What about that "Sopranos" episode?

I missed it when I was on the radio with Lisa Lampanelli, playing "Guess My Ethnicity" for free tickets to her show at the Canyon Club this Thursday, but when I got home from KLSX I fired it up.

I’ve got to tell you.  I think they’re chewing the scenery a bit now.  That bit with the rappers in the hospital?  BULLSHIT!  Kind of reminds me of the last season of "L.A. Law".  When Stuart got caught in the riots.  I almost want to stop watching, it’s sacrilegious, kind of like the episodes of "Seinfeld" after Larry David left, but then just when I’m wincing, they get certain things right and I get that jolt in my chest and say to myself THIS IS IT!

Oh, the loneliness of Vito in New Hampshire.  God did they get that right.  You’re so busy.  And then you’re off alone and time seems ENDLESS!

But even more important was Meadow’s conversation with Finn.  I tell you, Meadow is Michael in "The Godfather".  She’s gonna take over the family.  She’s the only one with a brain.  Does that make AJ Fredo?  Interesting question.

But the kicker, the absolute killer, was when Tony came down to breakfast when the girls were debating Vito’s playing for the other team.  THAT’S why I continue to watch.  As lame as the show can be, as ridiculous as it is for Dr. Melfi to give Tony the green light to beat up his driver, James Gandolfini is poetry in motion.  The Jack Nicholson of his day, without the wink to the audience.  You BELIEVE he’s Tony Soprano.  And his character is CONSTANTLY being fleshed out.  He’s being put in context.  Where he’s come from, who he is.  Like at this very moment, when he crosses the linoleum in the kitchen and sings "Sitting on a park bench…"  God, don’t YOU blurt out little snippets of lyrics at the oddest moments?  Tony is us.  Someone who grew up in the greatest country in the world who can no longer make sense of it so he keeps on doing what he’s doing, however fucked up that may be.

Monday afternoon we flew to Denver.  I ask you, are the seats getting closer together on these planes?  Shit, I’ve got to fly to D.C. next week coach and I’m ALREADY panicking.  I mean I’m no giant, and I’VE got no leg room.

And then there was that one moment…

Have you ever flown into Denver?  You see there’s this wind condition.  Where the Rockies meet the plains.  You get turbulence the likes of which I’ve never seen.  Well, except for once, three years ago, when I was caught in a tornado.  I’m just sitting there in the back of the plane, reading the L.A. "Times" and WHOOPS!  The fucking bottom drops out.  If you EVER fly without the fucking seatbelt on I’m here to tell you you’re a FOOL!  My head would have hit the ceiling.  The plane dropped like in a disaster movie.  And bounced around.  I stuffed my papers in a bag and stared straight ahead, ready to endure a thrill ride the likes of which they don’t have at Six Flags.

Boy was it bumpy.  Felice was squeezing the blood out of my hand.  And when we finally hit the tarmac, I was sure the plane was gonna flip right over.  That’s how badly it jerked from side to side.

But it was summer in Denver.  Eighty five degrees.

And when we got to Vail it was still light, and 55.

It was so EERIE!  There was nobody HERE!  The ski shops had no inventory.  Some of the restaurants are closed.  It’s kind of like being at the aforementioned amusement park on a day off.

And then this morning, as we were hooking our tickets to our jackets, FREE, courtesy of Tom Fricke, PD of Krystal 93, here in Vail, it started to SNOW!

Now I’m not talking flurries.  I’m talking DUMP!  It’s April 18th, and by time we get to the top of the Vista Bahn, we’re COVERED in the white stuff.

And the Mountain Top Express was so brutal, the snow stinging our faces, that we went over to Lion’s Head, to ride the gondola.

Now the bottom half of the mountain is a bit funky.  You see it’s frozen solid under the few inches of snow.  So, when the sun came out briefly, and the snow went intermittent, we went back up to Avanti to ski the POW!

Yup, you’ve got it.  It’s halfway to May and I’m there in my powder suit, we’re cutting eights in the fluff.  Outfuckingrageous.

And the very last run of the day, down Berries, in the sweet crud, flinging my skis from side to side, you guessed it, I started singing AQUALUNG!