As we are approaching the Season 2 finale of Mad Men, lots of interesting developments are afoot! This week’s episode was a great one, but before I get to any of my favorite moments from the show, please indulge me while I show you some of the technology:
First we have what appears to be a recording device or, um, Dictaphone. Something like that.
This device, cool as it may look, was being used for no doubt smug and self-serving purposes by one Pete Campbell. I feel sorry that it had to listen to him blather on like that. It may only be a machine, but machines have feelings, too.
My favorite technological aspect of the episode was by far the visit from this copy machine repairman:
It is now completely evident that the stereotypically condescending and obnoxious IT Guy has been around as long as machines themselves.
And now, some of my favorite moments:
MR. STERLING: Alice…I’m sorry, I don’t know whose eyes to look at.
ALICE: What? These vermin are warming my frail collar bones.
Oh, Sterling, you slay me sometimes. Let’s also appreciate Alice’s No-Bullshit facial expression and perfectly manicured nails.
One of my favorite things to watch all season has been the rise of Peggy Olson. She’s a strange bird, no doubt, but it appears that one has to be, if one wants to succeed in business while being handicapped by a pair of tits. I love Peggy. Her getting her own office (ahead of the men in the company who didn’t have the balls to ask for it) was a great moment, even though it came only after the sad end of Freddy Rumsen’s job.
The reaction when Harry Crane and Paul Kinsey heard the news, however, was almost even better:
Finally, one of the great mysteries of Mad Men was solved:
We now know who was the recipient of Don’s mailed copy of Meditations in an Emergency.
(On another note: how cool are all the literary references? Frank O’Hara here, Betty reading Fitzgerald, that girl from last week — who had a voice eerily simlar to January Jones’s — reading Faulkner. Someone’s got good taste!)
It was strange to see Don Draper out of his usual context, and instead bumming around this woman’s breezy California house in linen and short sleeves. It was also, however, nice to see him at ease and with, finally, someone who appears to be a real friend.
On a sadder note: Joan, Joan, JOAN. Girl. Call me.