David Chase: Dude. Why not just tell the everyone I'm having a ninety-five pound mole removed from my ass?
Aaron: You gotta admit, you are having a bad week.
David Chase: Eh. What are you gonna do? Really, though. Don't you think the whole "jump the shark" thing has sort of, you know, jumped the shark?
Aaron: Maybe. But no more so than saying "'jump the shark' has jumped the shark" has jumped the shark.
David Chase: That's a good point. But still, would it really kill you to say something positive here in our time of need?
Aaron: Well, I do still like you more than Mike Binder.
David Chase: Shut up and start the recap.
Never one to let a gaping wound fester between friends, I'll begin by pointing out that this week's opening shot of the sign outside Adriana's club, while admittedly somewhat lackluster in execution, is still no less brilliant for all its elegant, meta-clever simplicity. Because -- do you get it? "Crazy Horse"? I'm almost tempted to give that one StTM points. Inside, a band called No Soap Radio (featuring the Ironic Musical Detachment Fairy on lead guitar) wails away on a thematically relevant alterna-rock anthem while Adriana observes from beside the bar. She's shocked and appalled, however, by the unexpected arrival of Tony and Silvio. Flustered by the presence of the big boss (and worried what the FBI might think), she jumps up to greet them with a blatantly feigned enthusiasm. Tony, however, is too busy being proud of his nephew's all-grown-up, non-albino fiancée to care. Taking a seat at the bar, Tony grimaces at the blaring those-kids-today music, but still somehow manages to hear his cell phone ringing from inside his jacket pocket. It's Carmela, and while she pesters him about calling his accountant, the artfully Dutch-angled Paranoia-Cam focuses in on Adriana as she DEKs that he's talking about her. "I said I'll talk to him" morphs into "I'm gonna fuck up her face before I kill her," and then Keith appears with a halo over his head while a baby rocks out on the dance floor behind him. Christopher arrives just as the band finishes playing, and quickly leads Tony and Silvio out towards the back door. Adriana, meanwhile, takes a moment to gratuitously plug the band, and while they're not really my cup of tea, I do have to admit that they at least have one hell of a publicist. The guy even emailed me. Her club owning responsibilities thus discharged, Adriana tentatively follows the boys towards the back room, and arrives just in time to see Furio and Christopher dragging a very frightened Italian man down into the basement. His name -- which gets repeated several times so we'll remember it later -- is apparently Giovanni, but since I can't believe that the mob couldn't find anyplace else in the entire state of New Jersey to beat the crap out of a guy, I've decided to call him Convenianni instead. Adriana sneaks out back into an alleyway, and finds a creatively lit window that's perfectly placed for viewing the violence below. And as Convenianni takes what looks like to be a particularly nasty blow to the head, we slowly push in on Adriana's frightened face. Fade to whi whoops. Damn, that gets to be a habit. Fade to black. And in any case, farewell, Convenianni. Anyone with a hairpiece that bad deserves to get whacked.