Tony Soprano gives Donnie some friendly advice

Neighborly New Jersey advice

Bedminster, New Jersey

Tony Soprano, chomping on a cigar, is walking down his driveway in his bathrobe to pickup up the Jersey Times when his neighbor calls to him from behind the high wall of shrubs separating their estates . “Tony.”

“Donald!”

“Tony!“

“I see the Feds were here.”

“What Feds? Where? Nothin’s going on here. Nothin’. Those were just old friends. From the phone company. Could have been cable guys. Plumbers. In very nice suits.”

“You think I’m a chooch right off the boat? A stugatz? You are cooked. You’re running out of consiglieres. Everyone’s flipping on you.”

“They got nothin’ on me.”

“Are you boom botz? Donald, word among the capos is you’re a done Don. Obstruction. Conspiracy. Fraud. You jamook cafone! Defrauding the will of the American People? You’re going down, Donald.”

“It’s all Deep State bullshit!”

“Your donors aren’t paying you tribute no more. All your lieutenants and enforcers and Produ Boys are doing time and now they got surveillance footage of you concealing evidence. And how many indictments?”

“I lost count.”

“So I say to you as your neighbor, Donnie, before it’s too late there’s one thing you need to do.”

“What?”

“You ought see a therapist. I see one. She’s good.”

“Is she hot? I like them hot. She your gomatta?”

“No. But,Yeah, Donnie, she’s hot in a sexy librarian kind of way.”

“Breath mint?”

“No, thanks. She’ll help you figure out why you’re such a prick. But you got to be willing to talk.”

“Nope. No way I’m talking. Especially under oath. Do I look stupid to you? Always plead the Fifth. Always. Tony, you should know that. In the old days you’d plead the fifth and keep your mouth shut and do jail time before you’d rat on your capo. Not these days. Everyone’s a snitch and everyone’s wired. They got tapes.”

“That’s the Deep state I’ve been talking about!”

“What? Have you gone completely oobatz? Don’t try that Deep State bullshit on me. You were sloppy and the Feds nailed you. You’re heading for the pen.”

“My mouthpieces can only stall so long. If I can win in November I can pardon myself. And when I’m the boss again I will do things that have never been done before to the people who fucked around with us.”

“They got that on tape, too. You got a big mouth, Donnie.You spent seven years telling your goons how Hillary Clinton’s lawyers destroyed her email servers with bleach like some kind of boom batz idiot and now they caught you on tape telling your crew to destroy your server because it held the surveillance footage the Feds were after. Any Capo would have you whacked for such a dumbass move.”

“My crew will put the screws on my enemies in DC. We’re going to break thumbs. I’m done with weak sisters. The rats and snitches will pay. And the DOJ is going down.”

“Boom botz! You admitted on tape you could not declassify the top secret document you said did not exist! Sloppy, Donnie, sloppy.”

“Criminal evidence of conspiring to overturn the will of the people on January 6th? Over my dead body will you ever hold office ever again.”

“Won’t matter when I’m the Capo de tutti in the Oval Office, Tony.”

“Are you on Lithium? I saw things when I was on Lithium. You’re hearing things. Donnie, you aren’t right in the head.”

“Listen, Tony. I could jam my roscoe in any mug’s button on 5th Avenue and pump lead in his kisser and my voters would still be loyal.”

"You stole war plans! You hid them and lied about them to the FBI!”

“Doesn’t matter, Tony! None of it matters. I will always be their Capo! I got juice, Tony. I was out in the sticks, in Iowa, at some Lincoln Dinner. My competition got booed. Every last one them. Losers. And Christie? That rat blimp is dead to me. May he roast in Hell with that rat bastard Bill Barr.”

“You’re going down, Donnie. I hear your lieutenant Nauta is on tape saying, ‘someone just wants to make sure Carlos de Oliveira is good.’ Sloppy, Mr. Someone.”

“Fuggedaboudit.”

“On the same tape we hear that de Oliveira is loyal and wouldn’t do anything to affect his relationship with you, you boom botz and then you called him to tell him told him you’d get him a consigliere!”

“Hey, how long has this picket fence been here?”

“Long as I can remember. Why?”

“I need to build a wall. A big beautiful wall. The best wall in New Jersey.”

“You’ll probably get house arrest for life. It’s your property.”

“Did you know Luca Brazzi? He would have been great on ‘The Apprentice’. You hear sirens in the distance?”

““Luca Brazzi was the best! You’re from Manhattan, right? Did you know Gotti?

“Mueller was the prosecutor who sent Gotti to Rykers . That sleepy low energy gumshoe tried to bring me down. Did I tell you about the time I got to the New York DA’s Office using my muscle at the Justice Department?”

“I’ll bet you could help me get the Bada Boom into shape.”

“We could serve Trump Steaks and let the girls earn scholarships to Trump University and the seat cushions would all be ‘MyPlillow’ pillow cushions. I hear sirens. Do you hear the sirens? Hey, that’s Melania calling me in for supper. Make New Jersey great again!?

“Donnie! Don. Hey, Donnie. Some cars pulled up in your driveway. Looks like a caravan of Feds. Again. With papers. More indictments?”

“This hood is never heading for the hoosegow. I’m taking cover in the White House. Let them try to arrest the head Capo of the United States of America when I’m America’s boss.”

“You really need to cut back on the lithium and here, Donnie, let me get you some help—“

“I’m going to be President of the United States.”

“And I’m going to be the next head of the Genovese syndicate. Donnie!”

“I’m telling you, Tony, I am going to be President of the United States.”

“More than likely some fanook’s cellmate! The Feds are walking up this way. They want to talk to you. I am out of here, Donnie. Good luck with those fine officers of the law. And hey, do you hear that? More sirens? Get back in the house, Carmela. It’s nothing. Just the Feds picking up some garbage off the street. Some low life two bit tinhorn dictator boom botz.”

Tony Soprano turned and walked back up the driveway, hands in his bathrobe, muttering,” What ever happened to values.”