This recap is dedicated to my cousin Cooper, who is curled up in a little ball somewhere.
Das Wenig Lupertazzihaus. Little Carmine has finally completed his move back to New Jersey, and he's giving Angelo and some guy named Jerry a tour of the new house. They eventually make their way into a sunroom that's dominated on one side by a wall of windows looking out onto the ocean, and on the opposite side by a giant, wall-sized fresco of windows looking out onto a different ocean. Ooh, class-ay. Actually, if you really want to get technical, it's probably a sea, not an ocean (the Mediterranean, to be specific). But I can pretty much assure you that these guys are anything but technical. "You can almost smell the salt," gushes Angelo. "You mean the painting, or the view?" asks Little Carmine. Heh. Angelo actually rolls his eyes a bit before tiredly replying, "Both." "That's called a Trumpay Lee-yoil. 'Fool the eye,'" explains the little man of the house. "It was done by an artist right over here in West Hempstead." Oh, man. There are just so many things so perfectly wrong with that story. Little Carmine is totally what happens when Little Lords reach middle age.
Little Carmine leads the boys back into the living room, which is dominated by a pair of immense washing-machine boxes. Hmm. I'm beginning to suspect that Little Carmine's interior-decorating skills are even worse than his skills at just about anything else, which is actually saying quite a bit. As the camera lingers lovingly on the [product-placed major appliance manufacturer's] logo, LC announces that these particular machines are "top of the line." Oy. You know what? Look, if these little two-second, throwaway commercials are ultimately the price we have to pay for high-quality televised entertainment, then believe me, I'm all for it. God knows I'd rather see Tony Soprano hawking cell phones than Catherine Zeta-Jones. The unfortunate problem in this case, however is that these commercials are actually NOT the price we have to pay, as my monthly cable bill, three DVD box sets, and Limited Edition Officially Licensed Tony Soprano Terrycloth Bathrobe will attest. So really, HBO just comes off looking fantastically greedy, especially after we just sat through a Season 4 filled with filler solely so that Chase & Co. could stretch out those extra ten episodes they needed to hit syndication. Anyway, Little Carmine announces that one of the machines is a "token" for Jerry, as a reward for his continued allegiance. He then adds that the other one was purchased for his wife. Sigh. What kind of idiot buys a new house with plenty of ugly paintings but no washing machine? Jerry is reluctant to pledge his support firmly to Little Carmine, because he knows that Johnny Sack will be extremely unhappy if he does. Before they can come to any kind of final resolution, however, the Littlest Carmine comes running into the room, screaming that the family boat is sinking. Why? Was it struck by an anvil? Or has Foreshadowing somehow "christened" it with his scythe? Everyone runs out to the dock, where the boat is indeed listing heavily and taking on water. And also medical waste. The boat's name, by the way? "My Funny Valentine." If it were up to me, I probably would have gone with "The Lupertania." Jerry recommends calling the Coast Guard, and then the whole sinking boat subplot disappears forever faster than...well, a sinking boat.