This isn't going to be a big "I hate Betty Draper" screed. I agree with my co-blogger Tami, who, in September, wrote in a piece called "Sexism Makes Me Hate Betty Draper:"

The character of Betty Draper, who was fresh and hopeful in season one, is now nervous with periodically shaking hands. She is withdrawn, bitter and cold. She is alternately dismissive and cruel to her children (particularly her daughter), her friends and other family members. She is unhappy and the world knows it. Personal misery can make for an unpleasant personality.

I understand why Betty is the way she is. She was molded by her family and a society that viewed women like her as dolls not living, breathing women with needs and desires. In Sunday's episode, Betty's father Gene hints several times that he, too, didn't know what kind of person he was raising. He mentions that Betty is nothing like her independent mother, his wife, who was working when he first met her. He frets that he shielded Betty from too many things, raised her to be a princess—"Scarlett O'Hara" he calls her. After he tries to discuss his final wishes with his daughter, she huffs: (paraphrasing) I know it must be hard for you to face whatever it is your facing, but can't you keep it to yourself? It's selfish and morbid for you to talk to me about it. I'm your little girl! Later, Gene tells his grandaughter, Betty's child, that she can be whatever she wants to be..."no matter what your mother says." It is likely a message he never gave his "little girl" Betty. Nor does it seem he encouraged his wife's independent streak, as there is no mention of her working after they married. [...]

A commenter named Lgreer28 on Television Without Pity asked just this question to the Betty haters:

I find it amazing that people are always pointing out Betty's immaturity, while ignoring the immaturity of the other characters. Why do they expect her to be the perfect parent? Why is it that her flaws are not tolerated, yet the flaws of the other characters are? Why do they constantly complain about Betty's flaws and ignore Don's? Why do they ignore the fact that Don is no more a perfect parent than Betty? Why do they ignore his own immaturity or his tendencies to indulge in his own illusions?

Indeed. Betty is a bad mother, but "Mad Men" is riddled with bad fathers. Betty is selfish, but not nearly as selfish as her errant husband. As for my beef, Betty hardly created the hierarchy of race and femininity that strangles her and all of the other women on the show—black ones, included. There is scarcely a man on the show who hasn't committed Betty's "crimes" and much more and who isn't 10 times more responsible for perpetuating the inequities of the time. Yet, she is the person that gets all of our hate, which maybe proves that when it comes to sexism, we aren't so much more enlightened than folks were in Betty's day. We tut and gasp over the biased treatment of women on "Mad Men." "My God, I'm so glad things are different today!" But as we analyze the show and its characters with our 21st century eyes, a woman is still judged more harshly than a man for similar infractions. We've laid aside the mid-day gin at the office, the skinny ties and girdles. But it seems that, in some ways, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

In addition to Tami's take, Amanda Marcotte writes about the ire of some conservatives that so much focus is given to Betty's unhappiness:

Oh, I can't imagine what it must be like to be a social conservative invested in that show. You must flinch every time Betty walks onscreen, looking pained, bored, and miserable. That she herself is a petulant brat doesn't make up for that, because the show is making the point that oppression isn't suddenly right because the oppressed aren't perfect people. And the show implies that certain ugly character traits are the result of oppressive systems, that Betty Draper is a miserable person because she's been turned into one. How dare the show suggest that bitchy women might be more pleasant if they weren't treated like second class citizens? And so [Benjamin Schwartz, writing for the Atlantic] gave you an out: Betty's character makes you uncomfortable because it's not realistic, and January Jones is a bad actress, and women in the 50s were never bored because being someone's sex-and-domestic appliance is what every woman really wants! It's not you, it's January Jones and the evils of feminism. [...]

And really, Schwartz's contempt for the character and his scapegoating of the actress—-and especially the applause he got from social conservatives for it—-shows the underlying contempt for women in the paternalistic platitudes about how women were happier when being a housewife was mandatory. Dreher's being upfront about it. Asking us to spend time on the feelings and thoughts and fantasies of Betty Draper is boring, because the whole point of wives is that they're in the background, making it possible for the real actors—-mostly men—-to make things happen.

The conservative reaction to the Draper marriage shows exactly how effective that storyline is in making its point. A lot of liberals, I've found, are bored with Betty for another reason entirely. They can't understand why she doesn't just pick up and leave already, if she's so unhappy. We're on the other side of it—-so feminist that it's hard to wrap our minds around the psychology of someone who isn't. But conservatives flip the fuck out, get defensive and start scapegoating January Jones, going so far as to argue that her dull affect is evidence that she can't act, when in fact it's evidence that the actress is being fearless in her portrayal of someone whose entire personality has been flattened out by boredom.

I have to admit that part of the Betty hatred comes from the fact that I can empathize with Carla. Betty is, as Tami explains, "the embodiment of pre-Feminine Mystique, upper-middle class, white womanhood." It's part of the same reason I also hate Pete Campbell.

But more than that, there is another element at play. More than just Betty's character flaws, what makes her unwatchable is the painful lack of an inner life.

As I wrote about the fate of minorities on the series in season one, the third season has been categorized by stripping away at the inner lives of all the women on the show, Betty most markedly. Betty, from seasons one and two, had a strong inner life outside of Don. Even while she was confused as to the general reason for her shakes and malaise, she was curious and introspective. She maintained arm's length relationships with other women, but still revealed much of herself. On occasion, she acted out of character, expressing her protective streak by shooting the neighbor's birds, or when she decided to take out her aggression sexually, using a sexy stranger.

For most of season three, Betty's been pouty and insolent. The shades of insight into her motivations and personality have generally vanished, as Betty is mainly used to help advance the plot, at the expense of her own development. (Weiner, in an interview with the Daily Beast today, appears to view her childlike nature as key to her character.) Now, again, this isn't unique to Betty - Peggy and Joan also lost their inner lives this season, appearing mostly in the context of the men they were involved with (romantically or professionally).

But watching Betty go through the motions of finding out Don's secret and falling for another man while stripped of her inner life was something like watching her die a slow, painful death. Gone are the casual conversations with Francine, just hurried discussions about the reservoir. The look into the inner workings of Betty Draper achieved with the psychiatrist are a memory. Without her inner life providing insights to her behavior, we are left with a direct reading of Betty: spoiled, selfish, cruel. The only time a glimpse of the season one and two Betty surfaces is during her finale fight with Don, his careful facade smashed to pieces. They attack each other, brutally, Don focusing in on their class differences and Betty dredging up the scorn, confusion, and anger that's plagued her for the last three years:

In the end, Betty flies off to Reno, leaving behind the suburbs, the failed marriage, and the lingering doubts of her own sanity. She's moving forward with a man she doesn't know, in order to escape another man she doesn't know. Fitting, really.

So while I hate Betty, I kind of can't help to see her for who she is - a flawed, miserable person stuck in an increasingly desperate gilded cage. The marriage was already poisoning the two children - having it end will probably be for the best. Perhaps Betty's story line could have been salvaged. Perhaps Matthew Weiner could have humanized her more, given her more space to experience grief and rage before she got the upper hand by finding Dick Whitman's box of secrets. Perhaps then, instead of being a tangle of privilege and petulance, Betty Draper would have been seen as a woman in an impossible position, seeking a savior, instead of looking like an opportunist.

But either way, it's over. The Draper family is dead. Long live the Drapers.

Related: Sexism Makes Me Hate Betty Draper [What Tami Said]
Why Does Betty Draper Have To Make Wingnuts Feel Guilty? [Pandagon]
"Fuck Pete Campbell!": Mediations On Mad Men And Whiteness [Racialicious]
Why "Mad Men" Is Afraid Of Race [Double X]
On Mad Men And Race [Racialicious]
"Shoot" Wins ADG, Matt Weiner's Visions, Birds [Basket of Kisses]

After an entire season of having his sleep interrupted by Betty, the baby, and Conrad Hilton, Don finally had to wake himself up. This seemed to be one of the themes of this episode, as Don put all his effort into to saving Sterling Cooper, and came to terms with the fact that he couldn't do the same for his failed marriage.


When his relationship with Connie was severed after the news that Sterling Cooper and its parent company were being sold, Don was justifiably bitter, saying, "You come and go as you please, and you don't care that my future is tied up in this mess because of you." It's ironic that it completely escapes Don that he just verbalized exactly how Betty feels about their marriage.

Connie replies, "I've got everything I have on my own. It's made me immune to those who complain and cry because they can't. I didn't take you as one of them, Don. Are you?" He's not. And Connie's speech was the horse kick in the head Don needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and start feeling empowered as a man who is actually in control of his own destiny.

Like Connie, Don is immune to those who "complain and cry" at the idea that they don't have something of their own—namely, Betty.


But unlike Connie—who took a shine to Don because he saw a piece of himself in the creative genius—Don, at times, resents in others what he does himself. Seriously though, didn't you reflexively rubberneck and think, "Who you callin' a whore?" It isn't even a pot/kettle situation: Betty hasn't even consummated her relationship with Henry Francis yet. (And yes, she did fuck that guy in that bar that one time, but her extramarital bedpost is still relatively intact compared to Don's, which has been whittled down to a toothpick at this point.)

More ridiculous was Don's insistence that Betty should see a doctor because she hasn't been "herself". The fact of the matter is that she hasn't been herself during the entire marriage—and possibly for her entire life. She's been the woman she was told she should be. The change Don has seen is evidence that she's actually been getting in touch with herself and her wants and her needs, and she's realizing that Don doesn't fulfill them. She was right when she said she deserved more.


But Don was right, too. Betty built herself a life raft in order to jump ship from her marriage. Don wasn't exactly the whole problem—depending on him to make her happy was. And now she's going to depend on Henry. Will she have to go through a second divorce to realize that what she wanted and needed was independence?


Which brings us to Peggy. Earlier, Roger told Don, "You're not good at relationships because you don't value them." Don's relationship with Peggy in this episode mirrored that of his relationship with Betty. He doesn't ask, he just assumes that she'll follow him around "like a nervous poodle," and everyone thinks he does all her work, even him. He's taken her for granted, saying, "There's not one thing that you've done here that I couldn't live without." She lets him know that she's had other offers—just like Betty.


But unlike his interactions with Betty, Don tries hard to win Peggy back. Like many people, Don subconsciously places more importance on the work that Peggy does more than the work of a housewife. It's interesting how in every scene in his office, Peggy always sat on the right, and Don—in the power position—on the left. Now their roles are reversed. And he says everything to Peggy that he should've been saying to his wife, like, "I've been hard on you, but only because I think I see you as an extension of myself. And you're not."

Perhaps Don took Roger's comment about valuing relationships to heart, because he stresses to Peggy, Pete, Lane, and Roger how indispensable they each are. He seems to know exactly what to say to everyone to make them feel valuable—except for his own estranged wife.


Or his children, for that matter. Although he does try.


Still, his efforts are paying off in some ways. Peggy needed that validation from Don, and now she's sure of her worth—and it doesn't involve fetching coffee for Roger.


Joan—and Roger—however, always knew exactly how valuable she was, and is.


Trudy's pretty valuable, too. She's becoming a Lady MacBeth of sorts, and is proving to be instrumental to Pete's success. It's yet to be seen if he knows this.


Unfortunately, though, the eldest Draper kids are merely afterthoughts. Are they really gonna live with Carla for those whole six weeks that Betty is in Reno?


At the end of the episode, the closing song included the lyrics, "The future is much better than the past. In the future, you will find a love that lasts." Betty's face seems to imply otherwise. Like Don said, "Something happened—something terrible—and the way that people saw themselves is gone." We shall wait and see.

[Vancouver, November 6. Image via Bauer-Griffin.]

As the news spread through the show's universe, we saw the quotidian collide with the global: work, love, relationships all suddenly became trivial. The reactions rang true - perhaps especially so when we've come to understand what it is to have a beloved young president whose very existence inspires optimism, and in a time when we've come to understand national tragedy and the panic it induces.


Meeting Peggy for a "nooner," Duck makes the questionable - and telling - decision not to inform her of the shooting until after sex... particularly callous when you consider that Peggy, from an observant Catholic family, would feel especially effected by the news of Kennedy's death. In a sense, all the relationships are thrown into stark relief: Jane and Roger prove to be on completely different wavelengths at a time when their generational differences are starting to tell; Margaret and Brooks commit to being part of a dying order; Pete and Trudie bond; Roger reaffirms his bond with Joan.





If people's reactions were telling, Don's speaks volumes. And does this first disregard of his word as law presage a new era in the Draper home?


In the world of denial- or is it grit? - Roger and Mona go through with their daughter Margaret's wedding. Roger calls the moment hopeful in the midst of tragedy; it feels more like the last gasp of an old order who won't let go. Once again, Don tries to make everything right. But clearly, that time has passed. The moment's far more "if that's all there is" than romantic, and for the first time, Don has lost control - not just of the moment, but of the pulse of the times.


In the wake of Kennedy's - and then Oswald's - deaths, clearly Betty feels the time for inaction has passed. But is this brave - or another kind of running?


The showdown we've been waiting for was still shocking. Truthfully, I don't know how I felt about implicitly tying the Draper's marriage to the lost innocence of the Camelot years - but the show is telling us in no uncertain terms: nothing will ever be the same again.

First: A hobo is a worker who wanders. Wikipedia notes that in addition to "travelers," gypsies were often referred to as "Wise Women."

Don has certainly wandered; Betty is just now getting wise, so to speak. Right at the very beginning of the episode, she challenges Don: "You have no more money." A question phrased like a statement, because she knows the answer. She's seen the stacks of cash in his drawer. She's giving Don a chance to come clean, even though she knows he won't. Not that easily.

The other woman in Don Draper's life, Suzanne Farrell, was also wising up: "I see a man who is not happy," she says. "I'm happy now," Don replies. It's a lie. He's lying to himself. Or it's the truth; and he's happy with things the way they are: Cheating on his wife, sneaking into Miss Farrell's apartment for secret sex and pasta. Either way: Not what Suzanne Farrell believes, or wants to hear.

Meanwhile, Joan was coaching her husband's interview skills. Another example of the "Wise Woman." As usual, Joan is on the money. (Anyone else think she would make a good shrink?) Her intuitive way of dealing with her husband; explaining: "This is a talking profession," came off as experienced and savvy. She knows how to work with people; she's a gifted communicator. In addition, when describing the qualities her husband should project: "You're smart, you're funny, you're great to be around…" was Joan just projecting her own qualities on to him?

Also, since this episode was about secrets coming out of the drawer and into the light, his "I can't believe I never told you that" fit right in.

In bed, Suzanne said to Don: I just wanted more than I thought I would want. But it will pass." This reminded me of "This too shall pass," the phrase Solomon (the famous Biblical wise man) saw on a ring. The ring was supposed to have power: "If a happy man looks at it, he becomes sad, and if a sad man looks at it, he becomes happy." Happiness fades, but so does sadness. Don thinks he's happy — it'll pass. Suzanne is sad they can't be more to each other — it'll pass. Perhaps she's been in this situation before?

In her father's house, Betty spills what she knows about Don to her lawyer: "He's been married before… It's a lie so big." Her lawyer, acting as a stand-in father figure, recommends: "Go home, give it a try." Adding: "That's what I'd tell my own daughter."

Another thing fascinating about this scene is how the lawyer calls Betty "Betsy." It's been interesting how she has so many different names; with her dad, she would say, "It's me, Elizabeth." Don calls her Betty, Betts or Birdie. What does she want to be called?

Roger Sterling and his old flame, Annabelle Mathis, had a boozy night in which they referenced the war, Casablanca and a love affair gone wrong. The sexual chemistry was palpable, but when she said "you still want me," he replied: "So what." And: "It's different with this girl. I'm sorry."

Roger also dealt with his other old flame — when Joan called, asking for help with work. There was something close to pride in his voice when he recommended her for a job, saying, "She's expensive."

Joan's husband Greg screwed up his interview then took his anger out on her: "Stop acting like you know everything." Rational Joan: "We need money." Greg ranted: "You don't know what it's like to want something your whole like, and to plan for it, and count on it, and not get it." Fool! Joan knows all too well what that's like. She thought she'd be the wife of a surgeon, not supporting a whiner/failure. When Joan hits Greg on the head, not only is she pissed: She is trying to knock some sense into him, and rejecting his notion that she doesn't know what it's like to work towards something all your life.

The sole comic relief in last night's episode occurred during the dog food focus group, in which the pup owners projected their own personalities on to their pooches, who were eating horse meat. Peggy's line, "I can't turn it off; It's happening" basically describes everything about this show: Life is not a well-produced commercial. It's messy business not even Don Draper can control.

We found out that Roger Sterling's old flame broke his heart. She said: "You were the one." It's like she's emptying out her own desk drawer of secrets. Unfortunately, Roger Sterling wasn't moved by her revelations.

Don and Betty's showcase showdown over the desk drawer was chilling. She exhibited a steely resolve hinted at (remember when she shot the birds?) but never explored. It was both shocking and a relief to see Betty becoming a font of strength. Don's comebacks — "you changed your name" — were so weak, he was basically destroyed. So much came tumbling out of Betty — "I respected your privacy too long"; "You're a very very gifted storyteller" — it was almost horrifying. So raw, so stripped down of the usual gloss. So out of the comfort zone. Don Draper shaky? Don Draper unsettled? Don Draper fumbling with his cigarettes? Unprecedented. Betty eventually showed signs of concern — not pity — and offered to get him a drink. But that didn't stop what happened next:

Don Draper cried.
He spilled everything about his mother the 22-year-old prostitute, his Uncle Mac, his half-brother Adam and how they're all dead. We witnessed the Death Of Don Draper As We Know Him, and it was hard to witness.

By the by: Nothing good can come of Greg joining the army. Him saying "Vietnam… If that's still going on…" is most likely foreshadowing. We have the burden of knowing of course it's "still going on." And lots of people die. Good luck with that, Greg.

It was kind of insane that while Betty and Don's confrontation was taking place, Suzanne Farrell was waiting in Don's car. "What happened? Did you get caught?" she asked, which we knew was a double entendre: Never mind the affair. He got caught in the biggest ruse of all: His life.

At the very end of the episode, we see the Hobo and the Gypsy for whom the script was named. It was Halloween, after all: The day which celebrates pretending to be someone you're not. Don Draper's spent years faking it; ironic that he's suddenly been forced to take off his mask. But when Betty watched him kiss the kids goodbye as he went to work, it was as though she was watching a stranger.

So. When Don and Betty took the kids trick-or-treating, and the neighbor said, "Who are you supposed to be," it was an excellent question. Don Draper is his unflappable, hardened exterior. Now that it's cracked, who the hell is he? Is he Dick? Is he Don?

The end titles were set to "Where Is Love," from the musical Oliver!. Though the film was released in 1968, the show premiered in London's West End in 1960 and hit Broadway in 1963.

Oliver!, as you may know, is loosely based on Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. In the show, Oliver is an orphan who has the courage to ask for more, ends up hanging with pick-pockets (what is advertising but sleight of hand?), but is actually an innocent, though crime is all around him — what he wants more than anything is a sense of belonging. A family.

Earlier: Mad Men: "Enjoy The World As It Is. They'll Change It, And Never Give You A Reason"
Mad Men: Everyone Is Disappointed
On Mad Men, When Is It Rape?
Mad Men: Sex, Lies, & The Recline Of The Roman Empire
Mad Men's Appeal Is All About Joan
Mad Men: Drinking, Dancing, & Screwing
Mad Women Experience Frequent Aftershocks
Mad Men: It's All Fun & Games Until Someone Loses A…
Mad Men: Blood, Sweat, And Tears
Mad Men: "It's A Dead Man's Hat. Take It Off."
Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

As someone who also chain smokes and enjoys a wine or two every night, I'm terrified of age progression photos, although they seem to be a pretty good argument for quitting bad habits. Age progression—via Photoshop—is also pretty useful when it comes to missing children. (And pretty accurate, too. The one that authorities created for Jaycee Dugard was remarkably true to life.)

For Betty, I assumed that she would maintain her figure and hair as much as she could, being so vain and all. But 20 years in the future, before the ubiquity of Botox and laser treatments, Betty would begin feeling the effects of the life she's lived, including wrinkles, age spots, thinning hair, and a growing nose.


For Don, it seemed to make the most sense to base his aging on Frank Sinatra's. However, I was shocked as hell when the liver spots, rosacea, deep lines, enlarged nose and ears, and receding hairline made him a dead-ringer for Mel Gibson.

Last night's episode was titled,"The Color Blue," referencing this post-coital conversation between Don and Sally's teacher Suzanne,, wherein they ponder a question one of her students asked, "How do I know if what I see as blue is the same as it is to you?" Don remarked, "People may see things differently, but they don't really want to."

Part of the shared human experience is the desire to be understood, to have others (or at least someone) see things as we do. But another part of the human experience is that we each have a different lens—shaped by our individual experiences—that renders a worldview unique to each person. So, basically, we're all doomed to misunderstandings.


Exhibit A: The teacher's brother.
He has epilepsy (or "fits") which is making socialization/work/life difficult for him: it freaks out those who don't understand the disorder. As the brother, Charlie, sees it, "Other people are the problem." He's tired of being misunderstood to the point that he doesn't want to even try to assimilate anymore. His sister tries to renew his faith in humanity when she tells him, "People are ignorant. They're scared of things they don't understand." But he may not have understood.


Exhibit B: Paul Kinsey
He's in the "other people are the problem" camp as well. And when he says "people" he means women, specifically Peggy. As Peggy pointed out to Don when she was asking him for a raise a few episodes back, Kinsey makes more money doing the same job as he does ("and not always as well"). In this clip, Paul's pitch for the Aqua Net account falls flat, but Peggy comes to the rescue with some good ideas. Paul sees her good work as a negative reflection on himself, rather than a positive reflection on his team.


Paul thinks he's telling Peggy something she doesn't already know when he says, "Wearing a dress isn't going to help you with [the] Western Union [account]." Clearly he thinks being a woman is a benefit for Peggy's career, rather than a hurdle.


While Kinsey was jerking off and getting wasted, Peggy was actually hammering out ideas, and making sure to keep track of them. If Peggy views her gender to be a hurdle in this business, maybe she understands that she can't do anything to fuck it up.


Once Kinsey finally has his inspiration, he's too busy being proud of himself to write it down. Perhaps, since he hasn't had to deal with the same setbacks as Peggy in this business, he isn't as prudent about his work. So, in that way, perhaps Peggy "wearing a dress" does help her with the Western Union account.


While Don is busy acting like Tony Soprano (sleeping over the goomah's house and lining his desk drawer with cash), Betty is busy reading The Group by Mary McCarthy, which was on the New York Times best-seller list in 1963. It's a novel concerning a group of women who come from affluent backgrounds and graduated from Vassar together in 1933. They find that the Great Depression has given them a more autonomous lifestyle, as they are encouraged to work and have careers. Again, the Depression was viewed by many people one way, and by this "group" as something completely different. Amazon says:

Mary McCarthy filets Ivy League society, socialism, 1930s child-rearing practices, sexual double-standards, psychoanalysis, and men in general.

Betty probably relates to the character Kay (which was loosely based on McCarthy's own life), as Kay "subsumes her own talent to the artistic 'genius' of her egocentric and philandering husband." Interestingly, since last night's episode, the book has gone from a ranking of around 64,000 to 3,200 on Amazon.


Interestingly, Sterling Cooper was founded in 1933, the same year The Group takes place.


While doing the laundry, Betty happens upon a set of keys that belong to Don. She seems relieved at first that they fit into is desk drawer (and not some women's apartment), but then she finds Dick.


He's gonna have some explaining to do. But after Don doesn't return home from work, Betty rethinks rocking the boat with a confrontation, and returns the box and key where she found them.


Does anyone else think that Don made a huge mistake giving his card to the teacher's brother, who "always" needs money? I have a feeling this guy is gonna blackmail Don for his drawer cash.


In the end, Kinsey, realizes that he's not so misunderstood, when Don and Peggy both empathize with his "lost idea." And in the end, he realized that Peggy's intelligence is what helped her out with the Western Union account.


In the car, on the way to Sterling Cooper's anniversary party, Roger's mother, who seems to be suffering through a bit of dementia, manages to drop a super insightful (not to mention, heavy on the foreshadowing) quip when she told Jane, "Enjoy the world as it is. They'll change it, and never give you a reason." November 22, here we come.

The opener — Betty being caressed by an unseen man — who we just know is Henry Francis — was actually a dream. And Betty's first disappointment of the episode.

Don Draper is headed into work early when he sees Suzanne Farrell — Sally's teacher — jogging. Interesting that she's wearing a top from Bowdoin College: Harriet Beecher Stowe started writing her influential anti-slavery novel Uncle Tom's Cabin in Bowdoin's Appleton Hall while her husband was teaching at the school. Also interesting: When talking about reading Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech to her class, Miss Farrell says: "It would be nice for them to hear an adult say it." Is she assuming parents aren't discussing such things with the children? (Is she correct? And is she disappointed that she's the only one who cares?) Don is clearly intrigued by a puzzle he can't solve, saying: "Who are you? Dumb or pure?" Alas, Don's adman coercion has zero finesse when he commands: "Have coffee with me." If you accept coffee as a euphemism for cheating on your wife, then it's especially wry when Miss Farrell says, "Maybe that's why you can't sleep. Too much coffee."

I like the hints that Don Draper and Suzanne Farrell are old school versus new school: Don's got his '50s tail fins on his car; she's jogging, ahead of the fitness craze. He's the buttoned-up businessman; she's a creative type, into current events.

Also, this scene and the next had sounds of distant thunder… A humid summer rain? Or foreshadowing of the storm that's coming?

Meanwhile, Betty makes a bold step and reaches out to Henry.

Henry reaches right back.

At the office, Sal is settling into his role as commercial director, yay! Only the client, Lee Garner — of Lucky Strike — can't be pleased. Boo. Lee's "long, wet lunch" adds to his mood; and he makes a move on Sal. Sal is not accommodating; Lee is upset. No one likes to be disappointed.

Betty's next letter to Henry is part flirtation and part cry for help: "But I do have thoughts." Her disappointment is clear: Her life isn't living up to her expectations.

More disappointment: Conrad Hilton is feeling so alone. Don tries to reassure him; Hilton says, "You're like a son." In fact, there's something more between Connie and Don than with Connie and his own kids, because, as Connie explains, "you never had what they had." Meaning the fortune of growing up with a rich father. This kind of talk taps into Don's daddy issues, and you can almost see his armor falling when he says, "Thank you… I mean it."

More disappointment at Sterling Cooper: The company's on the verge of losing Lucky Strike, thanks to Sal's refusal to engage in some man-on-man action with Lee Garner. Don is, in turn, disappointed with Sal. Don says, "Lucky Strike could shut off our lights." What he means is: "Obviously you fuck a client, if that is what the client wants!" Sal — recently told he was fired by Roger Sterling — was hoping Don would intervene. No such luck. Disappointment!

Sal was stunned/hurt/destroyed/disappointed as he packed up his portfolio. Sob.

While Don was at work dealing with disappointment, Betty had a surprise visitor: Henry Francis. Unfortunately, Carla interrupted their hand-holding in the foyer. When Don gets home, Betty feels the need to tell him about "that man from the governor's office" — and make sure that Carla can hear. Don's response: "I don't care." How very disappointing. As for Carla, she seems to know that there are shenanigans afoot. Betty may feel like she doesn't have to explain herself to Carla, but she can't help herself. The power dynamics between them are strained.

After Don and his team create a "great" campaign for Hilton, Connie is "deeply disappointed" in Don for not including a reference to the moon. More daddy issues, more let downs. It's hard to please your stand-in-father! And it's hard to have a psuedo-son who doesn't listen!

Even more frustrating: When your dreamlover penpal doesn't show up to the political fundraiser you only threw to get closer to him. Even though Betty is filled with desire, she doesn't want to do it on a desk or in a motel, come on. "It's tawdry." Henry Francis says, "I don't know what you want." Betty's disappointment seems to have many levels: This is not how she thought it would be. She wants romance, or meaning, or something. He should know what she wants. Except doesn't know what she wants, either… But a quickie on the office couch isn't it.

At home, Betty walks in as Carla is listening to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s 'Eulogy for the Martyred Children', which MLK gave at the funeral for the four black girls killed in a Birmingham, Alabama church bombing on September 15, 1963. When Betty says, "You can leave it on YOUR station" — emphasis mine — she is reinforcing the idea that she is separate from Carla, and that black people issues are not white people issues or national issues. Betty's reminding Carla that she, Betty, is on another level. Betty pushes this further by saying, "It's really made me wonder about civil rights. Maybe it's not supposed to happen right now." Since she's already turned the radio off, poor Carla didn't have the chance to get up to the part in Dr. King's speech when he said, "We must not lose faith in our white brothers. …Somehow we must believe that the most misguided among them can learn to respect the dignity and the worth of all human personality."

Meanwhile, somewhere in New York (infamous gay hangout The Ramble in Central Park?) Sal is calling his wife while surrounded by lots of MENZ. Since turning down an encounter got him into trouble, he may as well go drown his sorrows in some al fresco sex.

Lastly, Don and Suzanne have a face off fraught with sexual tension: "I know exactly how it ends," she says. She's practical, guarded, pragmatic. When she says, "I don't think you've done this before this way," is she insinuating that she has? No matter: Don's aggressive and impulsive: "I want you. I don't care. Doesn't that mean anything to someone like you? " He's not willing to entertain the idea that she's not impressed by him: That would be too disappointing.

Earlier: On Mad Men, When Is It Rape?
Mad Men: Sex, Lies, & The Recline Of The Roman Empire
Mad Men's Appeal Is All About Joan
Mad Men: Drinking, Dancing, & Screwing
Mad Women Experience Frequent Aftershocks
Mad Men: It's All Fun & Games Until Someone Loses A…
Mad Men: Blood, Sweat, And Tears
Mad Men: "It's A Dead Man's Hat. Take It Off."
Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

[New York, October 5. Image via INFDaily.]

• Handbag model Lily Allen performed live at the farming-themed, hay-strewn Chanel show this morning. [Fashionista]
• Claudia Schiffer has formally announced she will no longer do any runway modeling. She plans to fill her downtime with a trip to Iraq. [Sun]

• Marc Jacobs' and Viacom's flacks have denied the reports that Marc Jacobs and Lorenzo Martone are to appear on a gay version of the Real Housewives for the Logo network. [CityFile]
• Vera Wang, however, says bring on the cameras. "I'm doing a TV show. It's coming. I don't know when, or how, but it's coming," said the designer at the National Arts Awards. Wang, seated at the table of collector Julie Minskoff, said she doesn't buy art because she can't afford it. But if money were no object, "I would buy Tom Sachs, because I like Hello Kitty. And the guy who does all the pills, because I take them all." Should make for some interesting viewing, then. [StyleFile]
• A Puma branded mobile phone: It's happening sometime next spring. [WWD]
• Ever phlegmatic Vogue editor Grace Coddington, on fans now recognizing her in the street: "It's probably a short-lived thing. There will be another fashion movie and another person who comes out from that." [Grazia]
• During the Givenchy show, someone stole Coddington's purse from her chauffeured car while the driver apparently napped. [NYDN]
• Prince turned up at the Yves Saint Laurent show in a gold sequined suit he designed himself. [WWD]
• The only odd thing about this sweet article on the art show Rodarte is curating in Paris: who is this documentary crew that's mentioned in passing, and why have they been following the Mulleavy sisters for four years? [NYTimes]
• Actress Ashley Judd is releasing a perfume, of which she says, "Beloved Red Rose captures the essence of love." Not that she'd be an objective source on that or anything. [People]
• Meanwhile, Tamara Mellon's Jimmy Choo has signed a 12-year fragrance licensing contract. So expect a Jimmy Choo scent soon. [WWD]
• The reason Celine had a lag of 13 months between confirming Phoebe Philo as its new creative director and actually giving her a catwalk show is apparently not because the LVMH overlords' were given pause by anything Philo did — it's simply that 2009 was marked off as "Transition Year" in Marco Gobbetti's calendar, and spring 2010, well, that's a whole ball game. [Reuters]
• French Connection is closing it s21 stores in Japan. The retailer lost $16.8 million in the first six months of this year. [WWD]
• Cher and Bob Mackie are at it again, creating costumes out of rhinestones, nude tricot, and feathers for the star's Caesar's Palace show in Vegas. What else would you expect? [People]
• Juergen Teller is working on a book of nude photographs of Raquel Zimmerman and Charlotte Rampling at the Louvre. [WWD]
• Ellen Tracy is taking its sportswear slightly downmarket. From this spring onwards, its wares will cost $50-$149. The brand has signed an exclusive distributorship deal with Macy's. [Crain's]
• For those who wish they could be Don Draper: A limited run of 250 suits inspired by Mad Men will be sold at Brooks Brothers starting October 19th. [WWD]
• Pierre Bergé, Yves Saint Laurent's life and business partner, says he received death threats and was accompanied by bodyguards following his decision to auction two Qing dynasty bronzes from his and Saint Laurent's art collection that China wanted repatriated. [Reuters]
• Chef Marcus Samuelsson, television chef Giada de Laurentiis, and Zac Posen are cooking this weekend for a $325-a-head event at the Food Network New York City Wine & Food Festival. Samuelsson muses on the similarities between professional cooking and fashion design: "I've been backstage at a fashion show, and it's like a kitchen. It's a very similar energy." Posen, a home cook, says Martha Stewart and Jacques Pépin saved his life. "I was a very depressed middle-school student and I watched [those shows] avidly, and then Martha Stewart changed my life. Her first cookbook [Entertaining] was given to my mom, but I took it." WWD even re-prints Samuelsson's maple-glazed salmon and couscous recipe. [WWD]
• Renzo Rosso, the Diesel founder who owns Maison Martin Margiela, has confirmed that the rarely seen Belgian designer, rumored to have departed his namesake house, has been gone for "a long time." Instead, Margiela is "here but not here. We have a new fresh design team on board." This season's collection, just shown in Paris, was rated a disappointment by the fashion press, who would like to see a successor named. Haider Ackerman and Raf Simons are rumored to be under consideration, but anyone named would have to design the label anonymously. [Vogue UK]
• Roland Mouret: Just another designer broadcasting his show live on the Internet. [WWD]
• Some Very Important Designer forgot his ticket to Viktor & Rolf and nearly had to stand with the hoi polloi! [Fashionista]
• The Clean Clothes Campaign is pressuring Europe's biggest retailers, like Tesco, Aldi, and Carrefour, to institute a common guaranteed minimum wage for garment workers across Asia. Its lofty goal? Assuring that the people who make the clothes we wear are paid $475 a month and get a 48-hour workweek. You can e-mail retailers via the Campaign's website. [WWD]

We see our heros and heroines in odd situations: Betty sensual, Peggy naked in bed with an unknown man, and Don face-down on a hotel floor.


Back at the office, Don tries to impress Conrad Hilton by ordering his secretary to hold his calls. The look on her face is priceless.


Betty's fellow Junior Leaguers have read the recent blockbuster environmental book Silent Spring, and invoke it in their fight against an ugly water tower in their neighborhood. Also: "It's not adorable to pretend like you're not adorable," apparently.


Betty sneaks a call in Don's office with Henry Francis, her new father-surrogate. Notice at the end, she pulls on the Don's always-locked Bluebeard drawer to see if he left it unlocked, and then gives up.


"Can I keep it?" Duck tries to woo Peggy to his new firm with the lure of an ugly Hermes scarf.


A Melba Toast box! A callback to Betty's complaining that all the Melba Toast was gone.


Betty's all over herself in that sundress — about to cheat on the vibrating clothesdryer, perhaps?


Betty tells crush Henry Francis "We all have skills we don't use."


Sally's teacher thinks she's so hot, and tries the "hitting on you by pretending you're hitting on me" trick, but Don blocks her advances by telling her "I'm not bored."


Roger Sterling: the Kramer of this show.


Don, seeming to forget that she knows where the bodies are buried, is a total dick to Peggy. "Every time I turn around you've got your hand in my pocket. There's not one thing that you've done here that I couldn't live without. You're good, get better, stop asking for things." Funny how Cooper could say the same thing to Don!


New email signature: "I wanna take you in that bedroom, lock the door, take your clothes off with my teeth, throw you on the bed, and give you a go around like you've never had."


Betty knows Don's contract with Sterling Cooper is a proxy for his contract with her. "Where do you think you'll be in three years?"


Don meets wholesome draft-dodgers Doug and Sandy, and takes the red pill(s).


Oops, the red pill means Don has to watch his father tell a dirty joke about hillbillies. Worst Matrix ever!


The hippie robbers called Don "Cadillac." So his ensuing injuries are, of course, a "fender bender."


Betty gets the fainting couch of her sex dreams.


Cooper reminds Don that he's in no position to fight the contract, because of what Cooper knows. You might even say he's lucky to even get to sign a contract like that, when plenty of full grown men who are who they say they are would be happy to sign away three years of their lives to Sterling Cooper.

[Boston, September 24. Image via Splash.]

They call it "aftershocks" - that slightly too-long moment of reaction, in which time most shows would have cut away. Particularly for the female characters, the device is revealing and crucial. As Variety points out, even those interactions that would seem to exclude women give them a "voice" in these scenes - often the loudest one. These moments are carefully plotted: each episode is preceded by a "tone meeting," in which the editors plan the distinct feeling they're going for. And while "dead air" is normally anathema to television - and was initially deemed "too slow" by AMC - the silences are a big part of the show's power.


Take this moment: on the page, it might look like Don's in complete control, displaying his sophistication and shutting down Peggy's attempt at small talk. It's in the silence that we see Peggy decide it's not worth it, and take the situation back - and in Don's look at her departing back that we know he knows it, too, and that a power shift has occurred.


This scene - in which Joan's husband tells her he hasn't gotten a much-desired promotion - would be effective anyway. But it's the moment of silence, in which we see Joan drop her ever-present game face and admit defeat, that makes it devastating.


There are only three lines here, when you think about it: all the tension comes from the silences and the pauses - and it's really tense; you feel a physical relief when Grandpa Gene reveals that he's not going to yell at Sally for stealing his money - or even mention it. His look says: I know, I have the power, and I'm wielding it benevolently. It's over. And somehow it's more suspenseful than a procedural packed with corpses and nonstop dialogue.

'Mad Men' Cutters Cue Subtle Moments [Variety]

The essay, by Cathleen Calbert, starts out cute.

John Wayne was a man. The young Marlon Brando was a guy - didn't you see the hurt and indecision in his eyes in "On the Waterfront"? Rock Hudson was a man. James Dean was a guy...On the other hand, I want the E.M.T.'s who show up when I've collapsed to be men, not guys. I don't want someone responsible for saving my life to be torn up about the death of his dog or how some chick hurt his feelings.

You get the idea: "men" are competent and 1950s-repressed. "Guys" are arrested and boyish, but in touch with their feelings. She likes guys.

And then:

After I was molested in a deserted schoolyard, my father explained to me the difference between boys and men. "If it's a man," he told me, "you don't scream. With a boy, you scream." The logic being, I suppose, that a man would do whatever it took to make you stop screaming whereas boys still have fear in them; a boy would run away.

Her dad goes after the teenage molestors and scares them. "That's what a man does. He takes revenge...My father didn't speak to me again about that day. That's also what a man does." Then it becomes all about her dad, distant and mid-century-repressed and unable to give the author more than this harsh guardianship. He dies when she's young, and she thinks that's okay because "I suspect we would not be on speaking terms had he lived."

It's a good, personal essay. But what I found kind of ironic about it is that she's let her dad's harshness color her perception of the world as starkly as he did. "Men" and "guys." "Her dad" and "people she likes." Of course, everyone does this to a degree, but I think the binary she outlines isn't uncommon: we've got the repressed masculinity of a Don Draper and modern guys, and as a culture we've never reconciled the two at all. Even now, the dudes we see on ads or TV tend to be goobers or douches, with not much in-between. Men have to be harmless or they're...not, just as her dad viewed every boy the author dated as a potential molester. We cut "guys" slack. We hold them to a lower standard. Even growing up with a loving, sensitive dad, I fall into this: I've talked about dating "grownups," the men in suits who take you on real dates - as opposed to the vaguely-careered sensitive types who don't seem to have earned the "man" appellation. Time was, this limbo didn't exist.

And that can't be easy. It's easy to blame the Boomers here, but hell, we're adults in a post-existentialist world, with a degree of buck-stopping autonomy nowadays. We know well that stark gendered expectations are constricting, and surely "guy" and "man" is as damaging as "girl" and "woman?" And the truth is, we can like both, because people can be both - but only if we let them, right?

Forget The Men. Pick a Guy. [NYT]

One minute Grandpa Gene's here, the next there's a baby living in his room. One minute you think you might be moving to London, the next you find you're not. One minute you think your husband's about to be a chief resident, the next you find he'll never be a surgeon. One minute you think you're running a glamorous New York office — the next you're howling over a bloody, shredded appendage.

Last night's episode began with Sally voicing her fear of the dark. Or, as she put it: "I'm afraid of what's going to happen when you turn the lights out." It's not that she's afraid of the unknown: She's afraid of her worst fears lurking there, in her own house.

When Betty was cuddling with the new baby, Bobby asked, "Can I pet him?" Sally, on the other hand, stayed far away. Later, Betty told Don, "She won't even go in his room." Change is not always easy.

At Sterling Cooper, we learn it's soon to be Joan's — Mrs. Harris' — last day. But when her husband comes home late — and drunk — Joan finds out that he didn't make chief resident. "You're not going to be able to leave your job," he says, but she replies, "that's done." Things have changed: Joan thought she was leaving the job behind and starting a whole new life, but now she realizes she'll have to alter her plans. Her face before turning out the light was amazing: Sadness, anger, weariness yet strength and resolve, all in that one moment, one expression.

The arrival of The Brits at Sterling Cooper was also a sign of change. Sometimes change comes in a neatly wrapped gift. But just as inside Layne Price's "gift" box was a snake and the message "We're sending you to Bombay," not all change is welcome. Earlier, Bert Cooper - who seems to be woefully out of touch - hinted that Don might be transferred to London, but at a meeting, dashing newcomer Guy McKendrick informed the department heads that things will, for the most part, stay the same. Or, as Pete explained it to Harry: "They reorganized us and you're the only one in the room who got a promotion." Sometimes change sucks!

Meanwhile, Betty was trying to change Sally's mind about the baby, using "fairies" and a Barbie doll. Sally, an astute realist, declared: "Baby Gene can't write." The doll seemed to know that she was also a snake in a box, so to speak, and couldn't even look Sally in the eye. (Related: Could Sally's disinterest in the Barbie be evidence of a growing disinterest in all things "girly"?)

One thing that was odd — when dashing Guy McKendrick addressed "Mrs. Harris"…

…Joan — who always keeps it together — broke down and cried. For a change.

Thinking that it was Joan's last day, Peggy made the effort to tell her that she appreciated Joan's efforts, although, "It's just we can't all be you." But Peggy's heartfelt expression of gratitude was interrupted by the creatives getting splattered with blood. The dashing Guy McKendrick's foot! Mangled by a riding mower! Peggy fainted — in Pete's arms — but Joan! Joan was grace under pressure, quickly making a tourniquet (perhaps she would make a good doctor!). Surely having her hubs fail at the hospital while she managed her keep her composure while covered in blood was no accident on the part of the writers. In any case, the foot-mangling: How can something so horrible be so hilarious? One of the best lines in this episode was actually Roger Sterling, later saying, "Somewhere in this business, this has happened before." (Plus! the title of this episode is basically a joke: "Guy Walks into an Advertising Agency.")

While the Brit was on the verge of bleeding to death, Don was taking a meeting with Conrad Hilton, the famed hotelier whose first wife, Mary Adelaide Barron, had a son named William Barron Hilton — Paris Hilton's grandfather. (Conrad's second wife? Zsa Zsa Gabor.) Conrad — Connie — and Don had met previously; and when Connie asked the loaded question, "So what do you want?" he was disappointed by Don's answer. Connie scolded: "The next time someone like me asks you a question like that, you need to think bigger." Don, who'd gotten his hopes up about a job in London only to be quietly let down, had a comeback for that, and it involved more snake imagery and the moral: "One opportunity at a time."

But change really was the theme of the episode, and Joan had a great little speech at the hospital: "One minute you're on top of the world, the next some secretary's running you over with a lawn mower." She was referring to the dashed hopes of the dashing Brit, but also to her own dreams of quitting her job, which she would now have to abandon.

Sally's Barbie ended up in the bushes, where she meant for it to be: Out of the house.

Don returning it to her room made her scream, and Sally finally explained her fear about the baby and her dead grandfather: "He's called Gene, he sleeps in his room, he looks just like him…" Valid points! But instead of talk of "fairies" — like she got from her mom — Sally got a declarative "there's no such thing as ghosts" from her father, as well as some actual physical contact.

Don finally gave Sally what she really needed: Some reassurance, some parenting, the hand-holding that a child requires when going through a big change (without the bribery of dolls, or "fairy" talk). And maybe we all need someone to gently walk us through change? 1963 was full of change — in this episode there were references to Iwo Jima and the draft — and it's only July. In August, Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his "I Have A Dream" speech — marking a huge, public moment of a wave of change.

Earlier: Mad Men: Blood, Sweat, And Tears
Mad Men: "It's A Dead Man's Hat. Take It Off."
Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

There will be blood! In fact, the increasingly unhinged grammar-schooler, we quickly learn, has taken her acting out to another level: assaulting a fellow pupil, Becky Pearson - "Sally told me she's a bruiser," is how Betty describes this female version of Golding's "Piggy" character - and shoving her head into the faucet of a public water fountain during gym class. This scene, of course, sees the return of Sally's flower-childish schoolteacher, Miss Farrell - Suzanne Farrell, for those familiar with dance history - who has called Don and Betty into her classroom to inform them of the situation, and to make clear to audiences (as if we hadn't already noticed) that every adult in Sally's life besides her parents seems to actually pay attention to her. Betty for one, is too busy hiding from reality while simultaneously regressing to a childlike state: The soon-to-be mother who needs to be mothered? Sure, but I, for one, am beginning to tire of her mild hysterics.


Back at the office, the resident British bean counter, Layne Price is on an alliterative, cost-cutting tear, much to Don's chagrin. I loved how he arrived late... and left early.


Is it just me, or did this brief glimpse of Joan's eyes give the appearance of barefly-contained amusement?


After setting Price straight with an offer of spirits and a well-crafted sales pitch in defense of his creative team, Don returns home to a strangely-empty home and a ringing telephone. On the other line: Sally's apologetic teacher, Miss Farrell. Where she seemed appealingly adult and self-possessed (compared to the Drapers, that is) earlier that day, here - replete with cradled cocktail and fallen bra strap - she comes across as not only flirtatious but fragile, as if she is somehow mirroring the delicacy she spied in Betty that morning in order to gain Don's attentions. ("I don't even know why I"m calling," she says. Ha! We do!) However, I'm not sure that Miss Farrell's dancing - literally and figuratively - will lead to any sort of dalliance between her and Don: despite telling Betty that it was "no one" on the phone, he seems bemused, not besotted. Perhaps he's realizing that, to every woman but his own daughter, he's a sort of father figure.


The episode's labor and delivery scenes will no doubt be the most discussed. I've never given birth, so I can't speak for the realism - or lack thereof - of Betty's experience of the stages of childbirth, but I found her rapid descent into a helpless, mildly-psychotic, hallucinatory fugue state annoying at best, insulting at worst, if only because, as Peggy says later on in the episode, the Drapers are "old hat" at this. Are we to really believe that Betty would fall apart so profoundly at the very moment her mothering instincts are most needed? Perhaps, but it's such a far cry from the self-awareness and possession she displayed in previous seasons that it rings a bit false to me, even with the added trauma of her father's death.


To further underscore this helplessness, Mad Men producers inserted this brief scene of Betty - - stuffed into a desk, of sorts, that she can actually fit into - struggling with a pen and her hospital admission papers. (As for that "pineapple" line, the tropical fruit was apparently considered an abortifacient.)


Teacher knows best.


To be honest, I wasn't particularly intrigued by the scenes between Don and his new hospital waiting-room buddy, first-time dad and prison guard Dennis Hobart. After a few swigs of Johnny Walker Red (and a few puffs on a cigarette) Don pushes back at Dennis' insistence that the criminals in his charge at Sing Sing have only their parents to blame - "it's a bullshit excuse," Don says - but the parallels between the particulars of Don's birth and Dennis' own fears for his wife and baby ("If something happens to her...how could I love that baby?" were interesting, as was the beginning of an assertion that would be repeated by Don throughout the episode (to Dennis, to Sally, to Peggy) that everything will be "fine". Oh, and did anyone notice Lisa Simpson made a cameo as the nurse?


As Don is engaging in his strange getting-to-know-you session with Dennis down the hallway, back in the delivery room, Betty's psychosis is stepped up a notch, either because or despite of the 25ml of Demerol that have been added to her IV cocktail. "I can't do it," she protests while writhing on the table, having abandoned all sense of personal agency. "I'm just a housewife. Why are you doing this to me."


Those 25 mg of Demerol, of course, lead us into another drug-induced fugue sequence, in which Betty goes in search of her father, finding him in the kitchen of her Ossining home, mopping up blood. "I left my lunch pail on the bus, and I'm having a baby," she informs him in her girly voice. Her mother, and, presumably, a mortally-wounded Medgar Evers - just one of many nods (Admiral televisions! Ebony; Jet; Hollis the elevator operator; Roger's snarling sarcasm with regards to Martin Luther King) to the racial tensions and realities of the period - also make an appearance. "You're a housecat," Gene tells her. "You're very important and you have little to do". Adds her mother, holding up a handkerchief soaked with Evers' blood: "You see what happens to people who speak up?"


Back in the real world, Duck Peterson has not only reappeared, but is actively courting both Pete Campbell and Peggy Olson to rival agency Grey. I saw this scene less about the Pete/Peggy relationship - although I love how quickly Pete pivoted from disavowing a "secret relationship" between himself and Peggy to accepting congratulations for the pair's supposed "focused ambition" - than about Peggy's idea of her own importance. The confidence seen in her pot-smoking session has quickly given way to insecurity. "I don't know," she answers when Duck asks her, "You're a freewheeling career gal with great ideas. Am I wrong?"


He's not wrong, of course, and, armed with the ammunition that is Duck's attention, Peggy drops in on Don to ask for a raise: Her secretary, she says, does not respect her because of her low pay; Paul Kinsey makes more, yet doesn't do as good work. And, then there's the little issue of the equal pay act. Don's rejection of Peggy's request- and, by extension, her - is swift, and her disappointment palpable, punctuated by the yearning for what he has and she does not. (Notice how she fondled those baby shoes?) And then this: "You're gonna be fine, Peggy." She doesn't even hear him - why should she? He's been saying it so often, it's hard to believe it anymore.


Back to the baby! Despite Don's veiled disapproval over the idea of naming his newborn boy Eugene, thanks to a quick glance at the birth certificate - someone alert World Net Daily! The longform birth certificate has been found! - we see that Betty not only gone ahead and named her new son, but that she is referring to herself by her full Christian name and maiden surname. Just as I worry about Betty, I worry about the baby: "Is he going to sleep in Grandpa Gene's room?" asks Sally, raising the specter of retaliatory violence. And another baby may have met an untimely end: For whatever reason, when Don passes Dennis and his wife in the hospital hallway, Dennis averts his eyes - and there is no newborn to be seen.


The significance - if any - of Eugene Scott Draper's birth date has yet to reveal itself. According to a quick perusal of Wikipedia, nothing particularly notable happened on the day and year of his birth (we ran his birth date though an astrology generator and came up with this - anyone want to analyze?) although, perhaps coincidentally, on that date, a year later, Americans saw the murder of civil rights activists Andrew Goodman, James Chaney and Mickey Schwerner. I would like to explore the themes of race, civil rights and violence more in this episode - particularly the connection between Evers and the dearly-departed Gene Hofstadt - but that will have to wait for another day.

One of the most notable scenes took place between three generations: Grandpa Gene, Don Draper, and Bobby. As Gene showed Bobby a Prussian helmet with dried blood, Don said, "Bobby, it's a dead man's hat. Take it off." This was such a layered statement: Not only was Don trying to wrestle the parenting role away from Gene and exert his authority over his, but Don's actually the one wearing a dead man's "hat." Name, identity, etc. A father's warning to a son not to make the mistakes he made?

The episode began with a great segment showing Grandpa Gene teaching Sally how to drive. The gorgeous smile on her face says so much: It's not just that she's having fun; it's not just that she's proud that her grandfather let her take the wheel. She loves being loved, craves the attention that Grandpa Gene gives her — and which she rarely gets from her parents. (An aside: My grandfather taught me to drive and this scene made my heart swell.)

In addition to time and attention, Grandpa Gene tells Sally: "You're smart… You could really do something. Don't let your mother tell you otherwise." Wise words. Parenting from a strong father figure — which Sally clearly relished.

There were parent issues of another sort going on in Peggy's life: She told her mother that she planned to get an apartment in Manhattan, and her mother did not take it well at all. "Family's cheap," Her mother spat. "Someday both of youse is gonna feel this — this broken heart I'm carryin… You'll get raped, you know that." Peggy's sister Anita tried to diffuse the situation, telling Peggy, "The whole Father dying situation… that was hard on her." Lessons are learned through parents — even if that lesson is learning when to walk away (or move out).

Of course, Sterling Cooper was dealing with Fatherhood, as the company's new client, Horace Cook Jr., was looking to spend $3 million of his dad's money on promoting jai alai in the U.S. At a lunch with Don and Pete, Horace talked about being the "father" of the sport, and impressing his father someday by giving him a team. Pete, who has dad drama of his own, was on board for making sure Horace got what he wanted, telling Don: "So he was born with a lot of money> He has a dream and it's out job to make it come true." But in a meeting between Don, Bert, Lane and Horace Sr., Horace the elder said: "Should you be lucky enough to strike gold, remember that your children weren't there when you swung the axe." Quite an interesting take on inheritance and passing things on to your kids.

The crappy parenting Sally's been getting was on full display when a cop arrived at the house to inform Betty that Grandpa Gene was dead. Sally was, quite literally, left out.

Sally's outburst when the adults were laughing while mourning Gene came as no surprise, but its worth pointing out that while Betty brushes Sally off ("Go watch TV"), Sally doesn't move until she gets a silent, motionless okay from Don. Even though Don spends so much time away from home, the thread between father and daughter is somehow strong, trusting, understanding. And when Sally did go watch TV, what she saw was more death, namely, the now-iconic image of Buddhist monk Thích Quảng Đức self-immolating in protest of South Vietnam's treatment of Buddhists.

Of course, it wasn't all doom, gloom and daddy issues on Sunday night:

Don broke the ant farm! Is it the end of the "gynocracy"? Ant colonies need queens to survive…

…And Joan killed them all. Dead.

Joan taught Peggy a thing or two about copywriting.

The Patio commercial was ear-piercingly awful…

Although Peggy's "I told you so" look was amazing.

And watching Sal act out the Patio routine was hilarious, even if his poor wife suddenly realized the truth about her marriage.

Earlier: Mad Men: "I'm Peggy Olson, And I Want To Smoke Some Marijuana"
Mad Men: "Just Don't Get Pregnant."
An Open Letter To Jon Gosselin From Don Draper
Mad Men: Ann-Margret Gives Master Class In Womanly Arts
"His Name Is Dick - After A Wish His Mother Should Have Lived To See"

Dear Mr. Gosselin-

I'd like to skip the formalities and call you Jon, if you don't mind. It's a good name, Jon. A solid name. The kind of name that parents continue giving their children, year after year after year, decade after decade, even though the world is changing and falling apart all around them. Jon. It's the kind of name that lasts. Do you know why that is, Jon? It's because it's simple. It's humble. It's tangible and true. If you're a Jon, you're one of many. For some people, that's enough. But for others, the need to stand out is too great, and the Jons and Dons of the world, guys like you and I, have to push through to transcend the ordinary qualities of our monikers. You see, Jon, your name isn't just your name. It's your calling card. It's who you are. It's your brand. And you, Jon, are trashing the brand.

I know what it's like to have kids. Sure, I don't have eight, and my wife and I, though we have our problems, are still together, but I know those pressures, Jon. I know what it's like to worry about feeding them and clothing them and giving them all of the things I never had. And sometimes the pressures, of work, of life, of family, these things get to be too much, and maybe I make my mistakes in trying to ease these pressures, but I make mistakes like a man, Jon. Discreet. In fine hotels. Not parked at the edge of a booze-soaked pool in Vegas with my chest hair popping out of my shirt for all the world to see. What are your kids supposed to think when they see you dancing around with bikini-clad girls half their mother's age? What is America supposed to think? Your image is all you are, Jon, and right now, all you are is embarrassing.

My advice to you is this: get out of the pool. Button up your shirt. Put down the sleazy sunglasses and look in the mirror: you're a 32 year old father of eight, not a college freshman on Spring Break. If there's one thing I've learned in the advertising business, it's that even the glossiest packaging can't sell what is fundamentally a bad product. It's time for you to head in another creative direction. If you're looking for someone to get you back on track, you know who to call.

Best,
Don Draper
Creative Director
Sterling Cooper

Jon Gosselin: Pool Party Success! [Just Jared]

[Jon Gosselin pic via JustJared.]

Bitter much? I don't blame her. The latest episode of Mad Men opens with a musical number from the 1963 film version of Bye, Bye Birdie in which a wide-eyed Ann-Margret flirts shamelessly with the camera while Sterling Cooper's male members look on, enraptured. The occasion for the screening: Inspiration for a new ad campaign for "Patio,", a Tab-like soft drink that will later become Diet Pepsi and is meant to keep 60s ladies looking svelte and feeling sexy. When Peggy expresses disdain for the idea, she is quickly shot down by the men, who have not quite shaken off the shiver that went up their legs minutes prior. (Shorter Ken Cosgrove: You may be skinny again, and therefore attractive, but your opinion still means shit.)

The focus on women's weight turns out to be a recurring theme. Back in the Draper household, Don chastises Betty over the missing melba toast - "Jesus, Bets. Have some oatmeal. That baby is going to weigh a ton." - and the first thing out of Joan Holloway's mouth later that day is praise for Betty's baby-bump. ("Other than Wilma Flintstone, I haven't seen someone carry so well." A few minutes later, Roger Sterling weighs in: "Oh look, Princess Grace just swallowed a basketball.")

Uh, thanks?


The Drapers have more pressing issues to deal with than Betty's expanded belly, of course. Betty's ailing father, Gene, has been abandoned by his wife, and her brother, William, is angling to put him in an old folks' residence and acquire his rightful prize: the ancestral home. Betty, who has invited her extended family for a visit is, in her own passive-aggressive way, having none of it. Pregnancy, you see, is a "condition" that works in a woman's favor when appropriate.



But back to Peggy, the real star of this episode, and, I'd argue, the series itself. As the opening scenes make painfully clear, the scrappy copywriter's dealings with men need an update. Luckily, Joan Holloway - Harris? - can, as always, provide assistance:



As can the previously maligned Ann-Margret. Being 25 and acting 14 is apparently easier than it looks at first glance. It broke my heart to see Peggy defaulting to this type of performance so quickly.



In what was perhaps the episode's most painful scene, Peggy goes over the soda campaign with Don, whose awe for Ann-Margret seems in direct proportion to his disgust for a strongly-opinionated woman. "You're not an artist, Peggy; you solve problems," he tells her after she speaks of her disdain for the Patio pitch. "Leave some tools in your toolbox." Somehow, coming from Don, this sentiment doesn't seem nearly as benevolent as Bobbie Barrett's "it's a powerful business" iteration.



Peggy, however, is nothing if not a quick study. Hot on the heels Don's minor smackdown - and a strange encounter with Roger Sterling in the office elevator - she decides to test out some of those previously neglected tools at a Brooklyn watering hole near her home, where she reels in a well-meaning, but fairly bland young student with the very same line she saw Joan deploy so masterfully earlier in the day. I was alternately fascinated and disappointed with the manner in which Peggy both took control of this seduction and summoned her silly-girl side. "You're funny," says her suitor after she makes a grab for his burger. Yeah, I guess you could call "funny". "Phony" would be another word.


Back at the Draper home, the situation regarding Gene, Betty and William has become increasingly untenable, and Don, in an tour-de-force of emasculation, reads William a riot act that is reminiscent of Pete Campbell's own Drapered humiliations.


Betty seems both surprised and impressed.


The episode closes with a dreamy Maypole dance scene near the Drapers' home in Ossining - Don seems taken with the young elementary school teacher, but it was hard to tell if he is responding to her sexually (her free-spiritedness reminds me of Don's bohemian ex, Midge) or reacting to what she symbolizes. As Don says in his lunch meeting with one of the MSG men, "Change is neither good nor bad, it simply is. It can be greeted with terror or joy, a tantrum that says I want the way it was or a dance that says, look, something new."


Random notes: Is this a literal sign of things to come? Also: Speaking of rape, did anyone catch Joan's comment that once her husband finishes his medical residency she's better "watch out"?


As for this lady, Lane Pryce's wife, what was with her comment regarding the number of "Africans" and "insects" in her new Sutton Place neighborhood?


And did anyone else note the date on the wedding invitation for Roger Sterling's daughter?