Janice's house. She's in bed reading The Origin of Satan, and Joey is sitting on the other side of the bed, trimming his toenails. A clipping flies up and hits her in the face, and he jokingly asks if she "caught some shrapnel." Janice gives him the sort of look that Sars often gives me when I make stupid jokes, and I think we all know how withering that can be. Moving on.
It turns out that Meadow isn't in Europe. Instead, she's registering for metaphors. Er, I mean, "classes." Unfortunately, the only one available is "Morality, Self, and Society." She signs her name to the registration form as I nimbly dodge the falling anvils and yell one last "Shut up, Meadow" at the screen (Final ∑ SuM? 28).
Our final scene this week takes place in the Chez Soprano master bath, where Carmela is soaking in a bubble bath while Tony washes his face. He suggests that they start with the estate planning she brought up last week, but Carmela isn't interested. "What, do you feel guilty?" she asks. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. It's me she blames." "For what?" wonders Tony, but Carmela just sighs in response. We go to one of David Chase's patented episode-ending wide shots of the spatial gulf that separates them, and then fade to black on their silence.
John Ritter: So let me get this straight: Tony blames himself for having ordered Jackie Jr.'s death, Carmela blames herself for staying with Tony, and absolutely no one blames Meadow for being a whiny, stuck-up, self-centered brat? How the hell does THAT work?
David Chase: I don't know. How come no one ever blames you for Hooperman?
John Ritter: Ooh. That was a low blow. I mean, it's not like I'm over here talking about Kolchak: The Night Stalker, you know.
David Chase: Get the fuck out. Now.
John Ritter: Jeez. Sore subject, much? And what's up with the "fuck"? You've been spending too much time with Alan lately.