Soprano's Swan Song
Celebrating a Deathday™: Guinea garbage hauler, strip club owner and caporegime Anthony John “Tony” Soprano died suddenly on this day, June 17, 2013. He was 51 years old. Like all dago-tee-shirted goombas, Tony was a family man. He and sisters Barbara and psychotic hosebag Janice grew up in the “Down Neck” neighborhood of New Joisey, with their Eye-talian American parents—crew captain “Johnny Boy” Soprano and mother Livia, whom Tony famously declared dead to him during the family’s reality TV saga “The Sopranos. Tony’s reputation was as large as his over-worked heart, even among those who weren’t in possession of a pirated Home Box Office® signal. But before you shed a tear over the loss of this premium-channel spaghetti-twirler, consider that the waste disposal chieftain was, indeed, a real-life mafioso responsible for many deaths during the eight years of his eponymous show. To wit: Soprano shot and killed Willie Overall to become a made man; strangled Fabian Petrulio for ratting out Paulie’s crews; shot and killed Chucky Signore for conspiring with double-crossing uncle Junior to kill Antonio; slew Matthew Belivaqua for attempting to kill 1800 tequila spokesman Christopher Moltisanti; executed Salvador “Big Pussy” Bonpensiero for, let's face it, being a big pussy; bludgeoned Ralphie Cifaretto to death after their horse dealing went the way of all horse dealings; killed Tony Blundetto with a shotgun for the unauthorized hits on Joey Peeps and Billy Retardo; and finally, killing cousin-in-law Christopher for hawking over-priced tequila, one supposes. This isn’t even counting all the hits Soprano ordered or his deviousness as a younger capo before the reality show hit the airwaves. That this misadventurous lap dancee managed to avoid incarceration only to receive a death sentence from the great Joisey prosecutor in the sky? Fuggedaboutit™. ‘Tis the way the cannoli crumbles. Soprano leaves behind his long-suffering nurse wife Jackie, butter-faced daughter Jamie-Lynn Sigler, a punk-ass son whose name escapes me, along with other grieving “family members,” like goomba sidekick Silvio Dante, one-time band mate of another Joisey “Boss.” Happy Anni-hearse-ary™ to Anthony John Soprano, who went to that red gravy restaurant in the sky on this day. As he and his amoral mates would say after polishing off bean-packed bowls of pasta e fagioli, let ‘er RIP.
