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Mad Men Needs Less Staring, More Dying

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I don't like Mad Men. Maybe it's because I used to be a copywriter in an ad agency. Hearing ad people love on Mad Men is grosser than watching your parents make out. "As an art director, I love the art direction." "I really feel like Peggy and I are the same person sometimes -- how come I have to do all the dildo ads, right? Oh, because I'm a girl? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S STILL 1950. UGH."

Maybe it's because I heard it was a comedy and I watched the whole first season waiting for Joan's boobs to crack a joke.

Probably it's every single one of the scenes featuring creatives immediately having Big Idea monologues. Nobody has good ideas that quickly. The guy who has that House Guy's job in real life must feel the same way when he watches House. "Shut up. There's no way you could tell that was Minotaur rabies that fast! Stupid House show!"

I continue to watch Mad Men, because people continue to tell me that I'm wrong. Even AMC is like, "This shit is the best drama in the history of ever, you dumbass." So, like I watch Bill O'Reilly just to piss myself off, I watch.

I watch every episode go: Peggy frowns. Don has had it. Silver Man drinks and smiles through the pain. Joan boobs. Pete Petes. Peggy is further disappointed. Meghan teeths. Someone humps sadly. Period-appropriate music! Silver Man makes a joke that someone smirks at. Credits roll.

When a Mad Men superfan told me that Megan Draper might be Sharon Tate, I was excited. Not because I like the show, but because that means she will die. Death would be so much more interesting than all the staring off into space. I already know all these bitches are sad, because they cry so much. You don't need to rub it in. Staring isn't a plot point, y'all. Even if you're wearing a fabulous dress that's a perfect recreation of what women were wearing during that time while staring.

It's probably not fair that I watched this right after Game of Thrones, which is the most anyone-could-die-at-any-moment show that has ever existed. I keep hoping Ken Cosgrove's gonna come around a corner and stab someone. But he doesn't. I keep thinking maybe it'll be Pete Campbell who'll roll in and just waste everyone, Boardwalk Empire-style. But he doesn't.

Will Joan's boobs reveal fembot guns and blast every man in sight? Probably not. Fewer sad-face close-ups, more eyes getting shot out, more lawnmowers mowing over feet, Mad Men.

And before you say it, it's not that the show is too sophisticated for me. I watch the shit out of The Real Housewives. You wanna talk about real drama? Just watch those foreheads try to move.

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