returns carrying a kid. All of the looky-loos applaud. I wish I could make fun of this scene, but I've kind of been there. My name is Kim, and I'm a looky-loo.
Tony and AJ are out on the Stugots II. Either this scene was filmed out of order, or AJ's hair grew like five inches in one day, because he's back to the longer hair from the beginning of the season. I have to admit that I didn't even notice it on first viewing, but looking at it now, it's a pretty embarrassing continuity error for a show that is usually so good about those types of things. Anyway, they're drinking beers together and fishing, a real bonding moment. Tony burps, and AJ burps in response. Ah, father-son love. AJ asks hesitantly what they're going to do about Uncle Junior. Tony says that Uncle Junior's in jail for the rest of his life, and is "a walking corpse, so fuck him." AJ thinks that there's more to talk about, but Tony considers the case closed, and thinks AJ should, too. AJ stews over this for a moment, and then puts down his fishing pole and stomps into the cabin of the boat.
Patsy and Burt walk around the neighborhood, making collections. They visit a butcher and a live chicken store. Yes, really. Finally, they enter an upscale coffee shop. It's Starbucks. They don't call it that, but that's what it's supposed to be. Patsy introduces himself to Dale, the manager, and welcomes him to the neighborhood. Patsy claims to be from the "North Ware Merchants Protection Cooperative," and Dale thinks they're soliciting a donation. Patsy explains that it's "a transitional neighborhood" and the police can't provide all the necessary protection, so the shop can pay membership dues to him for protection. It's a shakedown, but Dale doesn't get it, and says anything like that would have to be authorized by their corporate offices in Seattle. Patsy keeps trying, and Dale keeps saying that he doesn't have the money. Burt wonders how Corporate would feel if the store took a brick through a window. Dale, clearly in need of a brick to the head, snarks, "They've got, like, ten thousand stores in North America. I don't think they'd feel anything." Patsy, realizing Dale needs a rude awakening, wonders how corporate would feel if one of their employees, like a manager, was assaulted. Dale finally catches on, and says that "every last coffee bean" has to be accounted for, and if "the numbers don't add up," he'll get fired and another guy will pop up in his place. Patsy and Burt realize the venture is fruitless, and walk out. Patsy pauses to muse: "It's over for the little guy."
It's morning in New Hampshire. Vito is greeted by the inn's owner, who invites him to join the other guests for breakfast. I can't believe he doesn't take her up on it, seeing as how the other guests are currently sitting around the living room, having a scintillating conversation about dishwashers. Vito claims he has to go write his book, which is his cover story for why he's there. Vito wanders down the small town street, and a guy calls out, "Good mornin'!" Yes, he dropped the "g," because that's how people talk in friendly small towns.