While they wait, Silvio recalls Vito's late-night phone call, which Chris astutely guesses was Vito fishing to find out whether word was out. Patsy reports that his call went right to voicemail. Silvio reminds Tony that Vito represents them. "I'm not gonna condemn the man off the word of some douchebag from Yonkers!" snaps Tony. I'm glad I'm not the only one who still says "douchebag," instead of the inferior truncated "douche." I kick it old school, 'cause I'm an old fool. Patsy says that he could care less, so Paulie suggests that maybe Patsy is a "plump [something]." Whatever it was, it's most assuredly not complimentary. Carlo suggests the ol' dragging-from-the-bumper treatment for the "fucking nauseating" Vito, and Tony calls Carlo "Judge Roy Bean." Silvio says that one of the Bing girls knows Vito's goomar, so maybe she's seen him or knows where he is. Patsy strolls out, Silvio still glaring at him. Carlo tells Tony to think about Vito's sudden weight loss. I truly had no idea what Carlo was getting at, but Paulie knew exactly: "AIDS?" he yells at Tony, who wasn't cluing in either. "Nobody's got AIDS!" yells Tony, who says he doesn't want to hear that word in there again. Too bad, as the girls greasing the poles out on the dance floor are more likely to be at risk. Fucking junior-high locker-room in here.
Over at South Bronx Law Centre: at the Free Legal Services for Underserved Persons, Meadow is listening to an Afghani family fret about their son, who was arrested four days ago for reasons they know not -- they don't even know where he's being held. "FBI went to his school and took him like a criminal. This is America?" asks the father. Pretty much. You didn't know this? The mother also complains about her daughter being made to take off her headscarf at a roller rink. "You're kidding me, why?" asks Meadow, aghast. Jeeves, tell the stableboy to get my saddle. I'll be getting on my high horse today. The daughter says, "He said it was for insurance. It might fall off, and someone could trip," she explains. The mother points out that this wouldn't happen if she'd been wearing a yarmulke. I like that, putting a wart on the nose of the downtrodden family. Discrimination comes in many forms, and just because your rights are being trampled doesn't mean you're a saint.
Not that Meadow picks up on the nuances. She's now in the Casa Soprano kitchen with Carmela, AJ, and Finn, complaining about the government "fucking over" this "poor, hardworking family." Well, sweetheart, your dad's guys can't be everywhere, can they? Someone's got to pick up the slack. Speaking of which, Tony strolls in, wanting to know when it became okay to use that kind of language in this house "with immunity [sic]." Meadow's better off saving her breath than telling Tony about the family, but she does anyway. Tony mimes playing a violin, and AJ laughs. What was it that got to you, AJ? Was it the idea that someone might work three jobs instead of jerking off at Blockbuster? "You think it's funny? The FBI snatched their son off the street like we're some Third World dictatorship," says Meadow, and Carm depressingly, and unfortunately accurately for a lot of people like her, says there must have been a reason. Maybe they're terrorists, offers AJ, who's Italian-American, so he's probably in the Mafia. If a mobbed-up family can't get outraged about the jackboot techniques of the FBI, say goodbye to any remaining civil rights. Meadow's never more annoying than when she's (mostly) right, because that's when she gets even more hectoring when she bitches about her family falling for Bush's bullshit use of 9/11 to erode everyone's constitutional protections. Carm shrugs, and says she voted for him; how that scores points in this debate is beyond me, but at least Meadow recognizes the futility of arguing and stomps off, but not before saying, "Right. You don't relate to black people clinging to logs." No, not like Meadow does. But (sigh) at least she's working at South Bronx Law Centre: Free Legal Services for Underserved Persons. Tony says she should "chill out about some of this." It's about as effective as yelling, "'Fraid not!"
But Tony's gears are apparently working, because over at the Bing, he asks a dumbbell-curling Chris about Muhammed and Ahmed. When Tony came in, by the way, Chris put down the dumbbell, and did that nose-wiping thing that usually signifies "cocaine user." Was Imperioli just scratching? He usually knows what he's doing, so maybe that's a signal; then again, he unfortunately briefly glanced at the camera at the beginning of the scene. Watch it again; you'll see it. But anyway. "You think there's a chance that they could be, I don't know, Al-Qaedas? Something like that?" asks Tony. Chris says that it did cross his mind, but I don't think he's blowing smoke, like he was when he was talking about his gaydar going off for Vito. The guys are both gun nuts, but Ahmed thought the protests over the Danish cartoons would reflect badly on all Muslims, while Muhammed and his girlfriend have a springer spaniel. Either Tony accepts this or can't think of any reason why he shouldn't accept it, and says he's going to go get a coffee. Chris watches him leave, looking like he's wondering what's up with T, and then furrows his brow like maybe he's thinking a little harder about Ahmed and Muhammed's possible Al-Qaeda-ness. I'm sure he'll work it out. Chris is a smart guy. In future news, Ahmed and Muhammed are dead. Or in jail.