This gonna be LEGEN...wait for it...

...hope you're not lactose intolerant because the next word is...

DARY!

So I started watching CBS’s How I Met Your Mother recently, upon the advice of my roommate. After a marathon venture to clear through season 1 in one nice 9 hour sitting and follow up with the next two seasons in the rest of the week, I can say with certainty that I am a fan.

Clearly, HIMYM’s strongest point is Neil Patrick Harris’s Barney Stinson. I’m not sure if Barney gets the best lines because he is awesome or if Barney is awesome because he gets the best lines but it doesn’t really matter. It’s rare on television today to use catch phrases, and Barney executes so effectively. As Ted points out, Barney’s role in this show is not to get it where it’s going but to always leave it with an awesome story.

How can you not love Marshall and Lily, not only are they an amazingly cute couple but Jason Segel is hilarious and Alyson Hannigan is charming (I don’t find her voice annoying, in opposing opinion of a close friend of mine). Their

And at first I wasn’t a big fan of Ted but after a while he won me over. In all honesty, he’s a really good friend to everybody. If my life were more exciting, I could see myself aspiring to be more like Ted. You know, if I were also like five years older.

I wouldn’t have said this when I first started watching but I think the weak leak is Robin. Normally, I don’t shy away from the attractive female love interest of the show but whenever her plotlines rely solely on the strength of her character, I find it sags a bit. She’s a strong supporting role though, and I don’t think anyone can take away her former Canadian teen idol days away from her.

Strangely, HIMYM has an amazing soundtrack. I’ve heard Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Death Cab for Cutie, The Decemberists, and more great music. Plus all of the songs Marshall sings when he’s doing whatever.

But why do I find HIMYM so appealing? Part of it is because I love watching telelvision. Part of it is because I wish, once again, my life would start to resemble something like it. Part of it is because I’m kind of a sucker for these shows. And the writing doesn’t hurt either.

So in conclusion, How I Met Your Mother is pretty good. It makes me want to hang out in the bar downstairs, play laser tag, and wear suits all the time. True Story.

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Of Lobsters and Pigeons

In the ninth episode of Mad Men, "Shoot," someone gets punched in the face, someone gets bitten, and someone attempts bird murder.

Previously on Mad Men: Peggy and Pete did it on his office couch and then he refused to do the Twist with her, Betty wouldn’t shut up about her dead mom, and Cooper gave Don a big bonus check to show how important he is to the company.

In the front yard of the Draper home, Betty is trimming the hedges while the kids play with Polly the dog (I wish we saw more of Polly—I would totally watch a spinoff called Mad Polly. Is this just me?). The neighbor next door releases half a dozen or so of his carrier pigeons, and all the Drapers take a long moment to watch the birds fly off into the air.

The Drapers are enjoying intermission at the theater when Don runs into Jim Hobart, the head of a competing advertising firm. He says that the word around town is that Don is going to be the next big thing. He compliments Don’s tourism campaign for Rio, but Don says that he wasn’t as successful in winning the Israel account (mentioned in the episode “Babylon”), which went to Jim’s firm. Jim says that it wasn’t Don that lost him the Israelis, but “the tiny store you work in.” He starts describing the resources Don would have behind him if he came to work at Jim’s firm, McCann, and tells Don, “You’ve done your time in the farm leagues. Yankee Stadium is on the line.” Jim’s wife, Adele, walks up, followed soon after by Betty. After a bit of small talk, Adele and Don go to fetch drinks from the bar, leaving Betty with Jim. Jim asks her if she’s an actress, and Betty demurs that she’s a housewife, even though she did do some modeling “a lifetime ago.” Jim tells her that she’s a dead ringer for Grace Kelly, which is no exaggeration. He continues that the Coca Cola campaign he’s working on could use a face like Betty’s. Despite her protests that she’s now retired, Jim gives her his card and tells her to think about it.

In the car on the way home, Betty brings up Jim Hobart, and mentions that he gave her his card. Don assumes first that Jim was trying to use Betty in his quest to steal Don from Sterling Cooper, and then that Jim just wanted to play Prince of Monaco to Betty’s Grace Kelly. Betty tells him that it isn’t so crazy for him to actually want her for a modeling job, and gives Don a big, cheesy smile to prove that she might be right for Coca Cola. Don laughs it off, but when Betty tries to ask whether Don might move to the McCann agency, he ignores her completely.

The next day, Francine is over for some afternoon coffee. While they chat Betty is putting away some toys, including a BB gun. Betty’s also wearing this gorgeous peach sleeveless shirtdress with a silver belt at the waist—I want it. Betty mentions Jim’s courtship of Don, and how he asked her to do some modeling. Francine treats it as a joke, and asks what Don said. “He basically said that the man was trying to sleep with one of us, and he didn’t like the idea of either,” Betty says. The two laugh, and then Betty says more seriously, “I did do some modeling, you know.” Betty says she was a model living in Manhattan when she met Don. She got started when she went to Italy the summer after college, and was muse to an Italian designer named Giovanni. Francine’s all, “Fashion show! Fashion show! Fashion show at lunch!”

Betty is trying on some of her old modeling outfits for Francine in the bedroom. Francine can’t believe that Betty’s relationship with Giovanni was platonic, but I think we can all agree it would be worth getting fondled by an Italian man if you got to keep the adorable minidress Betty’s wearing—shiny pink fabric with a gold floral design, and blue pockets, belt and lapels. It’s a cross between cocktail waitress and flight attendant, but in a sexy, cute sort of way.

Don enters his office, and sees a box on his desk labeled “Personal and Confidential.” Must be porn! Alas, Don is not so lucky. Instead, it’s a towel from the Athletic Club (a swanky gym/spa place that lots of advertising execs go to), a membership card, and a note from Jim Hobart that says “Welcome to the club. Call me.” Don calls Jim to say thank you for the gesture, and Jim tells him it’s not a gesture, “it’s an overture.” He suggests the next step would be a quiet meeting at the Algonquian, but Don isn’t ready to seriously consider leaving Sterling Cooper. Jim lays it all out on the line: Sterling Cooper is a “mom and pop,” and doesn’t attract international clients like Pan Am and Coca Cola. McCann can offer all that, plus $35,000 a year. Jim finishes, “Eventually you come up here, or you die wondering.” Then he hangs up. Awkward endings of phone conversations are probably my biggest TV pet peeve—nobody on TV says, “Alright, nice to talk to you, goodbye now.” It’s all, “Your brother is a murderer,” hang up, stare off into the distance for a few seconds before we head to commercial break. Don hangs up the phone and stares at the membership card for a few seconds, and we head to…..

Betty at the psychiatrist’s office. She’s telling him about Jim Hobart’s modeling talk, and recounts how she met Don on a photo shoot. She was modeling a “Russian blue fox coat”, and Don, just a copywriter, saw how much she hated having to give it back. He asked her out, she said no, and three weeks later he arranged to have the coat sent to her apartment. Betty says that after that she only had two or three more jobs, and then they got engaged, she got pregnant, and they moved to the suburbs. She comments that at that point she felt so old (I believe that Betty is now just 28—so young!), and her shrink says his one line: “Tell me more about that.” Betty goes into her favorite topic: her mother. “My mother was very concerned with looks and weight. And I’ve always eaten a lot, and I like hot dogs. My mother used to say, “You’re going to get stout.” And then I became a model, and she hated it… Manhattan. She called me a prostitute.” Betty’s always talked about her mother like she was some sort of saint, but we’re gradually seeing that their relationship may have been more complicated and dysfunctional when Betty’s mom was alive. I mean, who calls their daughter a prostitute? The psychiatrist states, “You’re angry at your mother.” Betty sits up off the couch and turns around to spit out, “What? Are you going to talk now?” The psychiatrist repeats himself, as if talking to a child. Betty is now angry at her shrink and says, “Of all the things I’ve said in here?” He observes that she’s sitting up. Betty says, “You don’t listen to me. You don’t listen to all the things I say, and then out of nowhere, you provoke me.” The shrink: “Tell me more about that.” (I hope I’m not offending any psychiatrists out there by referring to Betty’s doctor as her shrink. It’s just that shrink is a lot easier to type a bunch of times than psychiatrist, and I’ve totally forgotten this guy’s name.)

With a huff, Betty lies back down and says that she misses her mom. “She wanted me to be beautiful so I could find a man. There’s nothing wrong with that. But then what? Just sit and smoke and let it go until you’re in a box?” This makes Betty think about Jim Hobart, and she finishes, “I don’t care why he gave me his card.”

From on trophy wife to another: the Sterling Cooper men are watching a video of Jackie Kennedy talking, in Spanish. I’m assuming she’s saying “Vote for Kennedy!” but my high school Spanish is so rusty that I can only catch the phrases “it is necessary to have” and “White House” and “November 8th.” After the ad ends, Harry tells the table that he got it from a friend at another ad firm, but it’s already on the air. Ken says, “Am I alone? I don’t understand it.” Paul is delightedly condescending as he says, “Because it’s in Spanish.” Pete makes fun of Jackie’s “finishing school voice,” which is not far at all from Trudie’s whine. Don is in favor of giving up Spanish-speaking voters and ignoring the ad, and Harry reports that Cooper thinks if Kennedy gets any higher in the polls, Nixon will finally officially enlist Sterling Cooper’s help. Don asks why they’re spending so much time on Nixon’s campaign without getting paid, and Pete snots, “I, for one, don’t question the wishes of our clients.” Pete wants so desperately to be liked by Don, but he can’t help but antagonize Don by trying to paint himself as superior every chance he gets.

Pete wants to know if Don thinks that “we” can’t win, since Nixon is ahead in the polls. Don says that it’s not a big lead, and they still can’t figure out how to have any impact alongside the official Nixon campaign. Harry says that he was told to focus on undecided states, so they should come up with a plan of attack just to satisfy Cooper. Salvatore has this to add to the conversation: “I think women will hate [Jackie Kennedy]. It’s like their better looking sister marries a senator and she’s going to live in the White House. I’m practically jealous.” What a shocker. And did women dislike Jackie? I guess that at this point in Jackie’s life she didn’t take on that aura of tragedy that made her so iconic, and so it was easier to be jealous.

Betty is reading a magazine in the kitchen when Don arrives home; she’s obviously flustered since she assumed he was staying in the city. I guess now that Midge is out of the picture, Don has fewer places to go when he’s avoiding his wife and kids. She immediately jumps up and starts fixing him a sandwich—women really got a raw deal in this time period, but man, the men had it made. Betty says that she realized that she misses modeling. Don is surprised that she might want to go back to work, and she assures him it would just be a few days. She says, “I think it would be fun to go in and be that girl again.” Don asks if she’s already made up her mind, and she assures him that it’s just a small thing, and she’ll still be home in time to make him dinner. “I guess I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do,” Don says.

The next day at work, Peggy is working at her desk when she leans over and rips her skirt. She comes into the break room, where Joan and two of the switchboard operators are gossiping, wearing a sweater tied around her waist. Joan immediately notices Peggy’s fashion faux pas and assumes that it’s that time of the month. Peggy explains about the rip, and Joan (after commenting that the sweater isn’t helping Peggy’s silhouette) offers to lend Peggy the extra outfit she has hidden away.

Sterling enters Don’s office carrying a bag of golf clubs, and Don says, “We’re not exactly dressed for that, are we?” I love when Don makes those dry little jokes—I love the idea that there’s this playful side of Don that only peaks it head out rarely. Sterling gets down to business, saying that he’s lost men to rival agencies before, “usually due to my unexpressed confidence. I think you’re one in a million, Draper.” Sterling says that the bonus check was “designed as a kind of armor against men like Jim Hobart,” who is the giver of the golf clubs. Sterling asks what Jim offered, and Don sums it up: more money and slutty Pan Am stewardesses. Sterling says that they’re open to raising Don’s salary, and they can work to attract more big name clients. Don is obviously feeling like the prettiest girl at the ball where every gentleman is fighting for the next dance, but Sterling knows that if Don goes, things will go downhill very quickly for Sterling Cooper. Sterling says that he thought about leaving once, but “it’s daunting. Why entertain the prospect of failure?” I don’t think this is the right tactic to take with a man who asked out a model who looks exactly like Grace Kelly. Don says that he hasn’t made up his mind yet, and as Sterling gets up he tells Don, “I’m taking this very personally.” Don is surprised and claims that this is just business. “Is it,” Sterling says, a bit bitterly, as he walks out the door. And really, it shows a lack of insight in Don that he would recognize that Sterling sees Don as a friend as well as a meal ticket, and no man likes to lose either.

The Mad Boys are gathered around a table, gossiping like a bunch of middle school girls about Don’s offer from McCann-Erikson. Pete, predictably, says that Sterling Cooper should just let him go. Paul wants to go with him, and Harry is trying to imagine how much money Don would get—“I heard he’s making thirty already.” “He’s not ten times better than me,” Pete says, and the other guys give him looks that say, “You only make $3,000?” Heh. And Pete: Don’s at least 200 times better than you. Paul teasingly says, “You love him. Everybody loves him.” Pete says, “Sure. His moods, and the way he talks. I don’t even know what he’s saying half the time.” That’s because you’re an idiot, Pete. At that moment, Peggy walks by, wearing Joan’s bright red dress that probably looks bomb on Joan but fits Peggy very poorly. The Mad Boys take notice, and Paul admits that he thought about nailing Peggy once, but “she’s having a very bad freshman year.” Ken says, “They went nuts for her writing. Belle Jolie? She did that.” Ken isn’t always a perfect gentleman, but I want to make out with him for talking up her brains when the topic is her hips. Paul says that Belle Jolie was ok (jealous, much?), but “she obviously let it go to her head. And other places.” Ken says something sexist and gross, and I’m not going to recap it because I want to continue to love him. Pete dismissingly says, “Who thinks about her? Maybe she’ll go with Draper, too.” “It’s a tragedy,” Ken says, “piece of fruit that went real bad, real fast, and no one ever got to eat it.” Pete makes a hilariously shifty face, then claims he needs to get back to work.

At the modeling audition, all the other women are wearing understated shift dresses and Capri pants, and Betty is dressed to the nines in a big poofy ballgown with a big bow on the bust. She looks like a cupcake, but she’s trying to maintain her dignity nevertheless. Jim Hobart enters and greets Betty, and she immediately apologizes for overdoing it wardrobe-wise. Ronnie, the art director for the Coca Cola campaign, gives Salvatore a run for his gay money when he assures Betty that he’s “overwhelmed by the style of it.” Before going into the shoot, Jim pulls her aside to remind her that this is just a try out, no guarantees. She sweetly reassures him that she knows.

Harry’s on Pete’s couch, and the two are actually talking about business for once. The topic is Secor, the laxative company, and Harry says something overly technical about what sort of media he’s buying as a media buyer. Harry says, “Who knew that college was going to get me out of the army and into laxatives?” “College was the moment, wasn’t it?” Pete observes. The two compare fraternity experiences, and Pete tells a story about the funeral his frat decided to throw for their mascot, a stray dog named Mamie. They heard that their rival frat was having a beauty pageant thing on Main Street, so they got a permit to go down there and throw a giant parade for Mamie’s funeral. They carried the dead dog (ew!) down the street in a kid’s wagon, and all the girls ran away crying. The two laugh, but then a light bulb goes off in Pete’s extremely dull head. Nixon and Kennedy are racing against each other to see who can buy the most airtime in the undecided states, so if they buy a lot of media for Secor Laxatives in those states, Kennedy won’t be able to match Nixon’s airtime. He sums it up: “We’re selling laxatives. Nixon’s selling Nixon. And Kennedy’s watching Mamie’s funeral.” Harry has the good sense to be scared at the fact that Pete might actually have a good idea.

At the Draper home, Don is sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Let me tell you: big man, little furniture? Surprisingly sexy. Betty comes back from talking on the phone in the other room, and happily announces that she was chosen for the cola job. Betty downplays the job, saying that it’s just a few days work, but she’s obviously giddy about it. Don says, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ruin this,” which… thanks? Should Betty go bake you a cake that says, “Thank you for not being an asshole this one time?” He finishes that he’s very happy for her, which are the magic words for getting into Betty’s hoop skirt. She turns off the TV and starts putting the moves on Don. In between kisses, she says, “I know you don’t like it. But I know you’re a little bit proud of me.” As he unzips her dress she suggests they go upstairs, but Don says, “No. Right here.” Hot. So much hotter than when Pete and Peggy did it in his office.

The next day, the babysitter (for some reason I always thought Ethel was a young black girl, while this woman is white and very old) snores on the couch as Sally, Bobby, and Polly run by. Betty is at the photo shoot, looking even more gorgeous than usual. She’s with a dark haired man, a young girl, and younger boy, and a dog—it’s pretty much an exact copy of the Draper family, if the Drapers ever went on a picnic. Back at home, Sally, Bobby and Polly are watching the neighbor’s pigeons fly back home. As one bird comes in for a landing, Polly leaps into the air (this is like Air Bud: The Unrated Edition) and catches it in her mouth. The kids and neighbor all freak out, and the neighbor retrieves the wounded bird and tells the kids, “If I see that dog in my yard again, I’m going to shoot it.” And I thought one dad slapping another dad’s son (at Sally’s birthday party) was bad. I mean, really, who says that to two kids under the age of 10? The sort of lonely freak who’s really into pigeons, I guess.

That night, Don arrives home for dinner and Betty reports that everyone had a very nice day, her in the city and the kids with Ethel. Don asks how the shoot was, and he seems genuinely interested! She laughs about how funny Ronnie, the art director, was, and asks for Don’s help in fulling out the payroll form. Who filled those out for her before she met Don? Her prostitute-hating mother?

Don and Betty are sleeping in bed when Sally comes in crying over a nightmare. Don pulls her into bed with them (awww), and Sally says that she doesn’t want anyone to shoot Polly. Betty assures her that no one would do that, but Sally corrects her that Mr. Mean Neighbor said he would. Don asks if this was in her dream, and the truth about that afternoon comes out. After Betty takes Sally back to bed, Don tells Betty that he’s going to “put my robe on, go over there, find out what happened.” I love when Don is being a sort-of good father, since it’s rather rare. Betty says that going over there at 2 in the morning will make it worse, and she’ll talk to him. “You should have Ethel talk to him,” Don says passive-aggressively. Betty points out that it could have happened if she was home, too. She tells him that it’s just one more shoot, and the kids will be over at Francine’s . Don accepts this, and says, “She never slept well.” “That not true,” Betty says. Again, Don Draper: not often world’s greatest dad. Betty laughs a little and asks, “Did you see those big tears? I really want to get a picture of her crying one day.” Yeah, and then twenty years later Sally will tell her psychologist, “My mom always took photos of me crying,” and her psychologist will say, “Tell me more.”

At the offices, the Mad Boys are in Don’s office, complimenting him on the Lucky Strike campaign. Paul calls it a “super-sonic jet flying right over the market,” which is way overkill. Everyone sits and takes in Paul’s ass-kissing skills, and then Cooper and Sterling burst in, asking “Who is responsible?” Sterling explains about all the airtime for Secor laxative commercials they’ve bought, and Don says that no one ran it by him. Cooper asks again who’s responsible, and Harry reluctantly pipes up that it was him. “You thought of this?” Cooper says, and Harry stammers as it looks like Pete is going to completely let Harry take the fall. Finally, Pete chimes in that he bears some of the responsibility, as well. Harry looks resigned to getting fired, while Pete just looks super constipated. Don asks what they did, and Cooper gets to the point: Kennedy can’t get a hold of any airtime, because they already bought it for Secor. Cooper laughs, “They’re going to have to put his pretty face on the radio!” Cooper congratulates the two, and Sterling says, “I didn’t think you had it in you. And I mean that.” Aw, Sterling, master of the backhanded compliment. It’s unclear which of the two he’s talking to, but I think most of the glory is going to Harry for speaking up first. Don passes on his congratulations as well, and Pete swarms, “Peggy, you want to write that down? Don said congratulations.” Looking all sorts of self-satisfied, Pete jumps up and asks if they’re done with the meeting. Don says no, and Pete has to postpone his victory lap for a little while longer.

The thing about Pete is, he’s not actually awful at his job. Besides the Mamie’s funeral idea, he had the “Kennedy as Elvis” comparison, and “Bethlehem Steel: Backbone of America.” Even his “death wish” take on Lucky Strike isn’t far off from the “smoking is for manly men” campaigns of Marlboro. But he’s just so insufferable that you can’t help but want him to fail.

After the meeting, the Mad Boys are having celebratory drinks in Pete’s office. Harry is a lot better natured than I would be about how Pete “almost let [him] detonate a 1,000 feet from the ground.” Hilde, Pete’s secretary, comes in with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s sent over from Fred Rumson. She tries to leave, but Pete orders her to stay and have a drink with them. She politely declines, and Pete acts like he’s the fucking King of England and says, “When something good happens to me, it also happens to you.” “I know, I said congratulations.” Pete continues, “You should do something with that sourpuss. You’re really very beautiful.” I hate when random men on the street tell me to smile, even though I know it’s way better intentioned than anything that’s ever come out of Pete’s mouth. But hello, I’m a human being with an interior life; I don’t exist just to give you something to look at, so I have no obligation to smile just because it would improve your view. Hilde obviously thinks along the same times, as she responds to this by frowning even deeper. Also, this scene is just like when Christian Bale tells Chloe Sevigny to wear more skirts to work in American Psycho, except somehow I would rather work for Patrick Bateman than Pete Campbell. Pete continues grossily, “I’m just being honest. I love watching you walk.” He holds out a glass, but Hilde makes no move to take it. Finally, he lets her go, and the rest of the Mad Boys laugh—probably equally at Pete’s failure to seduce his secretary and at Hilde’s painful discomfort.

Don gets an envelope marked “personal and confidential”—more porn at the office? No, it’s another gift from Jim Hobart, this one consisting of photos of Betty modeling at the Coca Cola shoot and a note that says “Give me a call.” Don is obviously not happy to realize that Jim is using Betty a pawn in his quest to woo Don. I think there’s also some element of discomfort seeing his wife being someone else’s wife and mother, even if it’s fake, and maybe he also knows that turning down Jim Hobart will result in Betty returning home for good. Don looks disgusted, and heads to Sterling’s office.

Sterling greets Don, goes to pour some drinks, and jokes, “I can give you my assurance that nothing good will happen to that boy, although I can’t seem to keep my word on that, as hard as I try.” Sterling obviously thinks that Don has decided to move onto greener pastures, but Don tells him, “I see no reason to leave. Or maybe I see a million.” “A million? Is that what it’s going to cost me?” Sterling replies. Don bargains him into a $45,000 a year salary—if Don is making $30,000 a year, like the Mad Boys were speculating before, than he just got a 50% raise! Don says that he’s staying because he likes the way S-C does business, and Sterling responds, “I try to be as civilized as you can be.” That is exactly the right answer. Don tells him that if he does leave one day, it won’t be for more advertising. “What else is there?” Sterling asks. “I don’t know, life being lived? I’d like to stop talking about it and get back to it.” Big talk, but what life is Don looking to get back to? Devoting himself full time to ignoring his family and screwing around with his mistress? Or does he picture himself leaving both his job and his family and starting over somewhere else? Sterling says that men like Don would die in the middle of a pitch if they got the choice, but Don says that he’s already done that. “I want to do something else.” Wouldn’t it be ironic if Don gave up advertising to focus on his dreams of becoming a pro baseball player, and then he died while pitching?

Don returns to his office and asks Peggy to get him Jim Hobart on the phone. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but on the off chance that you’re reading these recaps but not watching the show: Peggy has definitely gained weight. Costumes and makeup are doing such an incredible job, because you can tell even when she’s sitting behind a desk. Anyway, Jim starts off by saying how great Betty looked in those photos, and Don can’t disagree. “So, your wife is already here with us, and I know she’s happy, so why don’t you join her?” Jim says. Don says he’s not so sure, even though he knows that McCann is “Yankee Stadium” (Don’s life will be just like The Rookie when he quits advertising!), and it’s not about the money. Jim says, “I’m surprised. I thought your wife coming here meant you were interested.” Don corrects him that that was Betty’s idea, and Jim lightly says, “Can’t blame me for trying.” Uh, for using an employee’s wife as a puppet in some sham ad campaign? Yeah, I think you can blame him. Don picks up the photos and says, “Maybe not, but I can’t exactly say that was a big league move.” Jim makes some vague excuses for being an asshole, and says, “It’s a pity to lose both of you. You’re a very lucky man, landing that woman.” Then Jim hangs up, because he finds proper goodbyes a sign of weakness.

Joan runs into Peggy in the break room, and asks what’s going on with Mr. Draper. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Peggy says, proving that she’s definitely learned. Peggy gets Joan’s dress from the other day, but Joan suggests that Peggy keep it and get it tailored. Peggy refuses, and Joan goes into Queen Bee/ Mother Hen mode: “Peggy, you are failing prey to a very common situation among new girls.” Peggy corrects her that she’s not new anymore, and Joan continues, “That’s just it. Don’t you want to do well here?” Peggy stands up for herself and points out that she’s the first girl in the office to do any writing since the war, which is definitely something to be proud of. “Writing? Is that what this was about? I thought you were doing that to get close to Paul.” Turns out that Joan is not as clued into the office dynamics as she thinks she is. Joan tells Peggy that she heard Peggy was chosen for an account because a client’s wife saw her and thought it’d be ok for her husband to work with her. That’s almost exactly how Betty got hired on Ugly Betty, and that worked out pretty well for her (I guess—I’ve only seen the first season). And really, why would that scenario be such a bad thing for Peggy? If she’s getting work because she looks bad, it’s still work. Peggy gets up in Joan’s face and tells her that Joan isn’t a stick either. “And yet I never wonder what men think of me,” Joan snaps back. “You’re hiding a very attractive young girl with ‘too much lunch.’” Oh yes, the claws are coming out, and I wish there was a Mad Boy in the background making “Meow!” sounds. Peggy says, “I know what men think of you. That you’re looking for a husband, and you’re fun. And not in that order.” Joan states that “This isn’t China, there’s no money in virginity,” and Peggy says she’s not a virgin. Joan sent Peggy to her doctor to get birth control on Peggy’s first day of work, so Joan is probably aware of this. Peggy looks at Joan and says softly, “I just realized something. You think you’re being helpful.” Joan says, in her most motherly tone, “I am trying, dear.” Peggy states that she’s going home, and walks away.

Betty is doing another photo shoot, and the guy playing her husband totally reminds me of that creepy plasticky guy from those erectile dysfunction commercials. You know who I mean, right? The photographer finishes shooting, and Ronnie comes over to say he has good news and bad news. The bad news, he says, is that the client is moving it’s international campaign to London and wants “more Audrey Hepburn, less Grace Kelly.” But the good news is that Betty can use the photos from the shoot for her modeling book in the future. Betty is obviously deeply upset, and Ronnie assures her, “It has nothing to do with you.” Yeah, it’s all about Don, just like everything else in her life. Ronnie leaves, and Betty stands alone, failing to suppress her tears, as a wardrobe assistant takes her necklace off. I would love if Betty went all Naomi instead and starting throwing rotary phones at people.

It’s the end of the day at the Sterling Cooper offices, and the Mad Boys and Girls are hanging out by the desks, drinking and smoking (as always). They watch Peggy leave without stopping to join in the after-hours revelry, and Ken observes, “it probably wasn’t going to happen for her tonight.” “Depends on how much we drink,” Paul says. Uh, she rejected both of you when she was skinny, so don’t act like you’d be doing her any big favors by sexually harassing her now. Ken says that the guys at his brother’s workplace call a girl like Peggy “a lobster: all the meat’s in the tail.” Harry and Paul laugh, and Pete gets up to go. Paul changes the subject, but then Pete whirls around and punches Ken in the jaw. Aw, he’s defending Peggy’s honor! Or the honor of her ass. Ken and Pete are rolling around the desks fighting when Don and Sterling emerge from their offices. Totally ignoring the scuffle in the corner, Sterling offers to drop Don off at the train station and Don accepts. Heh!

The other men finally manage to separate Ken and Pete. Ken asks Pete what’s wrong with him, but honestly doesn’t sound too upset about getting punched. Paul gathers one under each arm and says, “You two just had a fight, and I was not a part of it. Now either you too make up, or I do not stand a chance tonight.” Ken and Pete shake hands in support of Paul’s penis.

Don arrives at home to a fully set table and Betty in full housewife mode. He asks about that day’s shoot, and she says that it was fun, and they were talking about “a whole string of other possibilities for me.” Betty lies that she decided she doesn’t want to work anymore, and she doesn’t like Don coming home to a non-gourmet meal. She adds, “Frankly, I don’t like Manhattan on my own. It’s harsh.” All the while, Don is staring intently at her, knowing the real reason Betty won’t be doing any more modeling, and knowing how much pain it’s causing her. Don takes her hand and says that if she wants to keep pursuing modeling, she can. “It’s my job to give you what you want,” he finishes. Betty looks around at the Draper mansion and assures him that he does—because, of course, what more could a housewife want than a three car garage? Don leans in and says, “Birdie, you know I don’t care about making my dinner, or taking in my shirts. You have a job: you’re a mother to those two little people and you are better at it than anyone else in the world.” Aw, when Don turns on the sincerity (whether his sincerity is sincere or not is debatable), it’s hard to resist. Betty looks deeply touched, and Don says, “I would have given anything to have had a mother like you. Beautiful, and kind, and filled with love like an angel.” Betty tells him he’s sweet, and she valiantly tries to pretend that his words can undo all the damage done that day.

The next morning, Betty is making breakfast for the kids as Don leaves for work. He tells her to have a good day, and she says, “I already am.” The rest of the morning is spent doing laundry, and at 1 pm she’s still in her nightgown, smoking away. She goes outside to watch the pigeons fly back to her neighbor’s coop, and watches them as thoughtfully as she did in the beginning of the episode. And then she puts her cigarette in her mouth, lifts up a BB gun, and opens fire on those rats with wings. The neighbor starts yelling, but Betty ignores him and continues with her cathartic target practice.

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Hobo A-Go-Go

In the eighth episode of Mad Men, "The Hobo Code," Don gets high with Midge, Salvatore fails to come out of the closet, and the rest of the Mad Boys and Girls do the Twist.

Previously on Mad Men: Peggy was asked to do some copywriting for Belle Jolie lipsticks, Don’s mistress Midge was a crazy hippie, Salvatore was blindingly gay, and Pete slept with Peggy on the night before his wedding.

Pete and Peggy ride the elevator up to their floor together; both have come into the office early. Peggy says that she was too nervous to sleep, since her copy is being presented to the Belle Jolie people today. Pete came in early because he has to go home at lunch to supervise the move to his and Trudie’s new apartment, and might not get back to the office in the afternoon. A bit later in the morning, Pete is sitting in his office, staring out the window, when Peggy stops by. She offers to get him some coffee when she goes to get a cup for herself. Pete, in a really creepy tone, tells her to come in and shut the door behind her. Peggy does, because she’s an idiot, and I more than halfway expected Pete to start smacking her around. But instead, Pete tells her how hard it is to see her walking around her everyday, then grabs her face and starts making out. At one point he pulls her ponytail back, exposing her neck the way farmers do before cutting the heads off chickens. Not hot! Icky! He pulls the couch in front of the door, and Pete and Peggy have sex. I recently rewatched the episode Ladies’ Room, where Paul and Peggy become friends but then he blows it by coming onto her. He suggests that they pull the couch in front of the door and have sex while everyone leaves the office for lunch—almost exactly what Peggy ends up doing with Pete six episodes later.

Afterwards, Peggy and Pete are putting their clothes back on when Pete tells her that he never read the copy she wrote for Belle Jolie. She’d rather that he didn’t read it than he didn’t like it, so she’s not upset. He stops her from going and tries to explain, “I have all these things going on in my head and I can’t say them.” She asks if he thinks about her, and he says, “A few times. You’re only twenty yards away.” He continues that when he looks into Trudie’s eyes, he knows how wrong they are together. Peggy brushes his hair off his forehead and tenderly tells him, “You’re not alone in this.”

In the switchboard operating room, a new girl is listening to Salvatore talk, in Italian, to his mother. She’s infatuated with this caring, suave man, despite never meeting him. Joan brings in some breakfast pastries, and the new girl asks Joan what Salvatore looks like. She sums him up as handsome, debonair, with expensive, possibly European cologne. They compliment her knowledge of the office men, and Joan says, “You have voices, I have other things.”

Don arrives to the office, and Peggy lets him know that Mr. Cooper, but not Sterling, is waiting to talk to him. Don notices that the collar of her blouse is ripped (a sex-related injury), and Peggy smoothly lies that she caught it on something.

Don, barefoot, enters Cooper’s office. Cooper tells him that he wants to “quantify” how appreciative Sterling Cooper is of Don’s talents, and hands over a bonus check for $2,500. Don’s a bit speechless, but Cooper brushes off Don’s gratitude and changes the topic to Ayn Rand. He says that Atlas Shrugged is “the one,” and he knows that Don hasn’t read it. “See, when you hit 40, you realize that you’ve met or seen every kind of person there is. And I know what kind you are, because I believe we are alike.” Don is unsure if Cooper means this as a compliment, and Cooper continues, “You are a productive and reasonable man, and in the end, completely self-interested.” Don looks a bit taken aback at this assessment, but Cooper explains, “It’s strength. We are different. Unsentimental about all the people who depend on our hard work.” Like your wives and children? I’m a fan of The Fountainhead, but it’s a pretty well-established fact that a lot of Ayn Rand fans just use her theories as an excuse to be assholes to people they consider inferior.

The new switchboard operator wanders into the art department hoping to see Salvatore for herself. She introduces herself as Lois, and claims that she got lost trying to find accounting to drop off some paperwork. Sal is very charming and suave as he gives her directions, while the other two art department guys, geeky young Marty and old bald Dwayne, just gawk like they’ve never seen a woman before. Before leaving, Lois awkwardly repeats the greeting Salvatore gave his mother on the phone earlier: “Ciao, ciao!” After she leaves, Sal heteros it up and says that he wasn’t sure about buying the tie he’s wearing, but “I’d have bought it right away if I knew it worked.” Marty tells him that it’s not the tie, and all the girls flirt with Sal.

Pete is drinking alone in his office when Hildy buzzes that Trudie is outside. Pete quickly hides his drink in a file cabinet, and jumps up to pretend that he’s happy to see his wife. She says that she wanted them to walk together to their new home, and brought a bottle of champagne. He tells her that his day is busier than he thought. Trudie goes to sit on the couch, and when she turns to put her purse down Pete rushes over to flip the other couch cushion. Heh! She asks if it really matters if Pete skips out for a long lunch, and he harshly yells at her, “This is my office! How do you think it looks?” She suggests that it looks like she loves him. Pete changes tactics and scolds her like a naughty toddler: “You see what happens when you show up here like this? We fight.” Trudie pouts about how he’s killed her apartment buzz, and Pete apologizes and goes to open the champagne. Trudie says she’s sorry too: “We’re going to live there a long time. There’s no point in being superstitious.” Did she want to be carried over the threshold or something? Pete looks nauseous at the idea of spending the rest of his life with Trudie.

Fred Rumson, the man who suggested Peggy wrote copy, is presenting the new ads to the Belle Jolie people in a meeting while Don looks on. Fred describes it as a “From many, one” sort of thing, with each woman having her own unique lipstick from a “basket of kisses” that “colors her kiss, and her kiss, well, colors her man. Belle Jolie lipstick: Mark your man.” Salvatore unveils the artwork, which has the slogan “Mark your man” over drawings of a woman smiling in the foreground and a man with a big lipstick kiss on his cheek in the background. Mr. Belle Jolie bitches that there’s only one color in the ads, and women want colors, “lots and lots of colors.” He sarcastically says that maybe they’ll just make five shades, or one. Ken tries to change Mr. Jolie’s mind by calling it a “fresh approach,” but Don stops him. He stands up and closes his folder, suggesting that they call it a day. Mr. Jolie is surprised that Don is giving up so easily, but it’s all part of Don’s plan.

“You’re a non-believer,” he starts. “Why should we waste time on kabuki?” Mr. Jolie doesn’t know what “kabuki” means (it’s a form of Japanese theater with really elaborate makeup), so Don says, “You’ve already tried your plan, and you’re number 4. You’ve enlisted my expertise and you’ve rejected it to go on the way you’ve been going. I’m not interested in that. You can understand.” Mr. Jolie tells them that he doesn’t think Don is entitled to change the core of his business. Don says, “Listen, I’m not here to tell you about Jesus. You already know about Jesus: either he lives in your heart or he doesn’t.” Fred and Ken stare at Don with, “WTF did this come from and where is it going?” looks. “Every woman wants choices. But in the end, none wants to be one of a hundred in a box.” I love how both Fred and Don worked Peggy’s off-hand comments, along with her writing, into the meeting. “She’s unique. She makes the choices and she chooses him. She wants to tell the world, ‘He’s mine.’ He belongs to me, not you. She marks her man with her lips. He is her possession. You’ve given every girl who wears your lipstick the gift of total ownership.”

That is undoubtedly quite a speech—comparing having Jesus in your heart to “getting” the message of this campaign? Well done. And it’s impressive how well Don can sell the idea of female ownership of a man without believing in it at all. Don Draper being some girl’s possession, even if that girl is his wife or his mistress or his Jewish department store heiress? Never gonna happen.

Mr. Belle Jolie takes another look at the ads and tells Draper to sit back down. Don knows he’s holding all the cards: “No. Not until I know I’m not wasting my time.” Mr. Jolie repeats the order to sit down as a way of telling him that they’re all in.

After the meeting, Ken offers to give Mr. Jolie and his younger partner directions back to their hotel. The young guy says that their hotel was just renovated, and it reminds him of a steamship. Plus, the other night he had a drink in the lobby with Robert Mitchum! All the men shake hands goodbye, and Mr. Jolie tells Don that he hopes Don’s right about the campaign. “Well, we’ll never know, will we?” he says. Mr. Jolie’s like, “Huh?” and Don tells him that it’s not a science, but they do their best. As the Jolie men leave, Ken tells Don how his “Jesus” speech was probably better than “dangling them out the window by their ankles.” This seems a bit anachronistic to me—I associate that particular business practice with hip hop record label guys like Suge Knight, although I guess maybe the same thing went on during the Rat Pack era with Mob bosses and what not. Don tells Ken that he’ll learn to realize that “at a certain point, seduction is over and force is actually being requested.” Is that another way of saying, “Her mouth said no, but her eyes said yes”? The men all laugh as they head into Don’s office, blowing right by Peggy, who looks ready to explode if they make her wait any longer to hear if her copy was accepted. She can hear them laughing some more when Don buzzes her on the phone to bring some ice in.

She dutifully brings in a small bowl of ice, and Don gestures to the glass of whiskey. She asks how many cubes, and Don says, “How do you take it?” Peggy looks up in surprise, and Fred tells her the Belle Jolie meeting was a “home run, ballerina.” Shouldn’t it be either “home run, softball slugger,” or “triple pirouette, ballerina”? Peggy takes a little sip, and Salvatore teases her, “You call that celebrating?” She downs the rest, and the men laugh. Peggy says that she was worried because the meeting was so long, and Don tells her that the Belle Jolie people loved her writing right away. Fred says that Don’s being modest: “Don walked around the village three times, and then set it on fire.” Peggy asks to see the artwork, and after calling it marvelous, asks, “I thought it was going to say, ‘It’s the mark you make on your man’?” Aw, I love assertive Peggy! Fred says, “You may be a writer, honey. You’re arrogant.” She laughs at herself, and Don offers her another drink. “I don’t know, she says, and Don and Fred joke in unison, “Not a writer.”

In the break room, Lois the new operator is writing her name on some list. Another operator walks up to tell her not to do that, because “they keep track of everything we do here. Have you never heard of Joseph McCarthy?” “It’s the bowling team,” Lois says. Heh. Peggy bursts in to spread her good news about the Belle Jolie account, and Joan tells her, with some degree of good natured-ness, “I’m glad your other work was suffering for a reason.” Joan is standing on the other side of the room from Peggy and the other girls, who are congratulating and encouraging her. You can see that Joan is a little stunned and jealous that a woman could be getting attention for something other than her assets or conquests, so to speak, but she also seems a bit proud of little Peggy. The girls all decide to go out after work to celebrate.

The Mad Boys are gathered in Pete’s office, and Harry notices the bottle of champagne. Pete pretends it was a gift from a client. Paul asks Pete what happened to the big apartment move, and Pete says that he told Trudie, “I already have a job.” “Do they ever stop asking for things?” Harry asks rhetorically. I don’t know, are you going to stop asking for dinner every night? Peggy knocks and enters, eager to tell Pete her good news. Ken, Paul and Harry all congratulate her sincerely, and the three do some funny banter about how Ken’s a published author but can’t write copy. Pete just stares silently at Peggy, looking more horny than happy. Peggy spreads the word about the celebration party tonight, and Paul tells her that since Cooper, Sterling and Draper have already left for the day, they should go right now. Pete says he doesn’t know if he can leave early, since “I’m kind of senior ranking when those other men are gone.” Is he really? This is the man who come back from his honeymoon to find a Chinaman, his family and a chicken in his office—not exactly a sign of respect from lower employees. Paul laughs that Pete’ll be there, but Pete awkwardly says that he should probably go home. Peggy’s trying to maintain her chipperness, and reminds him that if they go to the bar at 3 then he can go home at 5. Pete agrees, and Peggy leaves. As she walks back to her desk, she checks that no one is watching and then does a little bit of skipping. Aw.

Salvatore’s phone rings, and it’s Lois, claiming to have a call for him. She pretends that it got disconnected, but Salvatore knows there was no call. She tells him how great she heard his Belle Jolie artwork was, and that he has to come out with them for drinks. “This is Lois Sadler, by the way,” she says very endearingly. I’m a big fan of that old joke where a guy calls a girl’s answering machine and leaves this big, heartfelt message, like, “I love you so much and I shouldn’t have run over your dog with my car, and I know you told me that you could never forgive me, but I’m so sorry and I love you and would be devastated if I lost you so please, please give me another chance. Oh, this message is from Bill.” I’m pretty easy when it comes to self-deprecating humor. Anyway, Salvatore assures her that he knows who she is, and promises to be there. After he hangs up, he gives a long look at the phone. The flirting, being smooth with women part? Easy. Dealing with her expectations afterwards is harder.

Don knocks on Midge’s door, which is answered by a man wearing a fez. Roy appears too, the man who took Don and Midge to that jazz club and then got all, “How do you sleep at night working at an ad firm? I’m an artist!” Don brushes past them and sees two other girls inside, plus Midge. Midge is wearing a black skirt and this cropped Mexican peasant blouse that I find really, really cute. He greets her with a huge kiss, obviously marking his territory in front of her beatnik friends. He tells her to pack a bag, because they’re going to Paris. He pulls out his bonus check (he claims he doesn’t know what it’s for), and it just kills me that Midge is what Don wants to spend that money on—not his wife or his kids, or even saving it for another secret brother that could pop up and need to be paid off. On the other hand, it kills me that Midge says no, because who wouldn’t want to go to Paris with Don Draper? She tells him that she has a special night planned already, and he’s going to stay and join in. The Fez dude pulls out some drugs, and Roy tells Don that the plan is to “get high and listen to Miles.” Pretentious much? Don is suitably unimpressed, but Midge says that they can smoke now and screw later, when it’ll be a lot more fun. Don lights up and could not look more out of place in his dapper suit and tie.

Later, everyone’s lying around and probably claiming that they “can see the colors of the music, man.” One of the girls offers Don the joint, and he declines. After a second, he dopily says ok and takes a hit. Don Draper is smiling goofily! That’s so new! Don goes to the bathroom, looks into the mirror, and falls into a flashback!

Little Dick Whitman, around age 8 or 9, is digging a hole in his yard while his not-mother hangs up laundry. They’re obviously on a farm in the middle of nowhere. A rattily dressed man comes down the road, and asks if there’s any way the family can spare a meal for him. Dick’s father, Archie, tells him to look around, “we’re not Christians here no more.” Abigail, Archie’s wife but not Dick’s mom, hoarsely says that’s not true, and Archie says that even if they were, there’s no work to be done here today. The hobo asks if he can come back tomorrow, but Abigail says that he can stay and eat dinner with them, and do the work in the morning. This woman doesn’t seem so bad; not the type of person you’d hear died of stomach cancer and say “good.” She interrupts her conversation with the hobo to yell at Dick to stop digging holes—maybe this is why Dick hates her so much, because she robbed him of his true calling in life, hole-digging. She orders him to go start a fire, and the hobo waves hello. Dick starts backing away wordlessly, and the hobo says that Dick reminds him of himself. Abigail says, “That doesn’t surprise me at all,” in a tone that’s insulting to both the hobo and Dick.

At dinner, the hobo thanks them profusely for the meal, and says that he’s from New York, originally. Archie says, “New York. That’s how you took to being a bum so easy.” Abigail admonishes him that “nobody takes to charity easy,” and the bum says that he’s been a worker, even if he doesn’t know much about farming. Abigail asks if the hobo’s a communist, and the two agree that the souls of communists are obviously damned to hell. The hobo has now passed her test, and as Abigail stands up she says, “My mother always said that life was like a horseshoe: it’s fat in the middle, open on both ends, and hard all the way through.” She sets a quarter on the table for the hobo, but Archie leans over to take it back. He tells him that the hobo will get it tomorrow, after working. Instead of being pissed, the hobo repeats his thanks. All the time, Dick is sitting at the table, silently looking down at his food.

At the Roosevelt Hotel, Elliot (the younger Belle Jolie man) is drinking at the bar when Salvatore walks up. They greet each other warmly, and Elliot says, “When I mentioned the renovation, I didn’t know if you heard me.” Is that some sort of secret gay code? Salvatore says that he got it, and the two men gently flirt. Elliot says that even though he’s really a homebody, every time he comes to New York he gets a thrill. Salvatore agrees that New York is a masterpiece, but he takes it for granted. Elliot says that he always gets a hotel room with a view, because when you look at the buildings in a row, “it’s like you can do anything.”

At the bar, all of the Sterling Cooper underlings are drinking and dancing. Peggy’s doing the cha cha with Fred Rumson, and it’s rather adorable. Joan is by the jukebox, and tells Lois, “I’m not saying that Peggy doesn’t have something upstairs. It’s just that at Sterling Cooper, things are usually happening downstairs.” Lois is a little put-off by this comment, but is more interested in searching for Salvatore. Paul comes up and takes Joan’s arm, and they hit the dance floor. Joan’s dancing is hilarious: she holds her hands in front of her and just slightly moves her hips back and forth. It looks silly when you’re used to modern dancing, but since it’s Joan, it’s way sexy. Pete is leaning against the wall, looking mopey that Peggy is so happy and cute. The song ends, and when the opening bars of “The Twist” comes on, all the girls scream and clap and rush to the dance floor. I’m having flashbacks to when they played “Since You’ve Been Gone” at prom senior year of high school. Everyone but Pete is twisting away, and I just find it ridiculously cute. Can we bring the Twist back? Please?

Peggy twists happily, then makes eye contact with Pete. She slowly makes her way over to him, still twisting away. It’s a bit sexy, in that earnest Peggy way. She leans in close to Pete’s face and says, “Dance with me.” Pete looks at her, resentful of her success, and says, “I don’t like you like this.” Well, his short story may have been crap, but occasionally, Pete has a way with words. Peggy looks destroyed (they just had sex on his couch this morning and now he won’t dance with her!), and chokes back tears as she heads back to the dance floor.

At the Roosevelt, Elliot and Salvatore are having dinner. They chat casually about the nature of happiness. Elliot leans in and tells Sal, “You’re loud, but you’re shy.” Sal brushes off Elliot’s attempts to figure him out, and Elliot asks, “So, what do you want to do?” Sal says that he’d like to start his own ad firm, with an emphasis on art. Elliot says that he meant with regards to the view from Elliot’s hotel room—“You have to see it.” Sal is unsure, and things are getting awkward and heartbreakingly sad in equal measure. He tells Elliot that he’s thought about it, and he knows what he wants to do, but… Elliot assures Sal and says, “I know what you’re thinking. I’ll show you.” Sal is tempted, but shakes his head no. “What are you afraid of?” Elliot asks. Sal is totally shocked at Elliot’s flippancy, and asks, “Are you joking?” Sal’s stare conveys all of his fears: losing his friends, his job, his identity, losing everything if someone found out he is gay. Plus, having to go up to a strange man’s room to have sex for the first time? The scariest. Sal excuses himself and leaves. Aw, please let Sal find the love he deserves in season two!

Back at Midge’s Apartment of Pot and Flashbacks, the beatniks have formed a train and are hopping around the apartment when Don comes out of the bathroom. The fun is interrupted by the sound of sirens, probably coming for the guy next door who, as Midge puts it, “uses his wife as a speed bag.” Don isn’t paying attention, and picks up Midge’s Polaroid camera. He snaps a photo of Midge and Roy, and… flashback!

The hobo is in the barn when Dick brings some blankets to make a bed with. Dicks passes on Abigail’s order to say your prayers, and the hobo says, “Praying won’t help you from this place, kid. Best keep your mind on your mother, she’ll probably look after you.” Dick says that Abigail isn’t his mother, because he’s a “whore child.” Dick observes that the hobo doesn’t talk like most bums, and the man says, “I’m a gentleman of the rails. For me, every day is brand new. For me, every day is a brand new place, people, what have you.” “So, you got no home?” Dick asks. The hobo says that he used to have a wife, family, job and mortgage, but “I couldn’t sleep at night, tied to all those things.” Gee, do you think this could somehow be applicable to Don’s current life? “So one morning I freed myself, with the clothes on my back, goodbye. Now I sleep like a stone.” This hobo is awful proud of his child abandonment lifestyle. Dick asks where the hobo will go next, and he says that he’ll be leaving the Whitman farm as soon as possible. “If death was coming any place, it’s here, kid. Creeping around every corner.” Yeah, that’s exactly the sort of imagery you want to place in a nine year-old’s head before bedtime. The hobo pulls out a piece of chalk and tells Dick that he can be an honorary hobo, and learn the code. Hobos make a mark on the front gate of every house to tell other hobos whether there’s good food, a nasty dog, a dishonest man, etc. He throws the chalk at Dick and says, “Don’t be scared, kid. You ain’t a man yet.”

Back in the present, Don is inspecting the back of the camera and pulls out the photo he took. He sees Midge and Roy looking rather intimate, and comes to a conclusion. “Of course. You two, you’re in love,” he says to them. Midge says that’s ridiculous, but Don replies that part of his job is making ads where people appear to be in love, so he can tell the real thing when he sees it. Ever pretentious and annoying Roy tells Don, “Love is bourgeois.” Don softly says to Midge, “You’re breaking my heart,” and the guy in the Fez is shocked that “ad man has a heart!” Fez is getting angry, and tells Don that advertising is not doing anything to improve the problems of their country. Don asks if buying some cheap wine and drinking it in Grand Central, “pretending you’re a vagrant,” is doing anything, either? Fez very maturely responds, “I wipe my ass with your Wall Street Journal.” Don tells Fez to stop talking and “make something of yourself.” “Like you?” Roy asks. “You make the lie. You invent want. You’re for them, not us.” Man, beatniks are freaking annoying.

Don puts his coat on and tells Roy that there is no “big lie, there is no system. The universe is indifferent.” Everyone’s buzz is pretty effectively killed, and Don fetches his hat. Midge walks over, and Don tells her it’s now or never for Paris. Holding the photo, Midge tells him no. Don looks sad, like he knows this is it with her (and thank goodness—who knew the Village in the 60’s was so dull?). He pulls out the bonus check, endorses the back, and tucks it into her blouse. “Buy yourself a car,” he whispers, then heads out. Roy says that Don can’t go out in the hall because of the cops. “You can’t,” Don says, putting on his hat and looking every bit the upright citizen. Well, if you’re going to lose your mistress to an annoying fruitcake like Roy, then you might as well get in a good burn before you go.

Don arrives home, and heads upstairs in the dark. He goes to the kids’ room, and wakes up Bobby. “Ask me anything,” he says to his son. Bobby says he’s tired, but Don looks a little desperate as he insists. “Uh, why do ladybugs light up?” His chance to come clean denied, the intensity goes out of Don’s eyes and he sighs. “I don’t know. But I will never lie to you.” Bobby reaches up and gives his dad a sweet hug.

Back in the past, the hobo is finishing up his day of work and thanks Archie for sharing his home. Archie wishes him good luck, and ignores the hobo’s obvious hope of getting the quarter back. Dick runs to the front gate, and sees the symbol the hobo carved: a claw, for a dishonest man. Ouch. Back in the Draper home, Don has passed out, in his suit, in Bobby’s bed.

The next morning, in the office, Betty arrives early in hopes of spending more time on Pete’s couch, but no one is there but her. A few hours later, Pete arrives with the rest of the Mad Boys and goes into his office without looking at her. Don arrives a bit later, and the episode ends with a shot of Donald Draper’s name on his office door.

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The Stairmasters

In the seventh episode of Mad Men, "Red in the Face," Slattery makes a pass at Betty and Don has a revenge. Elsewhere, Pete buys a gun, further fueling my theory that Pete is the original American Pyscho.

Previously on Mad Men: Betty discovered the joys of therapy; Slattery and Joan were hot, together and apart; Pete was mad his wife refused to be whored out; and Betty gave a lock of her hair to Eddie Munster, the evil spawn of divorced Helen Bishop.

At the office, Don is on the phone with Betty’s therapist, so the two men can discuss all of her most private thoughts and feelings. The therapist says that Betty is mostly “consumed with petty jealousies and overwhelmed by everyday activities. Basically, we’re dealing with the emotions of a child here.” The therapist says that Betty’s instability is not uncommon, especially after the loss of a parent. He hopes that Betty will become more forthcoming (no, Betty, don’t tell that skunky shrink anything!) and they can get down to the deeper issues. Don is surprised that Betty could contain the depth required to have “deeper issues,” but he does seem genuinely concerned for the well being of his wife.

In another office, Slattery is on the phone with his wife, assuring her that he’s drinking his milk while simultaneously pouring a very healthy amount of vodka into said milk. He tells his wife to go to “Mims” and bring their daughter, then is interrupted by Bertram Cooper, the other half of Sterling-Cooper. Cooper announces that the “Nixon boys” will be stopping by at the end of the week, but Nixon himself won’t be coming, “thank god, otherwise I’d have to move the piano out of my office.” This is one of those jokes I totally don’t get because I was born in 1986. Did Nixon hate pianos? Or did he love pianos but tended to embarrass himself by playing badly on any piano he saw? Bertram continues that hopefully Nixon will decide he needs an advertising agency. Slattery notes that it’s often the people with the “best product who make the worst client.” It’s hard to imagine anyone looking at Nixon and Kennedy side by side and thinking that Nixon had the better product. Cooper admonishes Slattery to stop smoking so much, because it’s a sign of weakness, and tells a story about how Hitler didn’t let Neville Chamberlain smoke during their negotiations in Munich, so after an hour Chamberlain “would have given Hitler his mother as a dance partner”. Slattery responds that the only thing he can get from that story is that Hitler didn’t smoke.

At the end of the work day, everyone’s heading out the door towards the bar. Slattery stops by Joan’s desk and tells her that the family is out of town, so she should come over. Another woman walks over: Carol, Joan’s roommate. Slattery pulls Joan away for an “accounting question,” and tells her that he’ll take her away on a trip soon, but not that night. She tells him she needs some notice for that, and he tells Carol and Joan to be good as they walk out. Carol gives him the fakest smile ever, so she obviously has a good radar for poor character.

At Peggy’s desk, Don is telling her that she can stay late to work on the Belle Jolie lipstick account as long as she isn’t dragging the next day. Slattery walks up and convinces him to come out for a drink. Pete comes over and asks if he missed something, and Slattery says, “No, Don and I talk all the time when you’re not around.” Hah! This is why, even though Roger Sterling is sort of an weasel, I love him anyway. The two men walk off without even glancing at Pete. As Pete wishes him goodnight, Slattery tosses off a “Good night, Paul.” Then to a chuckling Don: “I love doing that.” Pete turns his attention to Peggy, calling her a “busy little girl” and then reminding her that staying up late “isn’t good for your skin.” Peggy doesn’t mind being treated like a child or pet by Pete, and laughs that she’s actually working on copy. He asks a few unbelieving questions, then offers to take a look at it for her. He claims to do it for a lot of the other men; I definitely expected this to end with Pete stealing Peggy’s ideas for his own glory (as we know he has aspirations for creative and is willing to break the rules, as evidenced by the steel account in the episode “New Amsterdam”), but thankfully this show isn’t Melrose Place.

At a crowded bar, Slattery and Don are drinking and discussing the hiring and firing structures at another agency. Slattery’s distracted by two women at the end of the bar, one of whom looks a little like Rachel McAdams (aka, perfect) and the other like a less-freaky Chloe Sevigny. Rachel and Chloe notice our Mad Men back, and Slattery notes that “at a certain age they lose that…that glow of pure youth. It’s like they hit thirty and somebody puts out a light.” Even though I have 8 and a half years to go, somebody called me an old maid tonight, so on behalf of women of all ages: Fuck you, Slattery (you sexy, silver fox, you). Don mentions that he has to get home to Betty soon, and Slattery relates how his wife stopped cooking when his daughter stopped eating: “They’re fighting it out, and I’m the one that gets hurt.” Don can read the subtext and says he’ll call Betty and tell her that Slattery’s coming home too.

Betty is running around the house in curlers and a slip when Don calls. She can tell it’s Don just by the sound of him lighting up a cigarette, and asks, “You are coming home, right?” He tells her that Slattery invited himself to the Draper home, and brushes off her concerns about having enough food. Cut to dinner, where the two men are eating steak and Betty is having a salad. She tells Slattery that she doesn’t want any, because she’s a vegetarian sometimes. A wife who’ll give her steak to your boss and eat a salad with a smile? Don is so unappreciative of Betty. Slattery relates how his wife is always looking things up in her little calorie book, and Betty shares how she “was pudgy as a girl, if you can believe it.” In eighth grade, after a summer at swim camp, she came into Home Ec with a pattern for “big girl pajamas” because she hadn’t realized how much weight she lost. Slattery says that when he was a kid they would swim in pools, “sometimes naked.” Don says that he used to swim in a quarry; Slattery is surprised, and tells Don, “by the way you drop your G’s every once and a while, I always thought you were raised on a farm. Someplace with a swimmin’ hole.” Don doesn’t respond to this probing of his past (I was surprised he volunteered information about the quarry in the first place), and goes to find more liquor.

Many drinks and cigarettes later, Betty brings out a chocolate sheet cake with “Mommy and Daddy” written in frosting on top. Slattery’s worried that he’s been crashing Betty and Don’s anniversary, and Betty assures him that it was just Sally trying out her new frosting machine. “Mommy and daddy: simple, colloquial, to the point. She writes like her father.” All three pick up cigarettes, and Slattery leans across the table to light Betty’s. Slattery tells Don to get his own, since “three on a match.” Betty doesn’t understand that expression, so Slattery explains that during the war, in the trenches, “first man lights up, they notice you. Second man, Jerry takes aim. Third guy, Auf wiedersehen.” I love the part in Forgetting Sarah Marshall when Jason Segel is watching Project Runway in the middle of the night and crying over Heidi auf’ing one of the contestants. Anyway, Don interjects that that “three on a match” saying was probably thought up by an ad man to sell more matches. “Do you tell your kids there’s no Santa Claus?” Slattery jokes. Betty robs Don’s shoulder as she murmurs that he would never. Don watches his wife as she asks Slattery to tell another story, “a true one.”

Slattery says that his father was in the trenches (World War I, I guess?) with a bayonet. “Think about that: poking a man to death three feet away from you. What’s that sound like?” Betty says that Don never talks about the way; “The war? His war, you mean?” Slattery asks, implying that the Korean War can’t compare to his WWII. Don answers that “There’s not much to say. You boys used up all the glory.” Slattery tells a story about running oil down in the South China Sea, and seeing a plane doing recon. He starts, “maybe I was bored, but I thought, ‘We should get that little plane.’” and Don interrupts, “Bored? What about scared? That never comes into these stories.” “You’re making me look bad in front of the lady,” Slattery says. Betty assures him that that would be impossible, and Don doesn’t look so pleased now at what a charming hostess his wife is. Slattery says that they blew that plane out of the sky, and went off course to see where the plane hit the water. They saw the wreckage, but no body. “Bet they gave you a medal,” Don says, and Slattery says, “They did, but not for that. It was for drinking.” That I find very easy to believe. Slattery picks up the empty vodka bottle, and Don goes out to the garage to get some more.

Betty starts clearing the table, and Slattery follows her into the kitchen. He immediately starts putting on the moves, hands encircling her tiny waist as he says, “I can’t believe you’ve had two babies.” As politely, but not as firmly, as possible, she tells him not to do that. “You’ve been making eyes at me all night,” he wheedles. “You can’t tell me that I’m not giving you hot pants.” She offers to make more coffee (and seriously, how drunk is he to be doing this with Don right outside in the garage?), and Slattery gets in close to her face to tell her that he’ll fall asleep thinking of her tonight. At the sound of the door opening, Slattery detaches from Betty and they both try to play it cool. Don knows when he walks in that something happened, though, and Slattery pours himself a goodbye drink (a full glass of vodka!). Slattery tells Don that he was just saying how lucky Don is to have such a beautiful wife and kids, so he should enjoy it. They sip their vodka, and Slattery says he’ll take his for the road. Don stands at the doorway and yells, “That’s my car!” and “Lights!” I feel like some people will be up in arms about Don letting Slattery do such blatant drunk-driving, but a: Slattery is Don’s boss, so no matter how friendly they are Don still has to defer to Slattery’s judgement, b: Don’s probably so pissed at seeing Slattery in the kitchen with Betty that he doesn’t care if Slattery drives off a bridge, as long as he’s out of the Draper home immediately, and c: It was the Sixties, man, lighten up.

As Slattery swerves away, Don goes into the kitchen to interrogate Betty. He asks her what happened with Slattery, and she says nothing, except “your drunk boss ruining our evening.” “You seemed to be having a grand time,” he angrily says. “You made a fool of yourself… you were throwing yourself at him, giggling at his stories.” Betty says rightly that she was being friendly, and tries to walk off. Don roughly grabs her arm and tells her, “I don’t like to be treated that way in my own home. I know what I saw.” Betty looks at his hand on her arm and asks him, “You want to bounce me off the walls? Would that make you feel better?” Don seems to realize that Betty is entirely in the right here, and responds to her very mature, pointed questions by saying, “Sometimes I feel like I’m living with a little girl.” That’s just a taste, Betty, of the therapeutically-specific things Don will torture you with if you open up to that evil shrink.

The next morning, Pete explains to the Mad Boys that he didn’t make it to the bar last night because he had dinner with his in-laws. He’s carrying a big blue box: two people got them the same wedding gift, so he’s returning it during lunch. The present is a chip and dip, one of those ceramic things with big bowls (that look like lettuce leaves) for the chips and a small bowl (that looks like a tomato) for the dip. Ken and Paul laugh at it, and Pete doesn’t understand why they think it’s so silly. At least it wasn’t one of those chip and dips with a pool and a fat man on the diving board, is what I say. Pete earnestly tells them about going to a friend’s house and having dip made of sour cream and brown onions, and Ken (I’ve decided that I like the character of Ken so much that I’m going to stop calling him Malfoy) jokes, “You’re going to have to give me that recipe sometime.” I think that emasculating Pete is like holding a dog’s favorite toy just out of its reach: you know you shouldn’t torture him like that, but it’s just so fun to watch him go nuts trying to prove his manhood/catch that chewy bone. Pete mentions that it cost $22 bucks, which seems like what a chip and dip would cost today, so that must have been a very expensive chip and dip. The boys ask why he has to do it today, and Pete says, “I like doing things for her.” Yes, like whoring her out to ex-boyfriends in order to advance your writing career! Paul takes his turn on the HMS Pete’s A Girl: “When you’re done shopping, come join us [at a bar they’re going to for lunch]. I hear they make a great grasshopper.”

In an entirely manly office, Don is smoking when Slattery stops by. He comes bearing a bottle of booze to replace all the liquor he drank the night before, and is all smooth jokes and smiles. Slattery starts, “About last night…” but Don isn’t making this any easier for him. “When a man gets to the point where his name’s on the building, he can get an unnatural sense of entitlement.” Don says he doesn’t understand what that means, so I guess that he really does place the blame fully on Betty for last night’s awkwardness. Slattery tells a story about how he got extremely drunk once, tried to go home and was forcing his key into the door when he realized he was in the wrong apartment building. He finishes, “At some point, we’ve all parked in the wrong garage.” Don realizes through this indirect apology that it’s Slattery that’s the slime, but he pretends otherwise by thanking Slattery for the booze and telling him, “Betty’s going to want that glass back.” As Slattery leaves, he stops and thinks that maybe he should get a whole case of those “sorry I tried to fondle your wife” bottles. Or, maybe you could stop fondling other people’s wives? Just a suggestion.

At the department store, Pete is in line with a bunch of women at the returns counter. The woman behind him comments that her husband would rather be drinking at lunch then returning presents, “even when we were newlyweds. He’s in advertising.” They exchange names, and Pete says he doesn’t know her husband. “That’s because you’re here at lunch,” she says. It’s Pete’s turn at the counter, and he explains that they got two chip and dips, even though they registered for just one, and he doesn’t have a receipt because it was a gift. Pete will go on repeating these three things over and over, so just imagine that the last sentence is repeated in between each of the following sentences. A pretty redhead comes to help him, but can’t find a registry under the name Campbell. Pete realizes that Trudie must have put it under her maiden name (emasculation scale reads: 3), just as a strapping young man carrying a tennis racket walks up. Matherton calls Pete “Humps the Camel Campbell,” which is not the most flattering nickname. The redhead immediately starts smiling at Matherton, so Pete has to deal with both the lame wedding present and the cute girl picking the manly man over him (emasculation scale: 5). Matherton walks away, and the redhead says that she can give Pete store credit, but not cash. Pete turns on the charm, and by charm I mean disgusting sliminess. Dude, she knows that you’re married, she’s not going to want to “work this out” by having drinks with you. She isn’t having it, which makes her about eleventy three times smarter than Peggy. When he realizes that she’s not budging, he says, “By the way, Matherton? He has the clap.” Heh. Sometimes I like when Pete is being a twelve year old.

The Mad Boys are walking into Pete’s office after lunch to see what Pete got with his store credit: a penis. No, wait, sorry, that’s a rifle. (Same difference, of course.) Pete laughs, “Why not, right? Boys will be boys.” Then he points it at Ken, Harry and Paul in turn, making them all squeam and turn away. This reminds me of all those PSA’s where the two boys are hanging out and they find their father’s gun and one shoots the other in the face. I think there were two versions of that commercial: the regular for gun safety, and another where the boys were smoking pot, for anti-drugs. Pete takes his gun to the main office floor and points it at each pretty woman walking by, because he’s a PSYCHOPATH. Hilde, Pete’s fabulously un-humorous secretary, steps in front of him and pushes the gun down. Deflating his metaphorical erection that he’s been threatening the women of the office with, perhaps? This episode really lends itself to a Freudian reading. Hilde is totally a babe, by the way; cuter than Peggy and not as show-boaty as Joan. She kind of looks like Kate Mara, who’ll always be “that girl who got knocked up by Ephram’s piano teacher and had to have an abortion” from Everwood, although other people might know her from Brokeback Mountain (as Heath Ledger’s daugher) or the fifth season of 24 (as Shari Rothenberg, and I can’t give any more details than that because I didn’t watch that season).

In the board room, Slattery has gathered the troops to discuss tomorrow’s visit from Nixon’s people. Slattery says that Nixon’s nomination is a lock, so all they need is an opponent. Paul suggests it could be Lyndon Johnson, but Cooper, talking like your crazy old grandpa who everyone just humors, dodders that “It’s going to be Kennedy! Bastard blackie won West Virginia, now where does that leave us?” Sure, Grandpa, just drink your prune juice. Slattery sums up Nixon: experienced, a veteran, can fight Communism, not a Catholic. Pete points out that attacking Kennedy for his religion is a bad idea, and Kennedy keeps making the other candidates apologize for being intolerant. Slattery tells the boys that they may be too young to remember, but when Nixon was running against a woman for Congress in California, he “practically shot her in the face to win. If it is Kennedy, Nixon will lower himself to the occasion.” Cooper chimes in again that it’ll be Kennedy, and Slattery remarks to Don, “Good, a Catholic son of a millionaire. A boy, too scared to do anything but go on vacation.” Cooper says, “I met him. He is a boy.” Paul points out that he’s only four years younger than Nixon; Slattery counters that Nixon’s been vice president for eight years. Cooper finishes, “He doesn’t even wear a hat.” Pete, in possibly his only moment of genius, says, “I don’t know. You know who else doesn’t wear a hat? Elvis. That’s what we’re dealing with.” The rest of the table stares at him in disbelief, and Cooper yells out, “Remind me to stop hiring young people!” I bet Cooper is a fantastic grandfather. But Pete is so completely right, and it shows how Sterling Cooper is lagging behind the times that the heads of the company don’t get the Kennedy-Elvis comparison. Slattery says, “America does not want some greasy kid with his hand on the button,” and then winks to Don. “Now, if the adults can weigh in…” Don looks a little uneasy at Slattery’s total dismissal of Pete, but it could be because he’s ambivalent about working on the Nixon case (I believe this was shown in the first or second episode) or because he doesn’t want to play on Slattery’s team anymore.

At the Draper home, Betty is finishing cooking dinner when Don arrives. She’s proud of her big roast beef, but Don has to be a dick and says, “A whole roast beef. You know it’s just me tonight, right?” There’s a lot of glaring and unspoken anger, which is pretty par for the course in the Draper residence.

At the Campbell home, Pete is sitting in the corner with his rifle, and Trudie is yelling about how the money from that present was for the two of them, and she can’t believe how immature he is. The shot slowly pushes in, and it’s just like a mother punishing a naughty child. Emasculation scale: 10. Nicely done, Trudie.

At the Sterling Cooper office, Don walks towards the elevator banks. Pete gets off with his gun, and Don and the elevator operator (who sort of looks like Dule Hill) watch him go. Don addresses the operator by name, and as they get into the elevator Don pulls out a giant wad of cash. Mischief is in the air, and I like it! Although, where is Don going if Pete is just arriving in the office?

Pete is sitting on the couch in his office, looking like a boy on time-out, with the gun leaning against the wall. Peggy comes in to give him her Belle Jolie writing to look over. She notices the gun, and Pete asks her if she’s ever been hunting. Has Pete met Peggy? I’d say the answer to that is pretty obvious. Pete says that he’s been a few times, and that killing an animal is an “incredible sensation.” When a man you know to be untrustworthy starts talking about death that way, you should back out of the room slowly and not sit down on the couch next to him, like Peggy does. Pete says that he’s always wanted to pick up the animal he just killed, carry it on his shoulders to a cabin in the woods, and “hang it up between a couple of trees, cut it open, drain it, dress it. And then I’d take my big hunting knife and I’d cut his loin right out of the side.” While Pete is rhapsodizing, Betty looks straight ahead uncomfortably. Pete continues that he’d go into the cabin and hand the meat to a woman waiting by the stove, and she’d cook it for him and then watch while he eats it. Peggy looks at him and half-whispers, “That would be wonderful.” Don’t feed Pete’s Davy Crockett fantasies, Peggy! I think that the main reason Pete continues to be semi-interested in Peggy is that she’s the only one who doesn’t emasculate him; instead, she tends to feed his delusions of manliness. I guess that’s a pretty good reason to like somebody.

Pete says that he’ll take a look at her copy, and Peggy takes her cue to leave. Out in the main office, Peggy is so turned on by Pete’s wilderness fantasy that she has to go buy a ham sandwich and cherry Danish from the food cart.

Betty is shopping in the grocery store when she sees Helen Bishop. Betty greets her warmly, but Helen is obviously reluctant to talk to her. Helen says that she found a lock of Betty’s hair among creepy Glenn’s things the other night. Betty tries to explain, but Helen isn’t having it: “He is nine years old. What is wrong with you?” That seems a bit harsh to say to someone’s face. He told her she was pretty like a princess! She’s not made of stone! Betty responds to Helen’s question with a not terribly hard, but still shocking, slap to the face. Betty than walks out, leaving her cart full of food. While I think it was unwarranted for Don to call her a little girl before, Betty could have handled that in a way more mature way. But maybe Helen’s direct question (“What is wrong with you?”) made her feel like everyone is ganging up to question her sanity, so she lashed out at Helen in a way that she can’t lash out at Don.

Slattery and Don are out to lunch, eating oysters and drinking martinis. Slattery is surprised that Don is “such a fan of the mollusk,” and Don says it’s like “eating a mermaid.” That would not make me want to eat oysters, personally. Slattery asks if Don wants another drink, and Don responds, “You’re leading this dance.” It’s obvious that Don is going to eat as many oysters and drink as many martinis as Slattery will. Slattery tells him approvingly, “I always thought you were a man who could keep up.” Don grins, thinking, “I can’t wait until later, when I have my ‘And the student becomes the master!’ moment.” They finish the meal with two slices of cheesecake and more martinis; Don is slouched so far down in his booth that he’s almost horizontal. They talk about “true love,” and more specifically Desi and Lucy (from I Love Lucy). Slattery isn’t surprised that they’re getting divorced after their remarriage: “Did he walk up one morning and say, ‘Oh yeah, I forgot…I hate you!’” Heh! Slattery says that he likes redheads, because “their mouths are like a drop of strawberry jam in a glass of milk.” Who the heck is putting jam into milk? Especially since Slattery usually takes his milk with vodka. Don says, a little drunkenly, that he doesn’t like drinking milk and hates cows. Me too! They agree to have one more martini each, instead of coffee, and then head back to the office.

At the Draper home, Betty is sitting at the table and drinking wine, alone in the middle of the day. Francine drops by, pretending to have a shirt of Bobby’s that actually belongs to Francine’s son. Betty explains that she’s trying the wine for a dinner party she’s planning. Francine asks, all faux-concern, how Betty is doing, and then gets to the point: she heard what happened in the supermarket with Helen and wants to know if it’s true. Betty says that she doesn’t know what happened, and it’s almost unbelievable. Francine says, in a rather sweet, supportive way, “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want to take a good poke at her. She’s so selfish. All those long walks, and the pathetic job at Benson’s jewelry.” Betty chimes in, “And that John Kennedy, I hate him.” Francine is all, “Wha?” I guess she doesn’t know the reason that Betty was babysitting is that Helen was helping the Kennedy campaign. Kennedy is the real selfish one, taking divorced mothers away from their maladjusted children at night!

Francine continues to reassure Betty that people will “be glad to know that you’re not a marshmellow.” Now Betty is worried that people thought she’s weak, and Francine says that Betty’s just so sweet and perfect. Betty says that her mother “always said that, ‘You’re painting a masterpiece. Make sure to hide the brush strokes.’ She was always really beautiful. But then I think, why am I doing all this? I’m not that vain.” Oh, yes, the concept of “effortless beauty,” so familiar to any girl who’s picked up a woman’s magazine in the last 60 years. Francine asks what Dr. Wayne, her therapist says, and Betty laughs that he doesn’t say much beyond, “Tell me more about that.” But he did try to look down her neckline the other day. Betty says that “As far as I’m concerned, as long as men look at me that way, I’m earning my keep. And every once in a while, I think, no, this is something else. I don’t want my husband to see this.” “Earning my keep,” she says? Oh man, the gender politics in this show just continue to astound me.

Don and Slattery return to their building for the meeting with the Nixon people, but blocking the elevator is the operator we saw Don talking to earlier. The operator tells them that the elevator is out of order, and he doesn’t know when it’ll be fixed. Don jokes that they go back to lunch, but Slattery says that Cooper will have a seizure if they’re any later, and the two men head to the stairs. When Slattery turns his back, Don gives a subtle tip of the hat to the operator. The operator, who’s black, looks less than thrilled to being part of this rich man’s prank war. In the stairwell, Don and Slattery huff and puff as they make their way to floor 23. Don is obviously at an advantage due to his younger age, and Slattery has to stop and catch his breath. Don pushes Slattery to keep going, and Slattery insists that Don (who is smoking while climbing) walk behind him. Stair montage! I want to note that the music on this show is so excellent. On floor 17, Slattery has to stop and lean against the wall. I was pretty sure that he was going to have a heart attack, but instead he tells Don that he doesn’t want to rest. Don says, “I forgot, Navy man.” They interrupt two young employees necking in the stairwell, but don’t yell out, “Oooh, busted!” like I would have. Don offers to run ahead to tell the others that Slattery is on his way, and Slattery says, “My name is on the building. They can wait for me.” Pride goeth before the fall, indeed.

A few flights from their floor, Slattery slips on the stairs. He tells Don that he lost his tie clip, but he’ll find it and Don should keep going. He obviously isn’t willing to look weak in front of this younger, more able man. Don agrees, and practically skips up the stairs. He enters the Sterling Cooper offices coughing heavily, but pulls it together enough to meet the three men from the Nixon campaign. A few seconds later, Slattery staggers through the door. One of the Nixon men mentions how highly one of their other clients speaks of Slattery, and Slattery responds to that by bending over and hurling up an impressive amount of puke. I feel bad for whoever has to clean up that mess of oysters, martinis and cheesecake. The men all scatter backwards, and Don helps Slattery sit down. A secretary brings Slattery some water, and Cooper leads the Nixon men into the conference room, away from the puke. Don stays behind to ask if Slattery’s ok. Slattery is eyeing Don suspiciously, resenting him for being so pulled together after 23 flights, and possibly suspecting Don’s deception. Don gives him a light slap on the shoulder and walks off, grinning to himself. So not only is he able to pay back his boss in a roundabout way, but he also probably ruined Sterling Cooper’s chances of being hired for the Nixon campaign, something he didn’t want to do. The student has become the master!

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