Melfi wants to focus "more on your immediate family." Tony responds that his wife and his daughter don't get along so well lately. Yeah, like it's possible to get along with Meadow, period. ["Word. It's a wonder she's even managed to hang on to Ugly Friend." -- Wing Chun]

In front of the TV at the Sopranos', Father Phil raves about laserdiscs. Shut up, Father Phil. Carmela sits down with a bowl of popcorn and says that Tony watches Godfather II all the time. After the obligatory reference to the suckiness of Godfather III, Father Phil asks, "Where does Tony rank Goodfellas?" Before Carmela can answer, she hears a whomping sound from outside. Father Phil wonders about raccoons, but Carmela murmurs, "Somebody's jimmying a window," and Father Phil wonders aloud who would break into the Sopranos' house with all the security lights they have, only to squawk "jeez Louise!" when Carmela pulls a big old automatic rifle out of a closet and clicks off the safety. Carmela storms outside and snarls, "Hold it!" at the intruder. It's Meadow, who tries to float a fib about noticing the window rattling, "do we have any putty" blah blah blah Carmela "don't give me that" blah blah blah Meadow bitches at AJ for locking the window on purpose so she'd get caught (if that's the case, well, go AJ) blah blah blah sneaking-out-cakes. Carmela rips into Meadow for "lying and conniving." Meadow's excuse: "Yeah, I know I'm grounded, but Patrick's swim meet is tomorrow, and he needed me!" Oh, man -- how perfectly, quintessentially high-school. Carmela tells her no, she's not just grounded: "You're not going to Aspen with Hunter Scangarelo [Ugly Friend], that's where you're not going!" She stomps back into the house as Meadow's face begins to arrange itself into its customary sneering pout. Right before we cut away, we hear AJ exult, "Yes!" Bwa!

Back to Tony, saying that that "shit" will "all blow over." Melfi asks whether Tony didn't admit to Dr. Cusamano that he'd been feeling depressed. Tony shoots her a look, looks away at her MD diploma from Tufts, then looks back at her and asks, "What part of the boot you from, hon?" Patiently, she answers him. Evidently, their families come from the same part of Italy; Tony grins that his mother "would have loved it if you and I got together." Melfi smiles politely and doesn't respond for a minute. When she does speak, she tells him gently that anxiety attacks constitute legitimate psychiatric emergencies: "Suppose you were driving and you passed out?" Tony interrupts her with a rant about how everybody goes to counselors and on talk shows to talk about their problems; he wants to know whatever happened to Gary Cooper, "the strong, silent type -- that was an American," Gary Cooper didn't get in touch with his feelings, "he just did what he had to do," on and on, winding up with "dysfunction this and dysfunction that and dysfunction va fa culo [basically, 'up the ass']!" Melfi is taken aback, but confines herself to "you have strong feelings about this." Tony goes on some more about how he "gets" therapy theoretically ("I have a semester and a half of college"), and yeah, he could be happier ("who couldn't?"), but he still doesn't truck with psychotherapy. Melfi, flatly: "Do you feel depressed?" No response. She asks again. Tony, reluctantly: "Since the ducks left. I guess." "The ducks that preceded your losing consciousness. Let's talk about them," Melfi murmurs, pleased to have made a breakthrough. Not so fast -- Tony glares at her, breathing heavily, then gets up and stalks out of the room. Melfi folds her hands behind her head.