So, after months and months of waiting, we had the season opener of The Sopranos on HBO this past week. I didn't really get into it until this past month or so, which is surprising since I'm in the tri-state area and its so huge here. Needless to say to those who watch it, its a fantastic show. I'm a bit bias to programs that prominently display fat Italian idiots at their best, since its a world I'm privy to seeing at least twice a year whenever we have a family wedding to go to.
We kick off with Tony taking part in yet another of his little therapy sessions, trying to understand why he is the way he is...
Tony: So doc, I mean, what the fuck? What's wrong with me? Why'm I so fuckin' miserable?
Dr. Melfi: Mr. Soprano...you're 200 pounds overweight. Your wife sounds like the parrot from Froot Loops on helium. Your 'job' consists of ripping off everyone in a 25-mile radius. You've killed more times than you can remember. You're balding. You starred opposite Nicholas Cage in that god awful movie, 8 MM. Everything you do redefines the word 'scum.' Did you really need to pay me 200 dollars an hour to tell you why you're so miserable?
Tony: Well I mean...you know, aside from all that shit.
Dr. Melfi: Okay...hmmm. Well, how are you handling the fact that there's never going to be another episode of Manimal?
Tony: Fucking shit hits me right here.
Dr. Melfi: Well there you go. I'll see you next week.
There isn't much time for personal reflection, since Tony's set to meet his daughter's new friend from college. He hasn't quite met the strict criteria of having a hairy back or knowing what a 'regina' is, so Soprano's none too pleased...
Tony: So, lemme get this straight, butterhead. You're not only black, you're Jewish too?
Noah: Yeah - my parents had this whole rebellious love thing going. See, their parents didn't want them together, and--
Tony: Kid this ain't black history month, shut the fuck up.
Noah: What's your problem?
Tony: My problem? My problem is that I technically should kill you not once, but twice. Can you use some of that nuclear fission shit all you flakes up at college study so I can beat the crap out of your Jew side and your black side separately? Fuck, cocksucker shit piss motherfuckin.
Noah: I take it you want me to stay away from your daughter.
Tony: No kid, I want you to fuck the shit out of my beautiful daughter, and have dozens of cute little babies. That way, when me and my wife are trying to figure out what shade of two-tone marble to make our bathroom walls, I'll just hold one of those little motherfuckers up and see which works out best. Get the fuck out of my face.
Unfortunately, Tony has more important things to worry about than who his daughter's dating. He's met with the impossible task of holding a conversation with a person being played by a dead woman. As daunting as it seems, Tony's survived worse.
Tony: Ma, we gotta talk. When the fuckin flatfoots come to the door there tryin to make deals with you, you don't know shit, got it? Hey, wait a second...what happened to your head?!
Livia: What are you talking about?
Tony: Ma, your head! Its like two times larger than usual...what the fuck is going on?
Livia: ::5 second pause, looking the wrong direction:: I don't like that kind of language, officer!
Tony: Ma what the fuck is wrong with you?
Livia: Nothing's wrong with me, what's wrong with you?
Tony: Oh fuck it. Fuck shit, cocksucker piss douchebag fuck ass. Do whatever you want, I'm sick of this shit.
Those words would come back to haunt him later, since poor Mother Soprano died of a stroke almost immediately following this conversation. Tony won't hear about it for a little while though, since he's currently in another one of his infamous therapy sessions with Dr. Melfi...
Dr. Melfi: ...but why did you get involved with all of that to begin with? Didn't you ever stop and think to yourself...'you know, what I'm doing here is wrong. Maybe I should stop?'
Tony: Listen, I know, I know...iz just that, fuckin business was so slow, you know, economy down and shit. I gotta provide, and sometimes, people gotta do shitty things to provide.
Dr. Melfi: But 8MM was the worst movie ever made! I mean, Mr. Soprano, with all due respect...who in God's name convinced you guys that this movie was worth making? Oooooh, Nicholas Cage is braving the icy world of snuff videos! Jesus! I apologize if I seem a bit rash, but professionally speaking, I think most of your problems stem from there.
Tony: S'a fuckin tragedy, what can I say? I'm a fuckin rat bastard.
Dr. Melfi: Hey, that guy in the movie...the one who helped you get into the snuff scene...didn't he die?
Tony: No, that was his brother.
Dr. Melfi: I hope you had nothing to do with that.
Tony: Like I said, a fuckin' tragedy.
Nobody said the life of a mob boss was easy. But the show must go on, and there's a funeral to attend to. Poor Mother Soprano. Her wake will probably make Guiness for the amount of times people worked the word 'fuck' in to mask their grief. For Tony though, business never ceases...he's got a little side meeting to take care of with the true mob boss, Uncle Junior.
Tony: Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Motherfucking cocksucker?
Uncle Junior: Fucking shit? Cuntrag douchebag fuck piss fuck shit ass. Fuck?
Tony: Shit, but fuck fuck shit fuck cocksucker motherfucker. Comprende?
Uncle Junior: Nozione, but remember...fuck fuck fuck, shit fuck shit.
Tony: Good, then cocksucker fuck ass shit. Have some copacola.
See what I'm saying? These poor mob guys...everyone thinks they're looking for the fast buck, the easy answer. In truth, they've got the most absorbing, draining jobs on the planet. Can't even enjoy a funeral without it being more of that work work work stuff. Adding to Big T's stress is having to deal with all the feigned sorrow from the funeral guests...
Fat Mafia Guy: Hey Tony, sorry to hear about your mudder.
Tony: What are ya gonna do, y'know? These things happen. At least she didn't suffer.
Fat Mafia Guy: If it makes you feel any better, I probably got a good twenty pounds on you.
Sophia: Heh heh heh, I think I get it. Got that whole eating-binge-over-grief thing going, huh? Keep it up, tubbo! Get in all the scungilli while the iron's still hot!
Dorothy: MA!! We're both very sorry to hear about your loss, Mr. Soprano. You have our condolences.
Sophia: Please! The old woman makes having sex with rabid raccoons seem like a day spent eating ice cream at the beach. The old bat was a cuntrag.
Tony: Exactly what the fuck are you getting at?
Sophia: What is this, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? I'm not your lifeline, Soprano. Come on Dorothy, let's go upstairs. Someone told me Mister Burt Reynolds is somewhere in this house.
Dorothy: Again, Mr. Soprano, we're very sorry for your loss.
Tony: S'a fuckin tragedy...whaddyagonna do, y'know?
Continuing on, Tony's gold digging sister attempts to maintain a PC stance by making the funeral that much more painful...
Janice: At this time, I'd like to take the focus off my Rolling Stones tattoo and ask if anyone here would like to share some of their favorite memories about the woman we've come here today to celebrate. I've also came up with a pretty sweet title for this exercise....Lovin' The Livia. Carmella, honey, why don't you go first?
Carmella: Well Christ, this is the woman who served as mayor The Naked Gun - she obviously had some serious talent, right?
Janice: Carmella, you're doing that whole...you know, wrongful series crossover thing again.
Carmella: Well what the fuck do you expect, fatty? 45 minutes ago I was wearing a police uniform on the set of Oz. Way to give us a suitable period of grieving time. Fine, fine. Ummm...Ms. Soprano...my mother-in-law...she was a good woman because ah...hmmm...well, she never seemed too contrary to me taking tennis lessons. That was pretty cool of her.
Janice: Thank you very much, Carmella. Now, would it be possible for us to hear from some old guy I can't remember ever seeing before?
Some Guy: SHE RUINED MY CHRISTMAS!
A day in the life of Tony Soprano, the wonders never cease. Finally, with the funeral over, the night upon him, and his annoying wife asleep, Tony can relax and catch his favorite show while remembering, with fondness, the love for his mother he never quite realized he had.
Tony: Christ, that Rock really knows how to cut a promo. If he wasn't black, I could let him live. Oh well, anudder fuckin tragedy.
Tune in next week!
Worst part is, this is barely a parody. Still a great show though. Pay your respects to the late Nancy Marchand by checking out her oddly vast array of television and movie appearances by clicking here.