mad men

I’m dragging myself back to it again because of this article, despite having thrown up my hands in disgust a few episodes in at what I deemed [and still maintain to be] shitty people leading shitty lives. I don’t really understand what I’m supposed to feel here—relief at not having had to be who I am, back then? Pfft. I knew how good I had it. My parents bothered to tell me how it was. Is the whole point just to make me angry at the way things were, and thus to further my resolve to keep it from going that way again? It’s not going that way, so I don’t see that as a valid point. The Tea Party and its druthers notwithstanding.

Pete Campbell as a character, though, is now more depressing than ever, since the people I know whose lives mirror his have multiplied. Him with his stupid gun as his wife berates him, then feeding with watery eyes these demented hyper testosterone fantasies of killing and cutting and being fed the kill by subservient women…ugh. And his “I like doing things for her” is so spot-on, because people do try to convince themselves that this is what they want. You see it all the time. But you can’t make a tinker out of a trolloc. In this, even my psychosis-ridden dog is superior in intellect. Dress it up as fancily you wish, with blankets and peanut butter and pillows and even meat, it doesn’t matter. She’ll know it for the cage it is and chew her way out, even if she has to shatter her teeth and slash her ears to ribbons doing it.

But Draper and Campbell are desperately trying to convince themselves that their petty purchases and bedroom dalliances make the cage somewhere they’re in power, somewhere they chose and would choose again, if given the chance. Perhaps what they really need to invest are some beagles, who would quickly show them the error of their ways…


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