He was, and remains, the perfect gangster. Unlike the cerebral Tony or the princely John Sacramoni, Paulie never wanted the throne. He didn’t have the imagination for grand strategy or the patience for diplomacy. Paulie was a creature of the street. He rose through the ranks not through bloodlines (he was, as a hilarious subplot reveals, a "whoo-ah’s" son), but through sheer, terrifying brutality.
In the end, Paulie Gualtieri is the ultimate allegory for the American mob. He is loud, cheap, violent, sentimental, and ultimately, hollow. He has no children to carry on his name. He has no wife to mourn him. He has only the memory of the pork store and the faint echo of his own cackle. Paulie
When he sees the Virgin Mary at the Bada Bing (dancing alongside the strippers, no less), he doesn't have a spiritual awakening; he has a panic attack. When he dreams of "those two guys" (the ghosts of his victims), he refuses to sleep alone. This paranoia is not a joke; it is the crack in his armor. It suggests that deep down, beneath the gold chains and the murderous rage, Paulie is terrified of the ledger he has written in blood. He was, and remains, the perfect gangster
He is the only character who seems to realize that the life he leads has cosmic consequences. He just doesn't care enough to change his behavior. The final gift of The Sopranos is Paulie’s survival. In the cut-to-black finale, while we don’t know if Tony lives or dies, we know exactly where Paulie is. He is sitting in the back office of Satriale’s, alone, a stray cat on the step, looking at a future of empty chairs. Paulie was a creature of the street