madness

This morning I woke up with a seething resentment against Pete Campbell. I told Allie about it she said something like, "Wow, it is a good show. I don't think I've ever known you to be mad at a fictional character."

A good friend of ours who has impeccable taste in all things fictitious practically demanded that we check out season one of Mad Men from the library. We're three quarters of the way through. It's gripping.

It's weird, though, because I only like three of the characters. There others I kind of like sometimes and there are a bunch more I pretty much can't stand. And I don't share any of their ambitions, at least not superficially. It's about an ad firm. I could care less if they keep the Lucky Strikes account.

But it's great drama because all of the characters are hurting, and the writers and directors show this expertly. So when the guy you hate does something despicable you also feel just a little bit sorry for him, enough to want to keep watching and hope he might turn around. Which, actually, he usually does do, kind of, with a semi-nice gesture a few scenes later.

Ad, of course, it's got that whole "it was a different time, different place" thing going. The sexism is astounding. It's satisfying to watch from the next century, with a wife you don't lie to, hide things from or cheat on.