Sporadic Commentary: The Dangers of Mad Men

For all the obvious reasons I should be in love with the original AMC series Mad Men. It has sharp witty dialog, set design to die for and all over aesthetic that proves mass entertainment can be fulfilling on so many levels besides just passing the time in front of the tube.

I watched the first couple episodes and was very impressed but not as much as the husband who has gone on to form some sort of bond with the show. A strange and disturbing one. It's been well publicized that the show takes place in the (I hope very) fictionalized world New York advertising during the early 1960s when men were men and women were gals and everyone knew their place with white guys being at the very top.

Everything about those times is almost fetishized, from the really bad suburban food, the constant smoking of cigarettes to how the little lady would have dinner waiting after the man of the house came home via commuter train after drinking and waving his pecker around all day in the city.

I've stopped actively watching the show but will sometimes wander in while the husband is glued to the massive TV, skipping back here and there to make out some piece of dialog. When ever I don't feel like hearing myself chatter on about something I ask the husband what's up with the show and he'll go on and on about the nuanced plot points that have stuck a particular cord with him.

It's pretty obvious to me (and him) why he likes this show. It's the last great stand of the white American male before things went kahblewie! for them all, what with women's rights, the pill, civil rights marches and women discovering that it wasn't necessarily their fault they weren't having orgasms. But that was a few years away for the people on this show.

Life, at least on the surface, was much more simple for the men of Mad Men. Never mind that their lungs were turning black with cancer from all the smoking. At least they looked real manly while doing it.

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