In Which I Don't Think You've Done It Before This Way

Doesn't That Mean Anything To A Person Like You?

by ELEANOR MORROW

I do believe in a fate that will fall on us if we do nothing.

— Ronald Reagan

Never trust anyone who takes politics seriously. An old friend and I had a falling out recently. She's the sort who takes every happening as an omen or some call to greater purpose. Now she reminds me of Don Draper, for whom a vibrant women sweating in the wee hours in the morning is a signal from the Gods.

Coincidences are everywhere. A world without them would be stranger than a world in which our perceptions, shaped by our innate desires, seem an oracle for our own behavior, and the future of a nation.

The irony of "I have a dream" is that he had no such dream. He had a wish, a desire, and helped turn it into fate. Don Draper is the same man, his wife isn't so different. She writes in the same flowing lefty script as our president - like him and Conrad Hilton, the plan is to bring America to the world whether they like it or not. Under their purview, the wants and desires of others mean nothing.

Our own will becomes immaterial in such matters. A greater concern takes over: the repressed or overt desire of how one wishing to dominate another. It's fun to see Don so oppressed by another, so subject to the wishes of a man exactly like himself.

the actual conrad hilton This is the Mad Men obsession, titling the show Various Rapes of the 1960s Period would be more honest. Matthew Weiner is consumed with lording his superiority over others (even his own writers), and yet he wants to show dominance in a light beyond the mere threat of violence, the subject of The Sopranos. This is men and women as lords, more royalty than any English court, summoning and unsummoning themselves until everything is in the exact right position from its opposite.

This is politics, not life. Politics is gross opposition and summary, not substance. Real life, on the other hand, consists of men who believe they're ordained pronouncing their own personal moralities on others. They achieve nothing in particular except to scare the most decent among us into submission.

But these are minor foibles of lesser men. You're only really taking fate into your own hands for sure if you sex Don Draper's wife. You have to be one fucked up little bursar to attempt that trick. And if you can't close off that, you deserve the blue-balled result. When you concoct a plan whereby Don Draper's wife comes to bang you at your office, you don't have to be Tucker Max to seal the deal.

"You had to come to me," says Betty's graying little fuck puppet. Adulterers have such entertaining moralities. Many of them still lecture us on what we should be. To watch the honest, decent people crushed under this morass is difficult business, and this might be why Mad Men isn't wildly popular among the regular people like The Sopranos was. They see enough injustice on the news.

Now we are simply waiting for these indiscretions to come to light. Betty dances at the periphery of our visions - the most likely way for the subplot of her affair to be resolved is by her on the floor of City Hall, realizing she's not exactly sure what impulse she has surrended to. Destroyed by a fleeting vision of his own personal God, Sal tries to surrender to as many impulses as he can in the Central Park gay scene.

As Sal weeps in his office among his art, he blames himself and his own churlish nature for the unlucky result. Perhaps he curses the fates, nevermind that. Power is transient, fleeting - as a smarter one than Don once said, "you can't take it with you."

The obsession with smoking permeates the milieu. It is Mad Men's recurring cameo, the cigarette, always a joke to represent both the innocence and the impurity of the age. Don marvels at how naive (or stupid) his schoolteacher crush is for making her students read the words of Martin Luther King Jr. We recognize it is he who is either innocent or stupid. He believes that the way he acts is other than the mere caprice. He believes his life is art. He is wrong.

Eleanor Morrow is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in Manhattan. She tumbls here.

"First Chance" - David Gray (mp3)

"Breathe" - David Gray (mp3)

"Nemesis" - David Gray (mp3)

In Which We Drink the Clean Draught of Mad Men

Dark Waters

by ALMIE ROSE

Male. Female. Shallow. Deep. Lie. Truth. These are some of the conflicting themes boldly represented in last night's tonight's episode of Mad Men.

Mad Men is like a John Updike piece and a New Yorker cartoon formatted into a television show. It's not so much a television show as it is a culturally significant piece of art that I am lucky to bear witness to.

In these episodes we witness the eternal struggle between the opposites listed in the aforementioned lines. We watch as Pete tries to balance being a boy with being a borderline rapist. When Pete's wife goes out of town the first thing young Pete does is remove his shirt and tie all in one fell swoop. Pete's shirtlessness speaks volumes about nudity in madmen. Or the lack thereof. Which reminds me of something Kafka once said, but as viewers of Mad Men, I'm sure I don't need to tell you what.

As we watch young Pete grapple with the tower of responsibility we see Betty trying to climb a similar Jenga tower of her own; the one of womanhood. Betty and her female cohorts try to save the reservoir but Betty decides to enlist the help of a craggy looking man of political power. The question is, does Betty save the day, or does Betty's male friend save the day? Water, like gender, is a complex issue.

Don's shirt is white.

Pete's comely German neighbor stains a pink poofy dress, a garment that Pete is all too quick to sweep off of her hands. Pete, the man-child who was previously watching cartoons while eating cereal on the couch, is now trying to juggle the delicate and complex dynamic of gender issues. He wanders like a lost soul, or a poet, in the female clothing department. ("Republic of Dresses" as he refers to it, in his crisp and manly manner.)

Notice how he bows again to Joan who is always taking on the role of the eternal grandmother. Thus Pete is able to return from the department store not with a Chip N Dip, not with a rifle, but with an evening gown. This speaks volumes about the roles of men and women in the 1960s and foreshadows the women's movement. But then Pete basically rapes his female neighbor.

Betty is tackling a similar gender bend in which she tries to navigate the male dominated field of politics. She does so by kissing her reservoir savior. Later she and unknowing husband Don have the following exchange about something completely unrelated:

DON: "That's real politics."
BETTY: "Well you know, when you don't have any real power, you have to delay things."

Oh we know, Betty. We know, but can the women's movement be delayed? No, it cannot. The times are a-changing and a magic bus is pulling into its stop. All aboard the magical mystery tour and get off of my cloud. Betty's suit is pink. I think we all know what that means.

When even hinted at infidelity by Pete's starry-eyed wife, much like Lot's Wife, she falls into a pillar of Salt when Pete stumbles and in silence, confesses what his guilt cannot say. In this way, Pete's silence speaks volumes about his infidelity.

Trudy made a variety of cold salads.

And what of Betty's exterior compared to her interior? Betty's hairdo is exquisite. It's like sculpture, much like the fine city of Rome in which she is vacationing. In this way her hair echoes her suroundings, reminding us that Betty is always in style. "You think because of the way I'm dressed I'm shallow?" she asks Don, harkening back to the ever present reservoir theme. When Don later undresses her, we see that Betty is thin, but her hair is fat. This speaks volumes about the 1960s in so many ways. At least four.

They say that still waters run deep. But no water is still in Mad Men. These are churning waters rife with strife. These are waters that cannot be filtered into a reservoir, for no matter how many times you purify the waters of Mad Men, they will never be clean enough to quench your thirst. Bottled water is better for that.

Almie Rose is the contributing editor to This Recording. She is a writer living in Los Angeles. She blogs here, and she twitters here. She last wrote in these pages with tips for gentlemen.

"Where or When" - Diana Krall (mp3)

"I'll Hang My Tears Out To Dry" - Diana Krall (mp3)

"Too Marvelous for Words" - Diana Krall (mp3)

In Which Never Go With A Hippie To A Second Location

Who Knew Duck Had It In Him?

by MOLLY LAMBERT

Oh shit flashbacks? Mad Men is getting LOST up in this bitch. What's next, smoke monsters? Polar bears? Alternate histories? What if Chauncey the dog never really did run away? What if he's actually the new head of Sterling-Cooper? Then they could change the title of the show to Mad Dogs And Englishmen. 

Let's be honest. Peggy only fucked Duck because Don negged her. Haven't we all done this? Transferred the neg from the person we actually like onto whoever happens to be around? Jeez though Peggy, just because you're being a slut doesn't mean you have to fuck everybody. I mean, it's Duck. He's gross and terrible, even if he does want to tear your clothes off with his teeth. He makes Pete Campbell look like a sensible choice.

He likes the smell of liquor on your breath. Run away Peggy! Run away!

Duck Phillips is a slimy creeper. Don doesn't read the bible. Betty is a child. Joan is MIA. I am starting to relate most to Bert Cooper. That guy knows what the fuck is up.

                                  "Thass wassup!"

What are you going to be doing three years from now? Three years ago, what did you think you'd be doing now? If you want to retain personal independence and ultimate freedom, you better not let your boss know about your secret identity. Maybe it's because if you start thinking further than a week down the road it makes it a lot harder to justify boinking the hot elementary school teacher.

             This is not Californication, Don! There are rules!

"They want me, but they can't have me," says Don. Don only knows what it's like to be wanted. His life is filled with stewardesses, Jewesses, Greenwich Village poetesses, and sundry other tang. Don Draper has never woken up next to a bad decision. Even his mistakes (Bobbie Barrett) don't seem to bother him very much. Don cannot possibly understand how Peggy feels about a number of things. 

Some people get mad at Mad Men for being too oblique, setting up scenes that are shot suspensefully, as if something might go one way, and then it goes entirely another. This was also some people's criticism of There Will Be Blood, one I never agreed with. I'm not sure what to call this genre. Post-suspense?

We are often shown guns that never go off, usually to distract us from the unforseen ones that eventually do. Mad Men is full of red herrings and dead ends. In that respect it reminds me of the work of Paul Auster. However, two characters that seemed to serve no purpose initially, Henry Francis and Conrad Hilton, have both turned up.

Matthew Wiener has learned from David Chase the extreme comedic value of objects. The fainting chaise that Betty has now made the hideous new centerpiece of the hearth is a gag, of sorts. The lawnmower last week was an excellent gag. Sopranos objects of value that I recall are Gloria Trillo's steak, the Russian's leg, and Big Mouth Billy Bass. A well placed object can be poignant and funny instead of theatrically "symbolic."

Like the ghost of your father in a rocking chair with a jar of hillbilly moonshine?

Molly Lambert is the managing editor of This Recording. She tumbls here.