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Hamm-ing it up!

The other day I was discussing the super-duper-critically acclaimed show Mad Men with a friend. He was the first person who I have met that said that they didn’t like it. I just couldn’t grasp that idea! I mean, c’mon…everyone likes Mad Men, right?!?!

His reasoning was that its take on the 50s was so utterly ridiculous, especially with the continuing idea that, at every single turn, ALL women were regarded as idiotic playthings who have no thoughts, feelings or ideas whatsoever and, when they did get some, it was treated with equal parts jaw-dropping aplomb and dismissive anger and resentment. Maybe an Old Fashioned or ten. And, as I watched season two of this lauded show, that was all I could see. It was on the verge of being completely ruined for me. Thanks, dude!

Don’t get me wrong, though: Mad Men is a very entertaining show, and I do enjoy every single stupid episode of it. But…now it is so hard to watch it now without seeing the underlying, subtle agenda that is not-so-hidden in-between the lines. The first season was concocted to make us envy the life of Don Draper: a WW2 veteran who, to escape his previous life, took on the identity of a dead soldier, makes his way into the big leagues, becoming a top dog at a New York City ad firm while remorselessly banging every single piece of ass 1950s plus-sized ass that waddles his way. It’s the life I have always dreamed of! It’s the life I’ll always dream of!

In season two, however, one by one, every single thread of Draper’s existence is slowly being shredded, as if for fun. As if to get sadistic glee as he struggles and asphyxiates. The writers of the show are trying so desperately to destroy this man, trying to have his world implode, from his wife finding out about his sexy affairs and kicking him out to sending him on bizarre jaunts to California or, and this was the worse, seeking out people from his past to come to terms with things, typically by crying. Really? I liked Don Draper because he is the man that I wish more men would be these days: a no-nonsense, hold in your feelings, never EVER cry, square-jawed, wife cheatin’, hard drinkin’ man’s man! The type of men that the Goddamned 60s killed off!

Season two is trying it’s damnedest to change all that. But why? Why mess with this proven success? Why mess with the soon-to-be iconic character?

And then it hit me: after a little research, I figured out that most of the writers on the show are…big reveal…women! Of course! Who else would want to see this guy destroyed more than women writers with a penis-sized chip on their shoulder and a degree in feminist studies from NYU? Pass the ammo and that subscription to Bust! Use that anger to kill off everything that represents the intense hate you feel for the man of the quaint past that only lived to subjugate your mothers! MUST DESTROY DON DRAPER!

On the extreme opposite side though: casting directors, thank you so much for bringing Christina Hendricks into my life. Nothing has been the same since and I don’t think anything ever will. I owe you two.

What was I talking about…oh, right, the DVD. Yes, regardless of all the politics, go buy it. All thirteen episodes are here, as well as special features such as commentaries, a mini-doc about the influence of 60s fashion on today, little “time capsule” of historic events of the time and…big reveal…a two-part mini-doc called “Birth of an Independent Woman”. SEE YOU IN HELL, DRAPER!

Season three is on the air, right now, as I type this, but I don’t have cable so, season three will have to wait for me until, what? Next year? I’ll be avoiding all the spoilers and be first in line to buy it on DVD. One piece of advice…kill off the sniveling Pete, please, but, c’mon, ladies: let Don Draper be a man, man! Please have him flush out all of this emotional lunacy and quit all this crying, grab a Scotch (or ten) and punch himself in the scrotum just to feel alive once more. I know I will.

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