I've assessed the situation, and I'm leaving

In the fourth episode of Mad Men, "New Amsterdam," Pete can't decide who he hates more, his wife or his boss, and Betty goes over to Helen's house and it's like an old school horror movie.

Previously: Pete tried, unsuccessfully to suck up to Don; Helen Bishop, divorced mother of two, moved in down the street from Don and Betty; Don kissed Rachel Menken on the roof of her department store; and Pete slept with Peggy two days before his wedding but afterwards they agreed not to discuss it.

Sterling Cooper offices: the Mad Boys are gathered in Pete’s office listening to a comedy record. I can’t tell who is it, but I know it’s not Lenny Bruce because Paul says, “He’s no Lenny Bruce.” They’re interrupted by Pete’s wife, Trudie, who dropped by to steal her husband away for a lunch date. Pete’s a little reluctant to leave work, but caves when she forces him to admit he doesn’t have anything going on today. As Pete gets his coat, Don and Peggy walk by. Pete introduces his boss to his wife, and shares an awkward look with Peggy. Betty sizes up the competition and decides she could totally take this society brat; Peggy’s from Brooklyn, got it? Don congratulates Trudie on being “lucky” to marry Pete, and she says, “I know! Most of my friends can’t find a good man!” Well, if “good man” means “total psychopath,” then maybe your friends are the lucky ones. After a few moments Peggy gives a little wave to Trudie and goes on her way without being formally introduced (because Pete has no manners in addition to being a cheater). Don tells Trudie that Pete is “essential to the process around her; I think we’re almost as happy to have him as you are.” Don takes his leave, and Trudie remarks on how nice he is, and “not at all like I imagined.”

Old New York-y jazz plays as we join Trudie and Pete in an empty apartment. She is raving about the space and decent price, but Pete tells her that although he wants to give her everything, with his salary they can’t afford it. Trudie tells him, “We’re not in this alone. We’re a young couple who needs help…” In just two scenes you can tell that Trudie’s one of those upper class Manhattan girls who’s never, ever wanted anything that wasn’t immediately given to her by her parents. Hate her!

Back at the office, Don runs into Paul (if this is the same day then he’s changed out of the signature Grandpa cardigan he was wearing earlier and into a suit) walking with Rachel Menken in the hallway. She’s wearing an all-black suit skirt that would be appropriate for a state funeral, but she’s also rocking a rather large turban on her head. Rachel tells Don that Paul is perfect for her account, and Paul senses the sex-gone-bad vibe and excuses himself. All of their previous snappy charm is gone as he awkwardly asks how she is and she asks, “What are you doing?” He tells her, “I don’t want it to be like this,” and she says, “Yes, well, we both know how we’d like it to be.” He asks if they can have lunch sometime, because he’s sure that if he acts really sincere he’ll eventually convince her to become his mistress. But Rachel’s too smart, and walks away.

At the Draper’s, Betty reads a bedtime story to her kids, which ends with a grand wedding. Sally is so freaking cute. Bobby is ok. I saw on imdb that 3 different actors are credited for Robert Draper, and I don’t think any of them are twins. Kind of odd, right? Also, Betty makes her kids go to bed before it’s dark outside, which is just mean. She leaves them alone to go walk the new Golden Retriever dog, which takes her right past Helen Bishop’s house. On the porch is a man, pounding the door and yelling for her to open up. He sees Betty and asks to use her phone, explaining, “I’m her husband. I’m supposed to see my kids and I know she’s in there.” Betty shows an unprecedented awareness of basic safety when she tells him no, she doesn’t let strange men into her home. Helen’s evil ex is dumbfounded, and Betty leaves quickly, probably glad to have a dog with her.

Later that night, the doorbell rings and Betty answers, wearing this great floaty nightie and robe. She looks great, but won’t it get totally twisted around her body when she sleeps? Sometimes I spend a lot of time thinking about how uncomfortable old-fashioned sleepwear must have been. Anyway, at the door is Helen Bishop, who apologizes and says, “I’m so embarrassed.” Helen pretends she doesn’t know what Helen’s talking about, because in her world these things are ignored, not discussed. Helen calls her on it, and admits that she was listening at the window. She says that she did let her ex-husband in eventually, and that “he’s not a bad man.” There’s a pause as Helen looks at the floor, and Betty finally asks her to come in and have some coffee.

The two women are smoking on the couch as Helen observes it’s ironic that her husband wants to see the kids all the time now, while when they were married he was always at work. She adds, “but if he does die then I’m set!” Now that’s classy. Although I will admit that yesterday I was thinking about whether, if my parents died, I’d be rich from the life insurance and selling the house and everything, or poor from having no clue about practical finances. But, you know, I felt bad afterwards. Betty asks what happened, and Helen explains: her husband worked in Manhattan, and “he had a lot of friends in the city… turned out none of them were men.” It’s hard to tell whether this is hitting as close to home as it should for Betty. Betty clarifies that she meant, “tonight, what happened?” Helen doesn’t answer, but observes that her husband is madder than she is, probably because her lawyer “hammered the hell out of him.” Betty is, as always, uncomfortable talking about such indelicate things, and tells Helen she’s always loved her house. There’s the sound of a door opening in the background, and Don enters. He says hello to both women, and looks a little peeved at the girltalk going on in his living room. After he leaves, Betty explains, “he has to go upstairs and have complete quiet for a while. He works so hard.” Or maybe he just really dislikes talking to you, Betty.

Elsewhere, Pete is in a living room where all the furniture is covered with white sheets. It’s his parents house—do they live in an abandoned building or do they just want to be able to make ghost costumes at a moment’s notice? Pete stares into his drink as his dad makes small talk and displays a disturbing amount of leg below his plaid short-shorts. I swear, I cannot stop staring at Pete’s dad’s thighs! But I should be respectful, since I read that this actor died sometime recently in an avalanche (seriously). Pete’s mom enters and says she hopes that Pete and Trudie will be visiting them at their summer home, but Pete says he’s not sure if he’ll be able to take the time off work. Mr. Campbell starts rambling that he still doesn’t understand what Pete does, how he can call going to restaurants and clubs working: “taking people out to dinner; wining and whoring. No job for a white man.” Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s appropriate for any man to be showing that much thigh. Also, will there ever be a TV character who is NOT revealed to have had a bad dad that is the source of all his issues and flaws? Pete tries to convince his dad that there’s more to advertising than that, but Papa Campbell doesn’t buy it. Pete says, sounding a little self-satisfied, that he can’t explain how business works to his dad, the subtext being, I assume, that his dad did nothing but live off his family’s old money.

Pete changes the subject to the apartment Trudie showed him earlier, and it’s on 83rd and Park if you want to go visit. Pete says that it’s kind of expensive, and “we’re going to need help with the down payment.” His tone basically states that he fully expects a handout from his parents, and that he’s perfectly right to ask. Papa Short Shorts flat out refuses, saying it’s not a good idea. Pete says, “You thought it was a good idea when Bud hit that girl on her bike in Montauk last summer. What did that cost?” Heh! For some reason that totally reminds me of Ted Kennedy driving his car off a bridge, which I also find funnier than I probably should. If it turns out that Pete has a sister who the family accidentally lobotomized, I will never stop laughing. Mama Campbell looks upset and walks off, and Mr. Thigh says, “I presume it’s your profession that is responsible for this lapse in your manners.” Pete says that he’ll pay the money back, and when that doesn’t help he asks, “why is it so hard for you people to give me anything?” Legs Campbell says, “We gave you everything. We gave you your name. And what have you done with it?” Eh, Campbell’s not such a great name, unless their family is heir to the Campbell Soup fortune. One thing I really appreciate about Gossip Girl is how realistic the rich people last names are: Archibald, Waldorf, Van der Woodsen? Those are primo rich people last names.

Later that night, Pete is undressing in his very small bedroom. Trudie enters (wearing frilly bloomers!), and asks about his visit to his parents. He lies that he didn’t bring up the expensive apartment because his dad’s been “having some health problems.” Trudie asks what’s wrong, and Pete replies that “nobody knows,” while his look says, “Well, I’m about to murder him in his sleep, so he’s probably stressed out about what a psychopath he raised.”

The next day, Pete brings a client, Walter, into a meeting with Don and Salvatore. He’s the owner of a steel company, and Don’s pitch is that the America’s great cities are “brought to you by Bethlehem Steel.” Walter thinks the style of the ads are too plain. Aw, no love for Salvatore? He says that “these ads feel like ads for cities. You’re making our company look like a middleman for another product.” Don gets a little pissy about the dismissal of his ideas, but Pete is on Walter’s side. “Walter, if this does not meet your expectations, I’m sure Don can find something that does.” He asks Walter to stay in town another night, maybe see a Broadway show like Bye Bye Birdie (confession: senior year of high school I was telephone girl #3 in my school’s production of Bye Bye Birdie, and I was totally awesome). Walter says, “I don’t like birds,” but agrees to come back.

Don suggests Salvatore walk Walter out (these guys are really into walking people out; are the Sterling Cooper offices especially maze-like?) so he can lay the smackdown on Pete. Pete says he could sense that Walter was a “second time guy,” but Don thinks that Walter was sentences away from approving the ads. I have to disagree, Don. Don blames Pete for not “preparing” Walter to like the idea, and Pete apologizes for not “lowering his expectations enough.” Don tells Pete to do his client-schmoozing thing and “leave the ideas to me,” and Pete very prissily states, “I have ideas.” Yeah, but Sterling Cooper’s clients probably don’t need Pete’s ideas on how to become as close as physically possible to becoming a weasel. Unless, of course, someone’s selling weasel food. Don says, “I’m sure you do. Sterling Cooper has more failed artists and intellectuals than the Third Reich.” Oh yeah, Don just played the Nazi card! Pete tells him his ideas are good, and “direct marketing! I thought of that! Turned out it already existed, but I arrived at it independently.” Uh, that might not be the best example to plead your case. “And then I come to this place and you tell me that I’m good with people, which is strange, because I never heard that before.” Even Pete knows he’s a dick.

At the Draper’s, Don is lying on the couch looking at the ad designs that Walter dismissed, and Betty is making dinner when the phone rings. It’s Helen Bishop, and she wants to go help stuff envelopes for Kennedy tonight but her sitter backed out. Helen is preparing powdered milk, for some reason… gross. Betty is hesitant, but finally agrees to come over and that, “I guess Don can watch the kids.” She seems a little scared that Don’s going to run off and buy another dog as soon as she turns her back, and I don’t blame her.

Betty arrives at Helen’s, and the latter apologizes for the mess and the former says, “It’s charming.” Betty’s not such a good liar. I expect her to whip out a sketch pad so when she meets up with Francine to gossip they have more to criticize. Creepy Glen Munster is at the piano, playing poorly. I read that the actor playing Glen is actually the son of one of the main producers, which is good for him since unless they do a Munsters: The Next Generation movie, I don’t see him working much after this show. Helen tells Glen to be good for Betty, and “no ironing.” Apparently Glen loves to iron. Creepy! And now we know for certain that Glen is a freakshow, because he’s not conforming to gender norms.

As Helen gets ready to leave, Betty tells her she looks nice, and “there must be a lot of nice men there.” Helen says that it’s mostly women, because “have you seen the candidate?” Betty’s like, “Have you seen my husband? Kennedy and his lock-jaw can’t compete with Don.” Well, she actually says that while JFK is handsome, “we’re not sure who we’re voting for.” In other words, Don hasn’t told her who she’s voting for yet. Helen takes off, and Glen plots all the different ways he’s going to distract Betty so he can suck her blood.

Pete is having dinner with Trudie and her parents at a fancy restaurant. Trudie’s dad is going on about what a sweet job Pete must have, and Pete says the same thing he said to his dad earlier, that there’s “slightly more to it than that.” But since Trudie’s dad is wearing full length pants, Pete says it with a smile. Trudie brings up the apartment, and Pete tries to get her to drop it by saying that it’s still out of their price range. Trudie isn’t giving up and starts giving the specs on the place (ooh, it has a terrace!) to her parents. When she tells them the price her father frowns and says, “I don’t know... I’ll have to look into it.” Trudie looks shocked at him not immediately writing a check for $30,000, but then her dad starts laughing and Trudie thanks him for continuing to cater to her every whim. Pete’s less pleased, and says, “Tom, it’s very generous for you to even consider it, but I think we’d rather wait.” Trudie’s like, “How about you wait and I live there alone until you’re ready?” Trudie’s dad tells him there’s no point in waiting, and that’ll he’ll be “a rich bastard” on his own someday. He explains that it’s an “investment for me, in you. Oh, and my jellybean, too, of course.” Jellybean? Vomit. Trudie gives Pete the most insufferable look (guys, I hate her so much I want to push her off a terrace), and Pete finally agrees. Trudie’s thrilled to have fully squashed her husband’s pride in order to get a bomb apartment.

Later, in the back seat of a cab (or a chauffeured car or something), Trudie’s like, “We should get married,” and Pete’s turns off his Walkman playing the new George Michael and is all, “No, I can’t take the time off work,” and she says, “You hate that job anyway. Why don’t you just quit?” and he says, “Because I…want…to…fit…in.” Ok, well actually Trudie just gloats about the apartment some more, then realizes Pete’s not exactly thrilled to be taking handouts from his wife’s parents. His own parents, though, that’s cool. He tells her that it’s a lot of money, and “I’m not sure what it means.” Is he going to have to go to work for Trudie’s dad as a hitman, like Jin on Lost? Because I think, subconsciously, the reason I can’t stop connecting American Psycho to this show is because there’s way less blood than I think there should be. There’s emotional violence aplenty, but where are the chainsaws? Pete explains that if he had gotten money from his parents it would be different, since, “it’s my money, I’ll get it eventually.” Trudie counters that this is her money, and it makes her father feel good to help. Pete looks at her for the first time this entire scene to ask, “What about me?” She flips it back: “What about meeee?” I do have to concede that their bedroom was pretty tiny and shabby-looking. Pete looks away from her again and says bitterly, “You always get what you want, don’t you?” Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!

Back at Helen’s Divorcee Den, Betty and Glen are watching tv, sitting as far away from each other as possible on the couch. She excuses herself to use the bathroom, which means high level snooping. Anyone who says they’ve never been tempted to rifle through someone else’s medicine cabinet is a liar. Betty hits the jackpot when she finds Helen’s birth control pills, but she drops it quickly and closes the drawer. No, Betty, you have to see how many are left so you can calculate her cycle and then sic a bear on her! Betty sits down on the toilet but is quickly interrupted by Glen the Creeper. She tells him twice to get out, but he just stands there watching her pee. Finally she has to get up and waddle to the door, closing it as she says, “What is wrong with you? This room is occupied!” Glen’s like, “Hey, I’m a child of divorce. Give me a break.”

Glen’s back on the couch when Betty comes out of the bathroom. She turns off the TV and says, “What do you have to say for yourself?” He says nothing—had he had any lines so far this episode? Betty grabs his arm and tells him, “You know better than to walk in on someone like that. That room is private.” She eventually convinces him to apologize (Glen speaks!), and after she forgives him Glen launches towards her neck, fangs bared. No, wait, false alarm, Glen just goes and hugs her, but in a creepy, “How close can I get my head to your boob?” way. He tells her she’s pretty, and asks how old she is. Betty asks, “Well, I’m the same age as your mother. How old is your mother?” Real sneaky, Betty. After learning that Helen is 32, Betty practically pumps her fist in the air and then does a victory lap around the room, because she’s only 28.

Glen keeps hitting on Betty, and says, “Your hair is so beautiful. You look like a princess.” Betty demurs, and Glen asks, “Can I have some?” He’s totally staring at her boobs when it says it, and I swear the first time I watched this episode I thought he wanted her to breastfeed him. It’s only slightly less creepy, though, that what he really wants is a lock of her hair. She says no at first, but it doesn’t take too much more convincing from Glen for her to find a pair of scissors and cut a little piece from the back of her neck. Ew, Betty, no! I know she feels bad for creepy Glen, with his slutty mother and absentee dad, but she is totally encouraging his lack of boundary issues! Plus, you know that bit of hair is going to become the centerpiece of Glen’s Betty shrine, and his fixation on her will be all over the news when Glen finally explodes the neighborhood cat or something. But I should get off my high horse because one time, in high school, this girl in my drama class went around and convinced everyone to let her cut off a little bit of their hair, and she collected it all in an empty butter container. I refused at first, but everyone else gave her a few strands, so I caved. And then afterwards I looked at the clump of various people’s hair that she had collected and mixed together, and it looked like the hairball you pull out of the shower drain, and I felt pretty gross about myself.

At a bar in Manhattan, Pete brings two fancy ladies (escorts?) over to hang out with him, Walter, and Draco Malfoy. Walter is happy to stare at the blonde’s chest for the whole night, but Pete wants to share his ideas about the steel campaign. His slogan is “Bethlehem Steel: the backbone of America.” Walter thinks that Pete is making a pitch for Don, and tells Pete he doesn’t want to discuss business when there are young girls to molest and buy drinks for.

Betty is sitting on the couch reading about Italy (remember when she said she spent the summer there after graduating from college?) when Helen comes home. Betty doesn’t mention the bathroom trespass or the hair cutting, and accepts a pamphlet on Kennedy, who looks kind of deformed in the picture on the front.

When she goes home, Don is asleep with a notepad resting on his stomach. Betty takes it look at the rough drawing of an ad that reads “New York: Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.” The image fades out, and is replaced by Salvatore’s professional artwork in the office the next day. Walter remains unimpressed (and it is basically the exact same thing with slightly different words), and Don tries to convince him that it gets across the idea that “from the acorn that is Bethlehem Steel comes American’s great cities.” What a poet, Don is. Walter thinks that this pitch is just a front for the “backbone of American” slogan, and says, “Campbell pitched it to me last night, and I like it.” Don and Salvatore exchange looks that read, “Oh, we are going to have a cut a bitch.” Walter says he not only likes the idea, but also likes that Don was “so enthusiastic about the idea you couldn’t wait to tell me.” I think it’s telling that despite all the evidence, Walter still thinks it’s Don’s idea because it’s so out of line for a junior exec (I think Pete is an account manager or something?) to pitch an idea of his own. As Walter says this, Pete looks down and tries not to gloat too hard.

The meeting ends and Walter exits, leaving Pete to face his boss. Don tells him “nice work,” and to enjoy his good idea. Pete doesn’t know when to turn tail and run, and tells Don, “I think I did something good and you got the compliment for it.” Don looks hard as steel as he tells Pete, “I need you to go get a cardboard box… and go put your things in it.” Don walks out, and Salvatore gets his bitch on: “You picked the wrong time to buy an apartment.”

Pete walks through the office looking ready to either puke or start throwing grenades. The Mad Boys are in his office again listening to the comedy record; he screams at them to get out, then throws the Bob Newhart record out the door after them. In Slattery’s office, Don storms in and says, “Remember Pete Campbell’s last day? It’s today.” Don recaps the last 20 minutes and Slattery agrees he’s a “little shit.” I agree, too. Back in Pete’s office, the drinking portion of his pity party has begun. And the crying!

Betty’s on the therapist’s couch again, and is discussing Helen and her single mother life: her little job, her frozen food, her deranged son. Betty says, “She tries to put on a brave face. Honestly, I think she’s jealous of me; I’ve seen it before, I was in a sorority.” Can I just tell you all to start watching Greek? I know, it’s a stupid little show on ABC Family, but it’s also sort of totally awesome. There’s a marathon of the second season on all day tomorrow (Monday the 23rd), plus you can get the pilot and the first season finale for free on iTunes, and the second season premieres tomorrow night. Back to Betty, she’s all “I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me... but I can't help it that I'm so popular.” She also thinks that Glen is the one who needs help, and “the person taking care of him isn’t giving him what he needs.” A stake to the heart?

At Sterling Cooper, Slattery and Don prepare to go into Cooper’s office by taking off their shoes. Apparently this is due to Cooper having a big Asian thing, as evidenced by the art all over his office. Slattery notices a picture of a little boy in a sailor suit sitting on an older man’s lap; apparently it’s an old photo of Slattery and Cooper. Are they related? Maybe Slattery is Cooper’s nephew? Anyway, Slattery tells Cooper that Pete Campbell is fired and “it can’t be avoided.” Cooper disagrees, and starts in on a long-winded analogy comparing New York to a tightly wound watch. He pauses and asks what Don knows about Pete’s family. He says, “Nothing, except that they put out a mediocre product.” Don probably hates Campbell soup because he didn’t get enough love as a child. Cooper explains that Pete’s mother is a Dykeman, the family that owned a good part of Manhattan. When I saw this part and remembered the title I realized, Pete’s family are Knickerbockers! Cooper continues that the Dykeman’s lost most of their money in the Great Depression, but he still doesn’t want “Dorothy Dykeman Campbell standing at the dock at Fisher’s Island this summer talking about how poorly Sterling Cooper treated her son.” If these people met her son, they might not be so easily influenced. Bottom line is that Pete provides access to all these high-society people and places, so it’s a “marquee issue.” Don pouts that it seems like Pete is worth more to the company than he is, so Cooper and Slattery start rubbing his back and murmuring soothing compliments. Don acquiesces to Cooper’s wishes, and Cooper stands up and says, “there you go! I’m glad we’re all better now,” like he just gave Don a shot but since he was a good boy he also gets a lollipop. There’s nothing like being condescended to by a man without shoes.

Pete’s lying on his couch, his things in a box at his feet. I’m a little disappointed he’s not in the fetal position on the floor under his desk, to be honest. Don and Slattery storm in, and Slattery gets with the speechgiving: “What you did was totally unacceptable, and I want you to be very clear about this. You were fired, I wanted you out, Cooper wanted you out, and you would be if it weren’t for [Don].” Oh, Slattery, well played. “He thought you deserved another chance. That’s right, he fought for you.” Don looks a little uncomfortable at this, and Pete is practically licking Don’s shoes in gratitude. Slattery finishes, “You are here because of Don Draper’s largesse. Now, I know that your generation went to college instead of serving so I’ll illuminate you: this man is your commanding officer. You live, and die, in his shadow. Understood?” Interesting to compare this to Pete telling Don in the first episode that he’s follow him into battle blindfolded, and Don knowing it was bullshit and blowing him off. Pete looks about ready to start saluting and tells Don, “I won’t let you down.” Slattery, who’s halfway out the door, stops and says, “Jesus, Campbell, don’t ever say that!” The Mad Men leave, and Pete sinks back onto the couch looking like a little boy in someone else’s suit.

Don and Slattery are boozing it up in Don’s office, as they do. Slattery remarks that being able to drink on the job probably “attracts more people to advertising than any salary.” Don says, “that’s why I got in.” Slattery notices, though, that Don doesn’t enjoy drinking. He tells him, “My generation, we drank because it’s good, because it feels better than unbuttoning your color, because we deserve it. You drink because it’s what men do.” Don brings up shaky hands due to alcoholism, and Slattery says, “no kidding. Your kind with your gloomy thoughts and your worries, you’re all busy licking some imaginary wound.” Don tells him that they’re not all imaginary, and Slattery downs the rest of his drink and says, “boo hoo.” Don tells him, “Maybe I’m not as comfortable with being powerless as you are.” Slattery’s like, what the hell does that mean? He tells Don, “You shouldn’t compete with Pete Campbell… Yeah, you are. Not on a personal level, but for the world.” Don looks thoughtful, and Slattery says, “I don’t know, maybe every generation thinks the next one is the end of it all. I bet there are people in the Bible, walking around complaining about ‘kids today.’” Don adds, “Kids today, they have no one to look up to. Because they’re looking up to us.” I think Don and Slattery’s point would be much more effectively conveyed by a rousing encore of the “What’s the Matter with Kids Today?” from Bye Bye Birdie.

Trudie is back in the apartment, discussing with the realtor things to do with the back room. Pete is walking around the background, looking not unhappy with their future home. Soon a neighbor enters, a stereotypically Old New York society lady wearing multiple strands of pearls, and behind her are Trudie’s parents. Everyone introduces him or herself, and Old NY lady asks Pete, “You mother-in-law was telling me that your great, great grandfather was a farmer with Isaac Roosevelt, is that right?” Don’t ask me who Isaac Roosevelt is, and why someone would be impressed with his farming, and why this is a the first thing you would want to ask a person you just met. Pete confirms it, and the women get all in a tizzy about Pete’s ancestor being buried at some church and a “Dykeman living in the building.” Trudie wants Pete to tell the story about his “great, great-aunt getting in a fight with the British soldier and the Hussein,” but Pete tells her to tell it for him. Oh, to be rich enough to be ambivalent about being part of an important family. Boo hoo. Pete walks to the opposite side of the room, and Rosemary Clooney (I think) starts singing as he looks with resentment at his wife holding court. He then looks out the window at his amazing view of Manhattan, all black and silver at night. And then he jumps out the window!

Just kidding.

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Dogs: Girl's Best Friend or Inadequate Substitute for Fathers?

In the third episode of Mad Men, "The Marriage of Figaro," Don lays the charm on Rachel Menken at work and attempts to ruin his daughter's birthday party at home. Plus, opera music!

Previously: Pete came by Peggy’s for a late night booty call, Don and Rachel Menken fought and then flirted, Betty saw a shrink because she’s a sad, empty woman, and Slattery had a raging man crush on Don (but, you know, who doesn’t?).

Snazzy credits, then we open on Don, sitting on a train, staring at an ad for a Volkswagon Beetle that reads “Lemon.” A heavyset man walks by, then stops and says to Don, “Dick? Richard Witman? Holy smokes, is that you?” The guy, Larry, introduces himself and it seems he thinks they were in the army together. Don stares and looks a little confused, then goes along with the guy and tells Larry he works upstate. Larry is very friendly, even giving Don his card and tells him they should catch up. Don says “absolutely” in that tone you use when you know something is never, ever gonna happen (for example, when my roommate says, “I think I’m going to wake up at 6 tomorrow and go to the gym before class,” and I say, “Absolutely.”). Larry finally leaves, and Don looks confused and unsettled. It seems weird to me for Don to be so passive and let the guy think he’s someone else, but this whole episode is, in a nutshell, “You Don’t Know Don Draper.” Or, as an alternate title, “Dads Do the Darnedest Things!”

At Sterling Cooper, the Mad Boys file into an elevator and then enthusiastically greet Pete, back from his honeymoon in Niagara Falls. They immediately ask for details on the sex, and Pete pretends he’s a gentleman by saying, “We are talking about my wife here.” Pete gives a little spiel about how during the ceremony he felt like he became a new, calmer man and Harry retorts, “So, what you’re saying is, a lot of missionary?” As the Mad Boys get off the elevator and enter the office, everyone greets Pete and welcomes him back—aka, they act way more friendly than anyone should to Pete. He heads to his office and sees… a Chinaman! A whole China family and their chicken! Eating food with chopsticks and wearing funny hats! This is now the gold standard for which all other pranks will be judged. I mean, has Jim Halpert ever snuck a Chinaman into Dwight Shrute’s temporary workspace? Pete quickly shuts the door and everyone laughs as he says, “Who put the Chinaman in my office?” Aw, it’s nice (and kind of surprising) that he can take a joke.

Don arrives at work and goes right into a meeting with the Mad Boys. The product is laxatives, and they make a lot of “blocked” jokes that can’t even compare to the Chinaman jokes. Salvatore says they should be funny, like those “Volkswagon people.” Volkswagon is this week’s Reader’s Digest. Don hates both the ad and the car, but they agree it must be working. Slattery enters the office and tells them, “I want the Chinaman out of the building by lunch.” Don: “I’m still waiting on my shirts!” See? Way better than the constipation jokes.

Outside the office, Betty smiles and glows as Pete walks up to her desk. They talk a bit about the meeting Pete’s supposed to be in, and then he awkwardly brings up their little pre-wedding liaison. He reminds her he’s married, and she tells him she understands and “it never happened.” But she looks awfully disappointed, like she thought she would become his glamorous, Midge-style mistress. Aw, poor dumb Peggy.

In Don’s office, everyone’s still talking about the Volkswagon ad, although there’s a split opinion on whether it’s brilliant or stupid. Don smartly observes, “Love it or hate it, the fact remains we’ve been talking about it for the last fifteen minutes.” It seems that only Don recognizes that this one ad could bring about a new trend in advertising that’ll change the whole business. Anyway, Don adjourns the meeting when the Mad Boys admit they have no ideas for the laxative campaign. Everyone leaves but Pete, who tells Don he misses him (and is an enormous suck-up who is only happy when trying to claw his way into a superior’s favor). Don softens a little and asks how married life is. Pete makes like Opie and says, “It’s pretty swell. Trudie’s a lot funnier than I thought; I’m actually looking forward to going home tonight.” Pete proposes the two of them go out with their wives, and Don pulls out a little different version of the “never gonna happen” yes; this one is a little more aggressively dismissive than the one on the train.

Peggy and Joan head to the breakroom, where Joan gives Lady Chatterley’s Lover to one of the operator girls from whom she borrowed it. They giggle over their literary smut, and one of the women ask Peggy if she’s read it. Joan intervenes, saying, “I don’t think that’s a good idea… there’s [holds book open] this word in it a lot.” Damn, now I’m curious what word she’s referring to. Some of the tags on Amazon are “dead souls and dark alleys” and “magic carpet ride” (is that some kind of old-fashioned freaky sex thing?), and you can also search for similar books by the subjects “adultery” and “gamekeepers.” Joan goes on that the book is a testament to how “most people think that marriage is a joke.” The operator agrees, “It’s a fantasy. He’s married, she’s married… the desperate passion of the forbidden!” Gee, I wonder why Peggy wants to borrow it? Joan jokes about how the really good parts are so well-read that the book just falls open to those pages, and I am having the hugest flashbacks to sixth grade and passing around a copy of Judy Blume’s Forever. Geez, that book is filthy, but in such an unsexy, Judy Blume sort of way.

In the boardroom, Rachel Menken makes her triumphant return in a bright pink dress and awesome hat that’s kind of like a feathery pink disc on the crown of her head. She looks fierce. Don reintroduces Pete, Ken and Paul, plus a research man who’s not the German bitch we met in the first episode but a British guy. Do they only let the foreigners do research? The Brit presents his findings on some competing departments stores, but Rachel is more interested in eye fucking Don than listening (and c’mon, who wouldn’t?). Pete takes note of the silent flirting. The Brit goes on about creating a spacious feel, personal attention to the customer, minimal amount of merchandise on the floor. Rachel is impressed at the thoroughness of their research on other stores, but can tell that none of them know shit about Menken’s. All the Mad Boys lie poorly, and Don mans up and tells her, “I can assure you that no one at this table has been to your store, a wrong I will personally correct this afternoon.” Rachel, and everyone in the world, is impressed at his smoothness. She gets up and Pete volunteers to walk her out, but Don cuts in and says he’ll do it.

They walk through the halls as Rachel notes that it’s hard to get caught in a lie. Don tells her, “Well, it wasn’t a lie. It was… ineptitude with insufficient cover.” Rachel laughs in the patented, “Oh my god, you’re so funny, when are you going to rip my clothes off!?” way that girls do. But I do like the way they banter, it’s very charming in that screwball comedy sort of way. For instance, as they’re saying goodbye a chicken, left behind by the Chinaman, walks by and, off Rachel’s look, Don tells her, “new junior exec.”

Elsewhere in the office, Pete asks Harry what the deal was with Don and Rachel flirting. I want to know why she came all the way to their offices for a three minute meeting. It’s like how in tv shows set in high school, the bell will ring about 60 seconds after any scene set in a classroom, so the unattractive, old teacher can step aside and let James van der Beek take the spotlight. Anyway, Pete says, “Everyone always jokes about it, but I’ve never seen Draper turn that switch on.” That’s a good way to describe it—Don is definitely doesn’t have the charm turned on when dealing with his wife. Harry unwraps a lollipop during the conversation, explaining that he’s trying to quit smoking. Wholesome Harry may have just become my favorite character. He explains to Pete that even though he’s married, when he’s out in the world he does the “flirting, double entendres,” and Pete looks suspiciously interested when he asks, “You mean something on the side?” Harry corrects him: “No, I mean enjoying the company of women in the limited way a married man can.” No joke, Harry is classy. I’m hoping that he’ll become the moral center of the show and go around giving sage advice to everyone in the office. Harry says that doing that is plenty for him, and Pete agrees that he’s the same. Oh, you’ve figured this out after two weeks of marriage? Pete’s such a snot. He says that he figured Draper was the same way, and Harry says, “Draper? Who knows anything about that guy? No one’s lifted that rock. He could be Batman for all we know.” Hands down, this was the best line of the episode.

As a capper to the scene, Pete’s wife calls to ask what he wants for dinner. I’ll give him credit for telling her exactly what he wants (ribeye, with butter in the pan, with ice cream for dessert, in case you want to cook dinner for the Pete Campbell in your life). As someone who’s habitually indecisive, I approve of Pete’s ability to come up with a meal off the top of his head. He says he loves her, and after hanging up, marvels, “There’s going to be dinner waiting when I get home.” Studies have shown that the number 1 reason people get married is because they’re sick of cooking for themselves.

Don get out of a cab in front of Menken’s and meets Rachel in the lobby. He notices that she changed her outfit—the outrageous pink suit and feather hat have been replaced by a tan jacket and skirt and smooth, shiny hair. Boys, let me tell you, a really easy way to win points with a girl is to notice when she wears more than one outfit over the course of a day. It’s even better than noticing haircuts. As she leads Don into the building, telling him the history of the store, I see that underneath the boring suit she’s wearing a leopard print top. Hell yes. Anyway, Don notes that the store is crowded, but that probably is due to the sale. He explains that this means, “if we’re successful, you’re going to have to lose the customers you have in order to get the customers you want.” She’s ok with this, but says her father wasn’t happy with the idea of raising prices. I really hope that we get to meet Papa Menken at some point. Also, since the characters on this show are so obsessed with ethnic stereotypes, I think it’s really interesting that the one Jewish character is trying to embody “expensive,” not “cheap.”

Rachel takes Don over to a jewelry counter selling cufflinks. She noticed that one of his fell off during the earlier meeting, and so she picks out a new pair for him: tiny, silver medieval knights. She puts them on for him, and it’s slightly intimate and very hot. Next Rachel and Don go to the second floor, which I guess is the bedding department. There are multiple beds with teddy bears on top, plus a saleswoman asleep in a chair (since the room is deserted). Has anyone not had a fantasy about having sex in a department store? I just hope Rachel and Don wake the saleswoman up and make her leave first. Rachel says she’s always liked how quiet it is up there, but Don criticizes the dark, old-fashioned atmosphere that obviously isn’t drawing customers.

Back to Sterling Cooper, the Mad Boys and Girls are getting ready to leave for the day. A random secretary asks Pete, who’s walking out, if he wants to join the group who are going to someplace called “Lanski’s.” He tells her he has plans, starts to go, but then pauses before passing Peggy. He looks her up and down and tells her, “You look nice,” before walking off with a supremely self-satisfied look on his face. Oh, man, Pete is such an idiot. He is obviously thinking to himself, “Look at how good I am at being married! I can even give a compliment to the girl I screwed before the wedding, and it doesn’t mean anything because I’m a happily married man! How swell!” And Peggy’s thinking, “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” With three words, Pete mind-fucked Peggy harder than anyone’s ever been mind-fucked before. She’s going to spend the next 3 weeks replaying those words in her mind on a continuous loop, wondering what he meant and if he’s still interested and how she can get him to compliment her again. Pete thinks he just solved a problem, but he just made it so much worse. Pete is so, so dumb. Peggy watches Pete go looking like she’s going to explode.

At Menken’s, Rachel takes Don up to her favorite part of the store: the roof. He marvels at the view, but she only wants to see the security dogs, which are kept in cages outdoors. She greets the German Shepherds (I think that’s the breed—if I’m wrong then I’m blaming it on the poor lighting) and sticks her face right up to the cage. Don’s like, “If she starts kissing the dog there’s no way we’re making out.” Rachel introduces the dogs as Fortinbras and Pemberley—oh, no, those are my imaginary German Shepherds. Rachel’s are Carla and Leona, “the third-generation, and ‘what every generation of Menken dogs shall be named until the end of time.’ I made my father’s legal counsel add that to the store’s bylaws when I was nine.” Don teases her, “so even then you enjoyed telling men what to do.” She defends herself by launching into tonight’s performance of Bad Dad Theater: “To be fair the store was practically home. My father liked to work. I used to come out here and talk to them, well, the originals, every night. For a little girl, a dog can be all you need. They protect you, they listen.” She explains that her mom died while giving birth to her, and her older sister was poorer company than the dogs. You know, I’m a huge dog lover, but it’s never a good sign when a person substitutes the love of a dog for the company of other humans. Don sees her emotional vulnerability (and is that a glimmer of crazy eyes I see on her?) and asks, “What is this? Don’t try to convince me that you were ever unloved.” Shit, that’s a really good line—the authoritative tone, the subtext that she’s so incredible that those around her can’t help but adore her. Smooth, Draper, very smooth.

He touches her chin and goes in for the kiss—another big fantasy is definitely making out on the roof of a Manhattan building, although preferably not while a bunch of German Shepherds are watching. When they break, Rachel breathily tells him, “I don’t know what to say.” Don is obviously feeling a little guilty at doing the seduction thing that comes so naturally to him, and fesses up that he’s married. He moves back a little as he says, “It shouldn’t have happened,” and Rachel bitterly says, “But you couldn’t help yourself.” Don tries to keep the romance going, and says, “I knew what I wanted since the first time you stormed out of my office.” “YOU stormed out of your office,” she says, obviously not having it. Don’s motives are debatable, but I think he’d be willing to take Rachel as his second mistress, or maybe use Rachel to replace Psycho Midge. Rachel’s not interested, though, and says that she would rather not have to explain this, so some other employee at Sterling Cooper should be put in charge of her account. He looks at her, either disappointed at not being able to see her anymore or by losing her business, or both. She says, “Don’t look at me like that. What do you do, just kiss women all the time, women you aren’t married to?” Uh, yeah, pretty much. He tells her, “Of course not,” and she says, “So what am I supposed to do, just live some life running alongside yours?” He doesn’t reply, and Rachel lamely excuses herself by saying she has some checks to sign. If this were a French farce instead of a classy period drama, Rachel would then release the guard dogs, find someway to steal Don’s clothes, and then lock him on the roof.

Don is on the train again, heading home. He looks exhausted and defeated as he finds a seat and closes his eyes. The conductor comes up and hands him a newspaper he says Don dropped. Don looks a little confused but take it and… scene? If this were a German spy thriller there’d be some sort of secret mission hidden in the paper and Don would have to assassinate someone while wearing a trench coat.

The next day, Betty is walking around her and Don’s bedroom with curlers in her hair. I’m hoping for a close-up so I can figure out how to make my hair as fabulously Grace Kelly-esque as hers. Don’s asleep in bed as his daughter, Sally, runs in, yelling, “Daddy, daddy wake up! It’s my birthday!” He cutely grabs her and Don and Betty establish that today is their daughter’s birthday party, and Don has to put together a playhouse beforehand. Betty appears to be making the bed, despite Don still being under the covers, and as she walks out she tells him there’s a bacon and egg sandwich waiting for ham sandwich in the kitchen. Sometimes I wish Betty as my wife; I’d appreciate her a lot more than Don does. As to prove my point, Don looks unappreciative and glances at the medieval knight cufflinks on his nightstand.

Next, Don is in the backyard, dressed all in brown like the UPS man, trying to figure out how to put together the playhouse. There’s a little montage of him struggling to build the house and drinking multiple beers. It’s a little weird to see him not wearing a suit and drinking whiskey. The kids run outside to marvel at their new fake house, and Don sends his daughter to get him yet another beer.

Inside, Betty is making appetizers with her pregnant friend, Francine. They go over who’s coming to the party: Francine and her husband Carlton, the Darlings, Helen Bishop, the scandalous divorcee. Francine is shocked at Betty invited her, and asks, “Have you seen her walking up there on Tree Ridge? Where the hell is she walking to?” Betty doesn’t know, but she can share the information that Helen Bishop’s son is 9 and her daughter is 2. The women walk over to the window to see Don, in his undershirt, screwing part of the playhouse in. Francine practically drools as she says, “That man…” Betty, and the rest of the world (I realize I’ve made similar comments like twice already in this recap alone, but he’s Don Draper, I can’t resist), agrees.

Don gets what is at least his fourth beer, and then we cut to the bathroom. Thank you, Mad Men producers, for spending valuable air time showing Don Draper pulling up his zipper, flushing the toilet, and then washing his hands. He faces that eternal fancy bathroom conundrum of, Do you use the shell-shaped soap and guest towels and then mess them up? Smartly, Don wipes his hands on his shirt. Out in the kitchen, he reassures Betty that the powder room will “look untouched,” and she tells him to go take a shower before the guests arrive. Francine asks, “Want company?” and to Betty’s credit she doesn’t slap her friend for propositioning her husband, and to Don’s credit he doesn’t look horrified at being propositioned by his wife’s pregnant friend, who is wearing a muumuu. They all just laugh like the perfectly polite people they are.

Party time! Betty pours a good half bottle of Jack Daniels into the punch, so we all know why her parties are so popular. The adults stand around the dining room drinking, and the kids run around playing. There’s one kid, who I’m going to refer to as Tiny Tim whenever possible, who’s wearing braces on his legs and using crutches. I assume he has polo, but I’m not really an expert on old-fashioned diseases. Betty tells her guests that she didn’t manage to get a clown for the party, and the adults groans in disappointment. Geez, the 60’s really were like an alternate universe. One of the husbands, Henry, ask Don about a commercial they saw, and want to know if he was behind it. He wasn’t, and doesn’t look very interested in discussing advertising in his off time. Another man, Chet, tells a joke despite his wife’s protests: “Your wife and your lawyer are drowning. You have a choice to make: you go to lunch or a movie?” Yeah, really classy to say that in front of your spouse, dude. Don grimaces while everyone else laughs, then walks out of the room into the hallway. Francine’s husband, Carlton, follows him and asks about things on “Mad Ave,” observing that Don’s obviously making enough money and “we got it all, huh?” Don looks like he’s going to slit his wrists as he agrees, “Yep, this is it!” I love this show but these people’s lives are so, so depressing.

The wives are smoking in the kitchen, discussing Tiny Tim. Tiny Tim’s mother, Marilynn, says that it’s been hard on Jack, her husband, since he’s obsessed with sports. Betty tells her that Tiny Tim gets around very well, and Francine says, “I bet he doesn’t even know the difference!” Uh, he has polio, he’s not retarded. Tiny Tim’s mom corrects her testily that, “He does. He’s very determined.” They talk about the vaccine a little, and how Tiny Tim is lucky that his lungs were effected. The polio vaccine was licensed in 1962, so I guess that it was too late to prevent Tiny Tim from becoming, you know, Tiny Tim. The wives start to rag on their husbands’ lack of athletic ability that will be passed down to their sons, polio or no polio, when the doorbell rings.

Betty goes to answer it, and finds Helen Bishop, the divorcee. Helen is obviously nervous, and she’s wearing pants so we know she’s either a feminist or a ho, possibly both. Helen hands Betty the birthday present, and apologizes for the Christmas wrapping paper since they haven’t finished unpacking. Betty looks kind of horrified at this faux pas, but then pretends it’s fine by saying, “It should be Christmas all year, as far as I’m concerned!” She leads Helen into the living room, where Don is adjusting the radio dial, changing it from a news report on tax evasion to a performance of “The Marriage of Figaro.” Since that’s the name of this episode, I think some research is in order. It’s Mozart, a satire of the aristocracy, and takes place in a single day. There’s a Count, married to the countess, who’s in love with the girl who’s engaged to be married to his valet, and finally, according to Wikipedia, “a comic series of cases of mistaken identity results in the Count's humiliation and then forgiveness by the Countess.” Well, obviously Don, the Count of this show, is exploring infidelity, but I’m going to have to work on finding the deeper parallel between the opera and the episode.

Betty introduces Helen and her son Glen, who looks kind of like Eddie Munster—he’s one of those kids who’s naturally creepy and off-putting. Betty also reminds Don he has to go pick up the birthday cake, which seems like something he could have done before the party started but didn’t for dramatic reasons. All the men leer at Helen, mentally calculating the odds on getting into her very stylish red pants. When I first tried to recap this episode I had the hardest time figuring out everyone’s names, and as I watch this scene I realize it’s because when Betty says Carlton’s name Chet raises his glass, when she says Jack’s name Chet raises his glass, and Carlton doesn’t make any move at all. Plus, Henry (who asked Don about the commercial) and his wife seem to have disappeared and will be seen again only when it’s time for birthday cake (a party strategy that I totally support, actually).

A few minutes later, Betty catches Don in the hallway and asks him to take some movies. He asks, “Of everyone, or just Chief Tiny Tim?” Ladies and gentleman, the second best line of the episode!”

The husbands watch as Betty introduces Helen to the Marilynn, Nancy and Francine (do we even learn invisible Henry and his invisible wife’s name?) Carlton notes that Helen seems “scared, poor thing,” and Jack says, “Trust me, those hens are going to peck her to death.” They talk about her Volkswagon car, and Chet adds, “That won’t help her. It’s got no backseat; she’ll have to find some midget hitchhiker.” You know, I’d say that after you’ve had two kids it’s time to find some other place to have sex than the backseat of your car. Especially if you have a Volkswagon.

In the kitchen the wives are discussing Marilynn’s plans to go to Boca Raton with her family for Easter break, despite the giant mosquitos. Francine adds, “Believe me, those aren’t be the only giant noses you’re going to have to deal with.” Yes, casual prejudice! I had been feeling the lack of racial prejudice since the Chinaman left the office(I don’t think anyone made fun of Jewish Rachel Menken!), so thanks to Francine for helping this episode reach the necessary quota. She says that her and Carlton went to Boca Raton on their honeymoon, and, in an effort to include Helen, Betty asks her where she went. Awkward! Betty immediately apologizes for bringing up the ex-husband, but Helen gamely says she went to Paris, and she wouldn’t “give it back, even being with Glen’s father.” Nancy asks, “Was that your ex-husband?”, implying that Helen had Glen with a man other than the one she was married too. Sometimes I forget what stone-cold bitches women can be; this show is practically worse than Gossip Girl. Betty tries to bring the conversation into neutral territory by describing the trip she took to Italy the summer after graduating from Bryn Mawr, but Francine isn’t ready to retract her claws. To Helen she says, “You must have loved Paris. It’s all walking.” I’ve never heard the word “walking” used in such a pejorative way. Well, except following “street.” Helen doesn’t get it, and Francine says she’s seen Helen “walking” around the neighborhood, and Helen explains that she isn’t going anywhere, she just likes to walk, that it relaxes her and clears her mind. The women have already decided Helen is a streetwalker, and not even the mention of Einstein’s fondness of walking can change their minds.

Elsewhere in the house, Tiny Tim and the rest of the kids are running around and Don is recording it on his camcorder. The real action is intercut with the movie footage—grainy, washed-out, with classical music instead of laughter and footsteps. We get a nice long shot of Tiny Tim crutching his way across the room. Is there anyway I can get that clip and turn it into my screensaver? Don and his camcorder catch Helen entering the room, shielding her face with her hands in that annoying way self-conscious girls do. Don teases her, “What are you, Frank Sinatra?” Carlton offers to take her to find creepy Glen, the lost Munster child, and Don turns his camera on the other husbands. In the background is some opera music, and I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re hearing The Marriage of Figaro.

In the hall Chet stops Helen and subtly positions himself as her next lover by offering to come throw around the ball with Glen, take him to the beach. Helen isn’t stupid though, and goes through Chet’s whole fantasy scenario of her being so grateful for his good deeds that she invites him into the house and… Chet knows he’s been figured out, and tells her, “Listen, I don’t want you telling Francine that I suggested something that I didn’t.” Helen isn’t scared and says she’s sorry if she misunderstood. At the end of the hall, Don notices the pair and starts recording them (but presumably can’t understand the conversation). Don is such a creeper, wandering around the house with his camera, but it shows how he feels like a voyeur and an outsider in his own life. The point is driven home as he catches Henry and his wife in the empty dining room—I was wrong about them not reappearing until cake. I guess while everyone else has been talking and getting to know each other, these two have been cannodling. As they kiss tenderly, Don finally realizes what a creeper he’s being and stops filming. Jon Hamm is such a good actor-- Don looks a little surprised, jealous, and uncomfortable at seeing a married couple who actually seem to like and have affection for each other.

In the next scene Don is outside, drinking and watching the kids play house. In the background you can hear them say, “You dented the car!” “I like sleeping on the couch,” and “I don’t like your tone.” And the cycle of dysfunctional marriages continues into the next generation! Helen steps outside and joins Don. “Interesting crowd in there,” she observes. “Same crowd out here,” Don says, looking pretty well into the “drunk and feeling sorry for yourself” stage.

In the kitchen the wives are discussing Helen: how she swings her hips as she walks, how Glen is too quiet and wears wrinkly clothes, and that shameful Christmas wrapping paper. Betty proves to be a little sweeter than her friends as she says, “She works. Must be hard to have a job and run a house too.” Apparently Helen works at a counter in a jewelry store. The bitchfest is interrupted by Glen, wanting to know where his mom is. I swear, this kid has fangs! Betty tells him to check the dining room, but Marilynn sees what’s happening outside. She calls Betty over to see Don and Helen talking outside. Betty’s like, “Ring the alarm! I’ve been doing this too long! But I’ll be damned if I see another chick on your arm!” She goes outside to break up the party of 2 by making Don finally go get the cake.

Back in the house, two kids (unfortunately, Tiny Tim is elsewhere) run through the house and knock over something on the end table. Jack, walking by, grabs the boy and slaps him in the face. Gasp! Carlton, the boy’s dad, comes over to see what happened. Carlton tells his kid to apologize to Jack, and when the kid doesn’t respond asks, “Do you want some more [slapping, I presume]?” Jack tells him that isn’t necessary and the kid runs off. If this happened today, there’d be cops on the front lawn within five minutes taking witness reports and discussing whether to file child abuse charges. Slapping someone else’s kid is the like the most Not Done thing of all the things that are Not Done.

Don is driving around with the cake in the passenger seat. Geez, Don, at least put a seatbelt around the cake before it goes flying onto the floor! He slows down as he nears his house (made very recognizable by the red door), but then speeds up and keeps going. He’s not even gonna stop for a drink refill? An hour later, in the kitchen, Betty wonders if Don got an accident. Chet comes in and tells Nancy that they’re leaving, since “there’s not going to be a cake. Am I the only one who knows that? Don Draper, you are a first class heel and I salute you. Let’s go.” No points for tact but plenty for brutal honesty. Nancy and Chet take off, and Helen offers the Sara Lee cake she has in her freezer. Francine instantly cuts the bitchiness and asks her to go get it. Aw, Helen saves the day!

We cut to a tiny, misshapen cake in a tin wrapper with “Sally” written in whipped cream and a candle stuck in the middle. But Sally, the birthday girl doesn’t know the difference. And there are Henry and his wife, for anyone who’s hoping they get their own spin-off called Mad Party Guests.

It’s night, and Don is napping in his car. He rouses himself to light a cigarette, and we see he’s parked under a bridge or overpass, watching the trains go by. He looks like he’s giving serious consideration to lying down on the tracks.

Back at home, Betty manages to wash the dishes and smoke at the same time. Is there nothing these people can’t do with a cigarette in hand? I can’t to see Francine give birth while smoking, and maybe the doctor can be smoking too. Betty struggles with the rubber gloves she’s wearing, so it looks like therapy hasn’t cured her numb hand disorder yet. She hears Don’s car pull up and Sally yell, “Daddy!” Ah, the joys of being too young to realize you have a bad dad. Don’s sitting on the floor, with Sally and Bobby climbing all over him, and Sally says, “Mommy, look! Daddy got me a doggie!” And there’s a very cute golden retriever next to them! But it’s fully grown, so points off for not bringing home a puppy. Not only would a puppy bring the maximum amount of cuteness to the table, but Betty would also have even more reasons to be pissed since she’d have to potty train it. Betty tells Don, “I don’t even know what to say,” and oblivious Sally decides to name the dog Polly and throws her arms around it. A Rachel Menken in the making, this one is. Betty walks away, and Don, about five minutes from drunkenly passing out, pulls Sally off the dog, tells her happy birthday, and gives her a big kiss on the forehead. Sally wipes off her forehead and goes right back to hugging the dog.

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In Memory of Momofuku Andou

Grab your Soy Sauce and Hello Kitty dolls because this week's episode focuses on the Asians of the island while revealing a bunch of stuff on the boat that we already knew (or figured out).

After a particularly long Previously on Lost…we are treated a mysterious and vague conversation between Frank and seaman. We then meet Regina, who happens to be established stunt artist Zoe Bell, who spent most of her time answering their calls earlier. Frank then talks to Desmond and Sayid, held prisoner in the sickbay; he brings them some food, delicious canned lima beans.

Jin and Sun have a nighttime campfire discussion and Jin practices his engrish. They discuss baby names (he wants a girl named Ji Yeon…so asian) but Sun is quite uneasy about it and would rather focus on getting off the island first. Since it will kill her. On the bright side, I’d like to remind everyone that the island fixed Jin’s broken pee pee.

In our first flash, Sun is packing some Korean toiletries into a bag and then begins applying some make up. She has some sudden pains and calls for an ambulance because she’s preggers.

After the title screen, we see Jin running into a toy store and is looking for a stuffed panda so he can bring it as a gift to the maternity ward. He gets a call on his phone and reaffirms that he is on his way.

Jin is seen taking a nap on the beach and Sun wakes him up because Kate and Jack are back. I don’t see why they should care so much but they go talk to Kate about what happened on her adventure. Kate conveniently mentions every bad thing that the boaties and Juliet did (Charlotte hitting her, Juliet lying about the poison gas, etc) I guess to keep the rest of the losties from trusting these tagalongs because Kate makes it clear that she doesn’t think they will rescue the losties. Which makes me wonder why she cared so much that Miles knew who she was. Whatever.

On the boat, Sayid is getting tired of eating lima beans and they get a note, supposedly from Ben’s man on the boat. It reads ‘Don’t trust the Captain’ and this is like the third warning they’ve gotten about him in this episode.

Dan is futzing with the iphone and Sun introduces herself slash opens with her being preggers so she can bluntly follow up with a question about the boaties’ intentions. Dan awkwardly deflects blame by claiming the decision is not up to him and she storms off.

At the pantry/kitchen/dinner table/whatever, Jin practices his English on Jack by asking for the cereal. I wonder what kind of cereal it is, probably shitty corn flakes. Jin makes a reference to Sawyer trying to teach him English, claiming Sun is better at it. When Sun returns, Jack asks some doctor-y questions and then takes his leave. This is when Sun announces she wants to go to Locke’s camp.

She is then raiding Juliet’s camp for the pre-natal vitamins where she is caught red-handed. When she tells Juliet that they plan to go to Locke’s camp, Juliet makes several arguments against it. Sun doesn’t trust her though, which I guess implies that she does trust Locke (which, in my opinion, is the stupidest thing ever. She’s asian, I thought she’s supposed to be a little brighter than, say, Kate).

Sun is wheeled into the hospital and the nurses are excited because she is one of the Oceanic Six. Mildly delirious, Sun makes a big deal about removing her ring. A Dr. Bae comes in, covering for her own (who is out at a conference) and she keeps asking for Jin as the pain medication is pumped into her veins.

Meanwhile in classic sit-com situation, Jin is rushing to the hospital. He grabs a taxi and puts in his bear when his shitty cell phone rings. As he’s answering it, someone else swoops in and takes his cab—along with the bear. Then a moped runs over his phone and he screams angry threats. Three things immediately jump to mind, which ruin the twist for the clever, are nice details that the writers included. They are: 1. Jin’s cell phone is shitty and old 2. Jin is super aggressive and self important 3. while no one recognizes him as a member of the Oceanic Six (even though the nurses recognized Sun). This draws one to the early conclusion that while Sun is obviously in a flash forward, Jin is in a flashback. You writers were being tricky, but sometimes viewers are quicker than you think. Anyways, Jin of course goes back into the store to buy another panda. Though the clerk says they are sold out, Jin sees one that has been put on hold. He offers all of his money for it, like 10 times the retail price. The clerk reluctantly gives in and he rushes off again. If this entire situation wasn’t taken directly from like an episode of I Dream of Jeanie or Three’s Company or something, I’ll be very surprised.

Kate draws the Asians a map on how to get to the barracks and they share a hug. Kate claims she has to tell Jack but will give a headstart. Juliet shows up and tries to ruin the party. Though Sun refuses to translate, Juliet keeps saying that Sun is in danger. Finally, Juliet brings out the big guns and tells Jin about Sun’s affair. Jin is emotionally wounded but composes himself in asian stoicism (actually, I thought this one moment was some of the best acting I have seen on Lost, conveying several different emotions from all three actors without any actual dialog) as Sun bitch slaps the shit out of Juliet. I’d’ve done the same. By the way, while I feel completely comfortable saying ‘I’d’ve’, writing it looks like a complete disaster. Strunk and White are probably rolling around in their graves. Well, they would be if roflcopters and lollerskaters weren’t already defecating all over the site.

Jin has returned to the beach, packing his fishing gear and Sun tries to talk to him but he can’t even bear to look at her. Bernard comes up and asks to come fishing, until he realizes he has come in the middle of a very awkward situation, what with Sun in tears and all. But Jin asks him to come anyways, because I guess he needs a friend right now and he doesn’t really have too many.

On the boat, Bernard tries to relate to him by mentioning that they are the only two married guys on the island. Followed by an awkwardly hilarious moment where Bernard makes sure Jin understands that they aren’t gay and aren’t married to each other. He may not speak English, but he’s not an idiot Bernard. It’s not like suddenly he’ll think he’s married to you, you homophobe. Bernard opens up a little and mentions Rose’s cancer to Jin and how to island cured her. He relates on how Rose decided to stay with Jack, because Locke is a murderer (so true) and how Bernard will stand by her and a discussion of karma is interrupted by them catching a nice fish. Jin looks like he realizes he was being irrational.

On the Kahana, Desmond is pacing around like a hamster as the tapping is driving him nuts. Sayid suspects someone, and not something, is making that noise when the doc brings them up to the deck. The helicopter is gone and Sayid is asking 20 questions but that falls to the background as Desmond watches Zoe Bell, tied in chains, decide to jump over the side of the boat. While the losties panic and want to save her, the captain comes out and orders everyone to stand down. It’s too bad, because I think I would’ve liked if Zoe had a more substantial role on the show (even though I have said, numerous times, I hate new characters). The captain justifies his inaction by keeping the rest of his crew alive, since he claims that many of them are suffering from heightened cabin fever. He blames it on the proximity of the island and also reveals that someone (obviously Ben’s man) has been sabotaging the engines so they cannot move to ‘safer waters.’ When Sayid asks if the boat will rescue them, the captain passes the buck along even further. He then reveals that the boat is Charles Widmore’s (even though we already knew that) and that they were told about Desmond too.

In his office, the captain shows a black box from ‘Oceanic 815’ and explains both the giant staged wreckage and that Widmore wants to confront Ben about all those unnamed corpses.

Juliet continues to try to convince Sun that staying with Locke is the wrong move. She details the symptoms and I guess Sun is won over by her.

In the hospital, the doctor wants to perform a C-section but Sun wants to wait for Jin. In fact, she calls out to a stranger thinking it is Jin. He must think she is crazy. The nurse says the baby is crowning and in a few seconds out comes a slimy and hairy baby girl. The mother and daughter share a moment.

Back on the boat now, the doctor leads Sayid and Desmond to their new room, on ‘the quiet part’ of the ship. He also alludes that it may be moving despite popular belief. In the room, not only do bugs crawl around but a blood stain reminiscent of a suicidal gunshot (ala Radzinski) is still present. The doc calls for the janitor to clean it up, who turns out to be Michael (what a shock!!!!!! Oh my god (n64 for those using itap)! ), going under the alias Kevin Johnson. Sayid and Desmond keep up the charade as the ‘shocking twist’ music swells.

Sun is making her bed and Jin comes, with dinner as a sort of peace offering. They reconcile, Jin explaining that he understands who he was blah blah blah. He’s willing to go to Locke’s camp (which seems weird, since the pep talk with Bernard reinforced the idea that LOCKE IS A MURDERER) but Sun has come to her senses and will stay on the beach. She also reconfirms that the baby is Jin’s (because the island fixed his wang) and they tear up together.

Jin is then seen rushing into the maternity ward where it is revealed he is bringing the panda to the Chinese ambassador (hence why as a Panda, it is very important) as a representative for Paik Automotive. As if to drive the point home, a little explicating dialog with a nurse reveals that he has only been married for 2 months in this scene.

Sun is once again applying make up and then puts on her ring (apparently, the name on the bag isn’t hers though—jewelry thief!). The door rings and it’s Hurley come to visit! He asks if anyone is coming and when Sun says no, he kind of makes a sleazy sounding ‘good’ while looking a little like Ron Jeremy. Well, I guess it’s good that Kate didn’t come…she’d probably try to steal little Ji Yeon. Baby snatching bitch. Hurley mentions that she really looks like Jin (I guess implying that they are both asian) and then Hurley suggests visiting him.

They go to the cemetery and Sun talks to Jin, revealing she named their daughter just as he wanted and how she misses him. It only reminds me of how when I was young, my mom always brought me to the cemetery to visit my dad. I sat there for a moment, being silent like a good child until my mom excused me. I would run off in the open grass while I guess my mom grieved. I understood that my father was dead, I just don’t think I ever appreciated those visits since I don’t actually remember him (since he died when I was one) and also that I was a little kid. I guess I am saying, I hope this baby doesn’t end up as fucked up as I am. And also I kinda want to go visit him right now. I have not been there since probably around when I left Santa Barbara the first time, in second grade. I don’t think my mom has either. And now it makes me sad.

On that note,

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Art School Dropout

I know this is way past overdue but I've been really busy and I'm just waiting for summer when we can get things going in full force. Anyways in last week's episode of Lost (season 4, episode 6) not a whole lot happened.

We open to Juliet playing with a miniature zen rock garden in a therapist’s office. Her hair looks horrible, I don’t know what they were thinking. The therapist arrives and it turns out to Rachel Ray (maybe she could show Locke how to make a real breakfast). Juliet obviously is here because, as a new Other, she has adjustment issues; she doesn’t exactly want to be here. The session is cut short because Ben sent Tom to fetch her. Tom has daddy issues, and I am not that surprised.

When Juliet meets with Ben, he shows her the fully furnished house she has received. Why does she need a two bedroom? It’s not like she rent out one of them to someone else or be expecting a lot of overnight guests. Is her family gonna drop in unexpectedly? Anyways, when she makes a remark about only being here for 6 months, Ben kinda ignores it, because obviously he plans to keep her for good. Creep.

Back in the present, her housing situation is juxtaposed with her trying to erect a makeshift shelter on the beach. Wow, nice touch guys. Sun gives her a hand in putting it up and Jack asks about Dan and Charlotte. Jin says he watched them go into the jungle and when Jack asks why no one told him, Jin and Sun were like ‘aren’t they friends?’ And Jack and Juliet just kind of run off with out answering them. In Scooby style, the two split up and when Juliet is in the middle of the rainy jungle, the old backwards whispers appear again and then suddenly Rachel Ray appears!

Rachel Ray tells Juliet that Ben knows that Dan and Charlotte are headed to ‘The Tempest’ where there is some gas. I am assuming it’s the gas that the Others first used to rout the Dharma people. Jack comes and Rachel is not that intimidated. She makes a sassy remark that he might as well go too, the whispers start, and she vanishes.

Juliet is crying in the lab, I guess because she’s a girl. Then, a noise startles her and Goodwin is raiding the medical supply station. She treats an ‘electrical burn’ and we learn she blames herself for pregnant ladies are dying. Juliet reveals she hates the therapist and Goodwin reveals she’s his wife. Awkward. He also starts hitting on Juliet. I don’t know why Goodwin was lying about his chemical burn and, since he’s dead, doubt it will come up again.

In the rain, Jack and Juliet head to ‘The Tempest’ which is an electrical station. Jack keeps asking questions and Juliet just replies that “what [she] needs is for [him] to help [her].” Ugh, just awful.

I guess the rain stopped and night ended because Dan and Charlotte are squatting over a map, in the sunlight, trying to figure out how to get to the Tempest. Kate stumbles upon them, and Charlotte pulls out her gun on her. Dan tries to calm everyone down again, since he wants to bang Kate. Kate fills them in on Miles’ situation, though she says they are treating him fine. Even though there is a grenade in his mouth. When Kate wants to know why they are out in jungle, Charlotte lies about a dead iphone. Kate sees it, turned on, poking out the pack and tries to call their bluff. Charlotte then pistol whips out cold and acts pretty nonchalant about it. Dan looks sad because it probably hurts his chances of sleeping with Kate. And while I hate these new characters, I think it was pretty badass how Charlotte knocked her out.

Juliet tells Jack about Rachel and she just says that it’s stressful being an Other. When Jack digs for more details and Juliet wants to be all secretive, he pulls the big ‘you’ve read my entire life story’ card on her and she just keeps walking. What a bitch.

Juliet is looking into a microscope and Ben is creepily staring at her while they discuss fake science about why women can’t give birth here. Goodwin crashes the party, and she visibly lightens up and Ben looks less than ecstatic about it. Because they are having an affair. In therapy, Rachel asks about Ben and she makes a comment about Juliet looking like ‘her’ which I guess means that one girl from dharma. Then she just cuts to the chase and wants the details about the affair. Juliet tries to keep up the lie but Rachel Ray voyeuristically followed and watched them do it. Creepy. She reveals that Ben will hurt Goodwin should he find out.

Locke has his hands buried in cutting up a rabbit which is a little creepy. Claire comes up to him and wants to talk to Miles. Since there’s a grenade in his mouth, Locke doesn’t want to let her see him. She makes some very logical points, which seems pretty rare on this show. But Locke brings us back to irrational and tries to use Charlie’s death as a way to get her on tilt. But she holds strong and he just storms off. When Locke brings Ben the number, he asks if there was a number on it and I found that hilarious. Locke doesn’t understand and Ben just moves on to undermining his confidence again. Talks of the 5 people revolting against him since he ‘doesn’t have a plan.’ Whatever. When Locke reveals he knows about the deal with Miles, Ben looks shocked. Locke sassily gives him a dollar to contribute to the 3.2 million goal. When Ben finally tries to strike an alliance with Locke, against the common enemy, Locke seems to start listening to him. But to convince him, Ben has to ‘show [him].’ Which, since I am 13, found hilarious also.

Juliet and Goodwin are enjoying a little private beach action and having a picnic. Her hair looks much better all wet than back in the lab. Goodwin’s been sleeping on the couch for a year? Don’t they have two bedrooms too? Jesus. And though Ben is like their de facto leader, everyone seems to be making fun of his little puppy dog crush on Juliet. Like I dunno, were people people making fun of Eva Braun back in Germany? Did I just break Godwin’s law? Dammit.

When the Others watch the plane crash, we see Ben send the spies out again, except this time Juliet and Rachel watch Goodwin march to his death as per ordered. Not that big a reveal.

In pursuit of the boaties, Jack and Juliet find the pistol whipped Kate, on the ground and bleeding. As Jack tries to comfort Kate, Juliet watches uncomfortably since they want to bang. Juliet leaves and Kate explains what happened, including the gas mask reveal. Which Jack should remember from before. Jack calls for Juliet but I guess she ran off ahead, solo.

Locke is escorting Ben into his house, though he’s still bound. Locke makes another remark about being shot in the back and Ben is just unphased. Ben makes the good point that his people deserted him and then shows Locke all the information he has is in his safe. Which happens to be a Red Sox tape. They pop in the vhs, which he taped over, and we see an unsteady, shot of Charles Widmore killing an Other. And while it’s evidence of a big conspiracy to viewers, I fail to see how it is proof that Ben is telling the truth. Locke doesn’t know anything about Charles Widmore or anything related to that. Ben could say his same monologue about someone wanting to exploit the island and it’d be about the same. And I also don’t know why Locke doesn’t realize that when an island can fix the paralyzed, people would want to exploit it. At least Ben also has some files about him I guess. Locke finally wants to know who the man on the boat is, and though they build up the suspense, anyone who looks at the starring credits can figure it out. You’re not as clever as you think guys!

Kate reveals that she had to talk to Miles about who knows she’s a fugitive. Not that big a deal, Jack would’ve understood. And he does. Partially because he wants to bang her. Another kind of inconsequential scene.

Juliet reaches the Tempest and finds that the lock his been jimmied open. Because I kind of like etymology (I know, geeky) I just checked and I guess the verb to jimmy comes from a term for a crowbar. I didn’t know that. And now I do. While this scene is also kind of pointless, I mean anyone can figure they are gonna have to bust the lock to get into the tempest, at least there’s a gun.

Ben gets the door for Juliet as they get ready for a 2 person dinner party. Awkward. Not that I am one to giving dating advice (since I am like socially retarded), but don’t ask someone out by using false pretenses. Also are they gonna eat a whole ham? Juliet wants Goodwin to come home but Ben just lies and tries to make it seem like Goodwin and Ana-Lucia are doing it. I don’t think anyone bought it.

In the tempest, the alarms are going off saying that unauthorized overrides are being performed. This is the shittiest alarm system ever. Instead of just announcing that unauthorized overrides are happening, why not just prevent it from happening. When Juliet confronts Dan, in full safety garb, he reveals that he’s trying to make the gas inert and not release it. Then Charlotte comes in, swinging a metal pipe. Damn, for an anthropologist, she has a violent streak. Moreso than Naomi, that’s for sure. And at the last second, instead of releasing the gas, Dan basically destroys it. I don’t really understand it at all and don’t really care. It wasn’t that interesting.

In the lab, Juliet is reading about Jack. Ben seems unimpressed that the spinal surgeon has landed especially since he called it fate when Jack was a captive. But I guess Ben just wants to gloat as he shows Juliet the gross dead body of Goodwin. What a bastard. He also calls Juliet property. There’s just way too much sexual drama going on here. It’s like high school.

As Juliet and Charlotte leave, Jack and Kate find them and Kate is, understandably, still pissed at being knocked around. Juliet and Jack then share a moment, first sharing that Ben is still in control of everything, and second to make out. Which was completely unnecessary.

Finally, we get some Hurley and Sawyer scenes, watching Hurley just kick ass at horseshoes. They see Ben, walking about all free and they don’t look happy. Whatever.

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Mo' Ladies, Mo' Problems

In the second episode of Mad Men, Ladies' Room, Don's wife and mistress get a little more crazy, and his secretary gets a little more sane. But before you read, I found a little character guide that could be helpful for anyone reading who's not familiar with the show. If you don't know Peggy from Betty or Ken from Paul, the guide will help. On to the recap...

Previously on Mad Men: all the Mad Boys check Peggy the new secretary out, then she fucks Pete before his wedding and after Don turns her down, Don has a wife and a mistress and a Jewish, female department store. Then the credits, which are really very snazzy. I read something about the last, signature shot; supposedly, one of the directors saw the back of Jon Hamm’s head and said, "Have you seen the back of this man's head? Have you seen what that is, what presence that is? Who is this person, this mystery?" Which is kind of a fruity, drama major thing to say, but it’s very true. Hamm has a great head.

The show begins at a restaurant with Slattery, his wife, Don, and his wife, Betty. Slattery begins to talk about his past nannies, and Betty chimes in that they have a housekeeper who sometimes baby-sits too, but no nanny. Then Slattery starts bitching about his teenage daughter, who recently started seeing a psychiatrist. “16 years old, wouldn’t get of bed. I tell ya, I cannot wait until that girl is another man’s problem.” I think that line sums up the whole theme of this episode: each girl is going to be some man’s problem.

Slattery brings the subject back to nannies by asking Don if he had one. Don smoothly quips, “I can’t tell you about my childhood, it’ll ruin the first half of my novel.” Betty says that she knows better than to ask Don questions because he doesn’t like to talk about himself. Don tells them, “It’s not that interesting a story. Just think of me as Moses; I was a baby in a basket.” I understand that Don’s this big mysterious guy, but has he not figured out that it would be easier to just lie and say, “No, I never had a nanny” then go through all these verbal cartwheels? It’s like he learned to juggle just in case someone ever asks him to play a song on the piano.

The ladies head to the Ladies’ Room that’s the title of this episode. At the mirror Betty’s hands get numb and shaky and she asks Slattery’s wife (who is actually Slattery’s wife in real life) to help her with her lipstick. Betty has this great dress on- white top with floral pattern, then a wide light blue sash around her waist. With her short blonde bob, perfectly curled, she has a definite Grace Kelly thing going on. Betty takes a compliment on her lips from Slattery’s wife as an excuse to throw a little pity party: “It’s hard to hold onto anything right now with the children, and running the house, and I don’t know if I told you but my mother died three months ago…” Slattery’s wife is wondering how she’s going to extract herself from this awkward conversation, but is saved by the bathroom attendants who shoo the ladies away from the mirror. I hate bathroom attendants because they’re so unnecessary, and I don’t like someone watching while I wash my hands and then handing me a towel, and expecting a tip.

After dinner Betty and Don drive home and Betty tells him she likes seeing him like that, and that “when you’re with strangers you know exactly what you want.” Don replies, “I like to think I always know what I want.” They discuss how Betty had a little too much to drink, and what a giant man crush Slattery has on Don. They’re not wearing seatbelts, which means Betty can slide over to Don’s side of the car and lean against him with his arm around her neck. It’s classic 60’s romanticism, coupled with extreme unsafety. Betty is not too drunk to note that Slattery’s openness about his nannies and depressed daughter was “an invitation to [Don] to confide.” Don claims it’s good manners that stopped him, and “it’s a sin of pride to go on about yourself.” Later, the happy couple are in bed and Betty asks Don again if he had a nanny. He starts juggling. “Why, what difference does it make?” She keeps pressing, and he finally admits, with some difficulty, that he didn’t. Betty starts to unbutton his pajama top (why do men not wearing matching pajama tops and bottoms anymore? It’s like a suit for bed. Wait, I just think I answered my question), and flirts, “So your mother and father were responsible for all this? I’ll have to thank them sometime.” The way she says this makes me think that she’s never met his parents, which would be bizarre. They start macking, the camera fades out, and when we come back it’s the middle of the night, Don’s passed out on his side of the bed and Betty’s smoking on the other. She leans over and whispers into his ear, “Who’s in there?” Talking to people you think are asleep is a dangerous, dangerous game, Betty. I personally spend half the night faking sleep in hopes that someone will whisper secrets into my ear. That hasn’t happened yet, though.

Betty and Don’s marriage is kind of terrifying. Based on the age of their kids, they’ve probably been married for six or seven years—what have they been talking about all this time if Don refuses to divulge any personal information? Baseball? Lawn fertilizer? The joys of smoking?

The next day at the Sterling Cooper offices, Peggy is excitedly showing Joan her first paycheck, for $35. Joan rightly tells her not to be so proud of her tiny salary, and the two walk into the women’s bathroom. Joan walks right by a woman (one of the operators we met last week? Another secretary?) standing at the mirror, sobbing into a paper towel, but Peggy stops and says, “Bridget, are you ok?” Joan gives Peggy a little, “Leave it alone” gesture. Seriously, Bridget’s a major drama queen for not locking herself in a stall, sitting on the toiler and pulling her feet off the ground, and crying silently. That’s the only appropriate way to have a breakdown at work.

Over in Don’s office, the Mad Boys (I decided that every male in the office except Don and Slattery will be called Mad Boys, until they do something worthy of being one of the Men) unpack a box of aerosol deodorant that they’ll be advertising this week. Last week all the Boys were pretty interchangeable, so this episode I’m making an effort to learn their names. Ken, the blonde one who looks like Draco Malfoy and thus might be the evilest Mad Boy of all, gives the run-down on Right Guard. Do any of you use spray deodorant? It seems so messy to me, and also, what do you do when you’re already dressed and realize you totally forgot to put deodorant on, so you have to reach under your shirt and hope you don’t get a huge amount of residue on the inside of your clothes? It seems like with an aerosol you’d have to get completely undressed or go without. Anyway, Salvatore (the gotta-be-secretly gay art director) reads the label that says, “Do not puncture or incinerate.. sounds dangerous,” and then sprays the can directly into the face of some guy whose name I can’t figure out from imdb. He kind of looks like a dad, though. Not my dad, but somebody’s dad.

The roughhousing escalates, first to Salvatore and Dad playing monkey in the middle with Draco. Don, sitting apart from the group on the windowsill, tells them dryly, “I’m sure more research is needed. You should try it out.” Paul, the guy with the nice face who’s wearing a cardigan, smoking a pipe, and reminding me of my grandfather, chimes in, “Who smells bad in here?” Everyone looks at Draco, and the homoerotic wrestling begins! They push him down on the desk, tear open his shirt, and tell him, “Just pretend it’s prom night. You can be the girl!” Draco stops struggling and closes his eyes in a very Jesus-like way, and then gets properly doused in deodorant. Don keeps sitting in the windowsill, smoking and laughing, which is why he’s a Man and not a Boy. Or maybe he just likes to watch.

Peggy interrupts to tell Don that Mr. Cooper, the head of Sterling Cooper (along with Slattery), is waiting to meet with him. Cooper looks at the almost gang rape happening on Don’s desk, but Don tells him it was just research for a brassiere account; “Just figured out we can’t sell them to men.” Cooper isn’t impressed by Don’s quick wit, so he’s obviously the bad cop to Slattery’s good cop. The two bosses tag team Don to talk about working to promote Dick Nixon for president. Don says he thought Nixon was running without an ad company’s help, and Cooper crustily says, “Trust me, we know better than Dick Nixon what Dick Nixon needs.” Don brings up the famous Checkers the dog commercial as proof that Nixon already knows how to play the media, and Slattery ruefully concedes, “Dogs are winners.” Don gets a little aggro, asking, “They obviously don’t want us. Why chase a girl who doesn’t want to be caught?” Cooper asks if Don has a problem with Nixon, and Don tells him he doesn’t vote. Instead of being aghast at a grown man who’ll easily admit he sucks as an American citizen, Cooper’s like, “hear, hear.” He explains that the last 8 years (I check Wikipedia to see who was the president at the time. Eisenhower, with Nixon as the VP) have been good to Sterling Cooper because the Republican policies have been good to the companies that are their clients. Don gets it: “So whether we like it or not…” Cooper finishes, “we will give our people want they want. Agreed?” His point is punctured by a burst of light in the background; looks like the Mad Boys, still in Don’s office, figured out how to use the aerosol can as a flame thrower. No one notices (but you can hear Draco say, “I said cut it out!” More rape?), and Cooper walks off… in his bare feet. Alzheimer’s storyline in the future? Or maybe a foot fungus epidemic in the office?

Paul (nice-looking, dresses like a grandpa, remember?) comes out of the office and asks Don if they’re still on for lunch. Don looks at his watch, says no, and walks away. Peggy, observing the conversation, pulls her brown bag lunch out of her desk, and Paul starts doing the lunch-break flirting thing. Peggy doesn’t take the bait, and Paul says “toodle-lo” and walks off. What a grandpa. Joan walks over and observes that Peggy’s white bread sandwich and totally black banana (what’s up with that? So gross!) are “making me sad.” She tells her to get her things, they have feminine wiles to use to their advantage.

In the office break room, Draco, Dad and Harry (wears glasses and a bow-tie) look at the postcard Pete sent from his honeymoon at Niagara Falls. On the back he wrote, “Greetings from the wettest place on earth,” which is an awfully weak double entendre for someone who’s supposed to be clever and creative for a living. The Mad Boys are interrupted from speculating about Pete’s sex life as a married man by Joan, who’s leading Peggy through the room and loudly suggesting they skip lunch and go shopping for sweater sets instead. Draco tells them to come to lunch with him instead, and when Joan doesn’t immediately agree he tells her, “C’mon, three on two. I know you all like to be outnumbered.” Harry quickly clarifies that it’s actually two on two, since he’s married. Could this be the one good man in the office? No, he’ll probably turn out to be worse than all of them, even Mudblood-hating Draco. The girls agree to come to lunch, and Joan asks about the postcard. Draco cracks that Pete hasn’t left the hotel room, and Peggy stops smiling and looks down. Dad pins the card to the bulletin board, and the Mad Boys and Girls head out to lunch.

At the local diner, Draco and Harry interrogate Peggy about whether she’s “taken, kept, or merely browsing.” Basically, they want to know if she’s some other man’s problem or if she can be theirs. Joan chimes in, “She’s browsing, and like most of us she’s disappointed with the selection of merchandise.” Draco swarms, “Perhaps I can interest you with a 42 long?” and Dad hits the punchline: “That’s not his suit size.” All the hardened Manhattanites at the table laugh, and Peggy from Brooklyn blushes. Harry tells her that everyone in the office has been talking and placing bets on who she’s going to hook up with first, which is sure to make a girl feel special. If there’s anything we’ve learned from She’s All That, it’s that you shouldn’t mix gambling and dating, especially with the dowdy girl who’s sure to have a totally hot bod under those overalls.

Anyway, lunch ends and as Peggy gets up to leave, Draco leans into her ear and asks her if she wants to do it like they do on the Discovery Channel. Well, almost; it’s more along the lines of taking the afternoon off so they can “go to the zoo, see what the animals are up to,” but he’s rubbing her hip as he says this so I stand by my interpretation. She tells him she has to go back to work, and everyone laughs at Draco’s failure to score Peggy.

Back at Peggy’s desk, Paul swings by and asks her, not unkindly, “Did you enjoy yourself with the Hitler youth?” Yeah, if Draco Malfoy lived in 1940’s Germany he’d be the pride of the SS. She laughs, and says, “Oh, yeah, it was kind of last minute…” which is the classic “Sorry I didn’t invite you” excuse. Paul tells her it’s ok, then hands her a folder to show to Don. As he leaves he pauses and tells her, “You can look, too.” Very smooth, grandpa, but she’s not going to take the bait until you take off the cardigan.

Back at Don’s house, Betty and her friend Francine smoke, drink tea, and slag off past PTA presidents, just as all housewives do. Francine shares some new gossip about the new neighbor moving in up the street—Helen Bishop, a divorced mother of two. The two women look disturbed at the thought of not having a man to consider you his problem, of being your own problem. They pause, and Francine gets up to check on their kids, revealing that she’s pregnant! Pregnant and smoking! I forgot to mention in my last recap how, at one point, Don is exercising while smoking in his office, which is just dumb, but smoking while pregnant is way dumber. Not to be outdone, Betty sees her daughter with a plastic bag over her head and tells her, “If the clothes from that dry-cleaning bag are on the floor of my closet you’re going to be a very sorry young lady.” Sally (the daughter) is about two breaths from suffocating to death, but Betty sends her back off to play.

Later in the day, Betty is driving down in the neighborhood and passes the divorced Helen Bishop, dragging a box into her house alone. Seconds later, her hands become numb like they did in the bathroom at the beginning of the episode, and she loses control of the car and goes up onto her neighbor’s lawn, running down a bird bath. Oh, women drivers, they never know how to steer with their elbows or use the break pedal. Peggy sits and stares at her hands in horror, then gets out to check on her kids in the backseat. No car seats, you guys! They’re on the floor between the front and back seats, giggling like crazy. When I was younger, my dad would swerve the car back and forth to make my sister and me scream when he was driving through our neighborhood. It’s like a rollercoaster! Betty didn’t find the whole experience as fun as her kids did, and sinks down to the grass with a confused look.

Her face fades out and is replaced with Don, on top of Midge, looking like they’re in the middle of some hot sex. But then about two seconds later he rolls over, so maybe they’re substituting pillow talk for orgasms today. Or maybe Don Draper doesn’t know how to satisfy a woman! Just kidding, that’s not possible. Have you seen the back of his head? Midge puts on a robe, Don lights up a cigarette, and they discuss her new color TV. Don is not happy that she got a TV, and Midge tells him to just ask her where she got it. He does, and she says, “I got it.” I really liked Midge in the first episode, but it was at this point that I was like, “Uh, what’s wrong with this chick?” Don continues pressing: “Same place you got that wig?” And she is, indeed, wearing a really ugly brown bobbed wig. Who wears a wig during sex? Besides Beyonce, probably. Midge tells him that someone gave it to her, and now we all know Midge is a giant freeloading slut. Don starts putting on his clothes, and Midge just unplugs the TV, picks it up, and throws it out her window. Crazy! You can hear it hit the fire escape and the street, and Midge is like, “All better?” Don gets this look on his face as he realizes that his fun-loving mistress is actually a total lunatic who’s going to boil his daughter’s bunny before much longer, and quietly tells her “yes” in his best “Don’t disturb the psychopath” tone. Midge then starts laughing and looks all “oh my god, I’m so bad, hehe!” She threw a TV out the window! Run, Don!

That night, Betty is making a dinner of fish fingers for her kids. Healthy. Don walks in, and asks how everyone is in the aftermath of the birdbath run-in. Says he’s sorry the hospital couldn’t get a hold of him, and makes up a work excuse to cover for his session of afternoon delight. The kids finish their food (nice job making a dinner that take less than a minute and a half to eat, Betty) and run off to watch tv, and Don asks what really happened. Betty fesses up: “It was my hands. It happened… again.” Don tells her she has to get that taken care of, since the last doctor they saw about it wasn’t any help. Betty says she knows, but the doctor at the hospital was nice, “older, actually, he was from Rochester, he has two children, ten years apart…” Don’s like, great, but those are not the kinds of things normal people need to know about their doctors. Betty finishes that both doctors agreed there was nothing physically wrong with her. She’s about to cry into the sink as she lights her cigarette, and hesitantly tells Don that they recommended she see a psychiatrist. Don is pissed. He thinks the doctors should “open the hood and poke around,” which is a truly awful way to refer to your wife’s body and health. On the other hand, I wish Don would open my hood and poke around, if you know what I mean. Don says she should go see another doctor, a better one, and Betty meekly agrees.

At the end of the night, Don is doing push-ups (shirtless!) on his bedroom floor while Betty gets ready to sleep. Don counts, “10, 11, 12, 98, 99, 100,” then gets up and looks at Betty all, “You got your two tickets? To the gun show, I mean!” You know, whenever I walk by someone doing push-ups on the floor I have the biggest urge to sit on their back. Surprisingly, no one ever wants to go to the gym with me. Back to the show: I think Don has the perfect amount of chest hair. Not Robin Williams, not a member of 98 Degrees, but perfectly in between. Don puts his pajama shirt back on as he tells Betty he worries about her. Betty tells him she was shocked at first at the suggestion of psychiatry, but it doesn’t have as much stigma as it used to. A few weeks ago, at a party, a friend called out (randomly? There may have been context), “Who here is currently or has ever seen a therapist at the NYU Health Center?” and like 5/6ths of the room raised their hand. When drunk college kids are discussing their mental health, I’d say all the stigma is gone. Anyway, Betty asks Don if he thinks she needs therapy, and you can tell she’d be willing to do anything he told her to do.

Don leans in and says, “I always thought people saw psychiatrists when they were unhappy. But I look at you… this [their really sweet green velvet headboard thing]… them [the kids], and I think, “Are you unhappy?” Betty looks like she’s about to break into a million pieces as she tells him, “of course I’m happy.” Then she tells him, a little more believably, “Whatever you think is best.” Betty’s beginning to see that being Don’s problem is both comforting and deeply constricting (are you annoyed at how far I’m pushing this “every girl is some man’s problem” theme? Because I don’t think I’m done).

The next day, the Mad Boys are presenting their ideas for the deodorant ad campaign to Don in his office. The idea is that it’s a space age deodorant, perfect for astronauts and businessmen alike. Paul spouts some pretty good ad-speak: “We’re looking for new worlds, and with that search comes any number of new gadgets. It’s not just a random association, this thing is shiny, it’s explosive, it’s from the future, a place so close to us now, filled with wonder and ease.” The first ad mock-up they show has an astronaut saying, “It works in my suit… or yours.” After Paul wraps up his pitch Don sits silently, looking concerned. Sometimes the Mad Boys act like Don is one of them, but here he is clearly the boss and they desperately want his approval. Don shoots the future-angle down: “Except some people think of the future and it upsets them. They see a rocket and they start building a bomb shelter.” Paul questions this logic, and Don says, “I don’t think it’s ridiculous to assume we’re looking for new planets because this one will end.” Instead of telling Don it is, actually, ridiculous, Paul goes back to trying to convince Don his ad is good. Don isn’t buying it, and tells them to get back to basics and think about who’s buying this deodorant: “Some woman, your girl or your mother, will pick this up walking through the grocery store. We should be asking ourselves, what do women want?” I know, for sure, that they don’t want Mel Gibson. Salvatore gays it up, quipping, “I don’t know, but I wish I had it.” Paul says he’s stopped trying to figure out what women think, and Don says a little harshly, “Maybe I should stop paying you.” He tells the Boys to bring it down to earth, that “You think they want a cowboy, he’s quiet and strong, he always brings the cattle home safe.” The boys get a little uncomfortable as it becomes clear Don isn’t talking totally hypothetically. “What if they want something else? Inside, some mysterious wish that we’re ignoring.” I guess Don has finally realized that taking care of Betty’s problems isn’t as easy as patting her on the head and saying “All better.”

The Mad Boys stream out of Don’s office and Betty asks how the meeting went. Not well, and Paul asks Betty to buy him lunch. I’m sort of into the gender reversal, but it’s not at all surprising that when she goes to pay for the sandwiches from the food cart, he’s like, “What are you doing? This 60 cent lunch is on me.” Do you ever wish you could go back in time with your bank account intact, and be super rich? The pair walk through the office (which apparently becomes a ghost town during lunch—does no one eat at their desk or eat a few hours earlier or later? Everyone leaves the premises at exactly 12:30, en masse?) and Paul explains to Betty how advertising works. I told you in my first recap that I didn’t want to learn anything from this show, but in case you’re dying to know the nuts and bolts of 60’s ad agencies, here’s what Paul tells us: most of the client’s money goes to the media department, which buys space in magazines or spots on TV. Sterling Cooper “doesn’t sell ideas or campaigns or jingles, they sell media at a 15% mark-up. Creative is just window dressing.” Paul pulls out that old man pipe as he tells her about accounting, account management (where Pete, the former son of a vampire with soul, works). Paul stands in front of Pete’s closed door and says in a Rod Sterling voice, “Let me present to you, one Pete Campbell. A man who recently discovered that the only place for his hand… is in your pocket.” Betty looks horrified at the idea that Paul knows what pockets Pete’s hands have been in, and Paul is disappointed she doesn’t watch the Twilight Zone. He proves himself to be a man after my own heart as he declares if the show is cancelled he’ll kill himself. Anyone who hasn’t felt that way about a TV show hasn’t lived. He then leads her to his desk, in the creative department. They sit on his desk and start eating their sandwiches, and Paul tells her that there are women copyrighters, and that sometimes a woman “might just be the right man for the job.” Aw, so enlightened!

After that I would have gone out with him just for not being an outright misogynist, but Betty is dumb. She hears his sweet inquiry about Ukrainian food and tells him she has a lot of work to do, still. Dumb, dumb Betty.

After lunch ends, Don is smoking in his office as Slattery walks in. Don asks if he can fix Slattery a drink; he looks at his watch and says, “4:30, close enough.” God, I love these men. Slattery brings up Nixon again, and says that Don should put together a team and it better include Pete Campbell. They banter about how going to Niagara Falls for your honeymoon, like Pete did, “redefines lack of imagination.” That is quite an insult on someone who does something creative for a living. But it’s totally true—my dad’s side of the family lives in upstate New York and every new couple went to Niagara Falls after getting married. I’m pretty sure my grandparents even did. I went there a few years ago and saw some “Just Married!” signs on cars, but geez, Niagara Falls is ridiculously tacky and crass now. I think a honeymoon there would be not only unoriginal but depressing. But then again, it couldn’t be anymore depressing than being married to Pete Campbell.

Don starts in with the required “Bitches, man” conversation. He brings up the “What do women want?” question again, and Slattery throws out a perfectly cold, “Who cares?” Then he gets even less loveable by denying that his daughter is seeing a psychiatrist, contrary to what he admitted at dinner at the beginning of the episode. Don’s eyebrows shoot up, and Slattery continues, “I am very comfortable with my mind: thoughts clean and unclean, loving and.. the opposite of that. But I am not a woman. And I think it behooves any man to toss all female troubles into the hand of a stranger.” See! Like he said, “I can’t wait until that girl is another man’s problem.” But then the “another man” is going to pass her onto a third man, the shrink, and it’s just a big, twisted game of hot potato.

Don tells Slattery that he knew a “headshrinker” when he was in the army. The guy was a gossip, and knew and told everyone’s secrets. Slattery says that not much has changed, “they just cost more.” Don replies, “And you can’t shoot at them.” Slattery: “We live in troubling times.” Don takes the joke seriously, and asks, “We do? Who could not be happy with all this?” Slattery tells him that women just want what other women have, like the wife who insists her home needs a new stove after her neighbor gets one. “It’s just more happiness,” he finishes. Don looks disbelieving, and the shot changes to behind and we can only see the back of his head. What mystery is this man!

Don arrives home after work, greets his kids (have I mentioned how freaking adorable they are? Every time they say “daddy” I melt) and then Betty. They talk about his day, and Don tells her, “You know, when I told you, you had everything, I was wrong.” He then breaks out the jewelry box and gives her a very nice watch. She’s grateful, and then proceeds to freak the fuck out. Betty noticed a bruise on her daughter’s face earlier, and asks “what if she had gotten a scar, something permanent? I’m just saying, if it had happened to Bobby it would have been ok because a boy with a scar is nothing. But a girl, it’s so much worse…” Don tries to calm her down, but Betty is on a crazy roll and says, “I keep thinking, not that I could have killed the kids, but worse—that Sally could have survived and gone on living with this horrible scar on her face and… some long, lonely, miserable life.” Whoa, right? First, that having a scar is worse than being dead, and second that having a scar dooms you to being alone. And finally, Betty looks like Grace Kelly and she has a lonely, miserable life, so look on the bright side: maybe a scar on Sally’s face would prevent her from marrying a man like Don. Betty sits down, exhausted from her freak out, and Don stands behind her, with his hands on her shoulders, unable to comfort her. She asks, practically begs, “What’s happening to me? Do I need to see someone?” Don, at a loss, gives in: “I don’t know. I guess so. Whatever you want.”

When we come back, after the commercial, Don is in the hallway of Midge’s apartment building, smoking and sitting on the floor. Midge walks up wearing a low-cut black dress, heels, and an even uglier wig than before. She observes that it’s 11 am, which means Walk of Shame for slutty ol’ Midge. Don explains that he brought Betty into the city to see the doctor, but he’s calling in sick from work. Midge, who kind of looks like Florence Henderson with her wig, tells Don she doesn’t want him to mention his wife to her, ever. “It makes me feel cruel,” she says, with a little emotion in her voice. He tells her she’s right, then says, “I can’t decide if you have everything… or nothing.” She says, “I live in the moment. Nothing is everything.” This makes me wish I was watching the episode of How I Met Your Mother when they flash back to Marshall and Ted as freshman year college roommates, and Marshall says, “Ted, you live in Ohio, right?” and Ted says, “My parents live in Ohio. I live in the moment.” And then later in the episode, when Marshall apologizes for knocking off Ted’s “spectacles,” Ted says, “That’s ok. They were mostly ornamental.”

Anyway, at the office Salvatore asks where Draper is, and when Peggy (I keep typing Betty when I mean Peggy and vice versa; they couldn’t have picked less similar names for the two lead women?) tells him Don is sick, Salvatore peaces. Peggy goes over to Paul’s office to tell him she can’t go out to lunch because she wants to be there in case Don calls. She does thank him for the tour yesterday, calling it “eye-opening.” “Hmm, I didn’t think your eyes could be any wider,” Paul says as he gets up and closes the door. Then, with no more preamble, he leans in and kisses her with all the confidence in the world. This reminds me of something that happened to a certain person who I happen to live with: it was really late and one of her guy friends had come over to drink, and when she insisted it was time to go to bed he carried her into the bathroom to watch her brush her teeth. Then, just as she put her retainer in, he asked, “So, do you want to hook up?” And she said, “Are you serious?” He was, but they didn’t, and I was in bed 20 feet away listening to this conversation and laughing hysterically. Boys are so dumb.

Peggy takes the tactic of pretending Paul is not sucking her face, and tells him, “I guess I’ll go to the cart [for lunch], you want something?” Paul ignores the hint and guesses her again. She has to push him away, and still he thinks it’s a good idea to say, “The office is going to empty out any second, we could push the couch in front of the door…” We thought Paul was one of the good ones, but it turns out he’s a Mad Boy like all the rest. Peggy keeps pushing him away, and Paul finally gets it. “Do you belong to someone else?” All this dating-ownership language is making me nauseous. Paul looks at her and thinks he’s figured it out: “Shit, I don’t even like to sit in Don’s chair.” She says, way more calmly than I would have, “I think we’ve misunderstood each other.” As she walks out he confirms, “There is someone else, right?” Maybe she just doesn’t want to be your lunchtime conquest, tool. Peggy tells him yes and walks out.

Later in the afternoon, Peggy types then decides to leave work a little bit early. Joan and her awe-inspiring hourglass figure walks over to lay some smackdown about leaving early now and making typing errors earlier. Peggy gets a little defensive, and Joan says, “Look at you, all in a snit.” Peggy tells her how frustrated she is that “every time a man takes you to lunch around here, you’re the dessert!” Joan agrees that it’s terrible, and Peggy continues, “It’s constant and from every corner! I’m from Bay Ridge. We have manners!” Joan takes on a tone of voice that could pass for motherly and is more like condescending: “Look, dear, I don’t know you that well. But you’re the new girl, and you’re not much, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” I’m gonna be a bad feminist and say I know what Joan means. I worked at a restaurant where almost all the wait staff was male, and even when I would make jokes about a “hostile work environment” brought on by guys trying to throw ice cubes down my shirt, I sort of loved the attention. But no one ever tried to sleep with me in an office during lunch, so I guess Peggy has it worse. She goes back to typing as Joan walks away, and there’s a little montage of every Mad Boy in the office walk past and check her out. Even Big Gay Salvatore looks her up and down. I thought he went home, or to the park to cruise some random dudes? Peggy finishes her task and surreptitiously opens her desk drawer to look at Pete’s postcard from Niagara Falls that she apparently stole off the bulletin board. This is the first step on a long road that leads to building shrines and making animal sacrifices.

Peggy heads to the ladies’ room, clutching her stomach and tearing up a little. She sees Bridget crying into the mirror once again, and decides to straighten her jaunty little neck scarf, pull it together, and go back into the office. Aw, I’m so proud of little Peggy, finally taking care of her own problems (for now, at least).

Doing the opposite is Betty, lying on a couch in a shrink’s office and monologuing about herself. My parents made us go to family therapy on and off for years, and one time I was in there alone with the therapist and I asked if I could lie down on the couch since I was a punk and thought it would be funny to reenact scenes from Freud. She let me, but told me I wasn’t allowed to fall asleep. But I ended up feeling really vulnerable and weird in that position—plus I can only sleep on my stomach. I really disliked therapy because, like Don, I don’t like talking about myself to strangers. That was maybe 2nd grade, I think. The last time I went was maybe freshman or sophomore year of high school, and my parents, sister and I would go into together, but then one time the therapist called and got me on the phone and said she wanted me to come in alone (since it was obvious to all that I was the problem in my family), and I’m still kind of proud of the fact that at 14 or 15 I had the balls to say, “Actually, that’s not going to happen.” And that was the last time I was in therapy. Is it me or am I sharing a lot of personal family secrets in this recap? I guess I don’t have a problem typing about myself. Maybe we should go back to Betty before I spill about all the buildings I may or may not have burned down.

Betty tells the shrink, who stays completely silent, “I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, I do, I’m nervous, I guess? Anxious? I don’t sleep that well, and my hands, well, they’re fine now. It’s like when you have a problem with your car and you go to the mechanic and it’s not doing it anymore. Not that you’re a mechanic [nice parallel to Don’s earlier comment about “open the hood and poke around”]. I guess a lot of people must come here worried about the bomb. Is that true? It’s a common nightmare, people say, I read it in a magazine.” If this show were taking place in the 80’s, she’d say, “Do you think Soho is becoming too… commercial?” and he’s say, “Yes, I read that.” Anyway, I guess potential bomb anxiety, or at least the belief that lots of other people have bomb anxiety, is something Betty and Don have in common. Maybe that’s what they’ve been talking about for all these years while ignoring their thoughts, feelings, and personal history. She continues, “My mother always told me it wasn’t polite to talk about yourself. She passed away, recently. I guess I already said that. Can I smoke in here?” The answer, of course, is yes. She says, looking incredibly sad, “We’re all so lucky to be here.”

Back at Midge’s, Don is sleeping and Midge has a new wig on. She’s on a wig-induced downward spiral, I tell you. She tells him he stinks and needs to take a shower, and Don takes the opportunity to do a little research on the deodorant campaign. “What do women want?” Midge very rightly tells him, “One of the things is not to be asked something like that.” Don brainstorms slogans aloud: “What do women want? You know better than to ask.” He asks Midge for a pen (luckily, a pad of paper magically appears in his left hand), and writes, “What do women want? Any excuse to get closer.” That’s pretty good, and Midge agrees: “You god. There’s that ego people pay to see.”

In the next scene Don has cleaned up and is eating dinner in what looks like the same restaurant as the opening. Was there only one restaurant in 60’s Manhattan? Don asks about Betty’s day, and tells her “You know I work with doctors. They’ll say anything you pay them to.” That’s… not at all comforting, but it’s a fact that’s going to work to Don’s advantage in about 3 minutes. Betty changes the subject to how excited she is to be eating dinner in the city, and Don smoothly transitions away from any uncomfortable talk of human emotions and into an article he read about phone companies charging for unlisted numbers. He tells Betty that some people are giving aliases to the company. He tells her his favorite, “Pat McGroin,” and Betty laughs like it’s the most wittily scandalous thing she’s ever heard. Truman Capote, Don is not. The way these two are talking to each other it’s as if they’re on a first date, not at all like they’ve been married for over 5 years. Even when they’re cute they’re a little scary.

After dinner, Betty and Don walk into the house and Betty goes upstairs. Don goes into his study to make a call to… Betty’s psychiatrist! Violation of the doctor-patient confidentiality agreement alert! I think this scene is the biggest fear of anyone who’s ever been in therapy. The psychiatrist pulls out his notes and starts telling Don, “Your wife is a very anxious woman. I think you’re doing the right thing.” Don settles in for a long discussion of his wife’s innermost thoughts, and the episode ends.

Next time: Pete returns from Niagara Falls, Rachel Menken returns from her Jewish department store, and Helen the divorcee up the block may put some moves on Don.

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