The news coming from the Mad Men universe regarding Season Five: The Meganning! does not sound very encouraging. And I’m just a simple realist. The Fans are Fans. The pessimistic ones are rending garments and thrashing about, wailing at the indignity, cursing the dying of the light. The outrage is networking a protest even as I type; watch for the Faces, listen for the tweets. It’s a Peoples’ revolt I’m being told, just like Egypt, you watch.
I tease bittersweetly. I also would hate to see it go. I would really hate to watch it limp along in some mutilated, zombie shadow of its former self, which may be AMC’s grand plan. They’ve discovered the Undead draws a significant crowd after all.
I hope to post some more detailed thoughts on this tomorrow.
Still haven’t finished anything worthy of a full post yet, but I’m surf-scanning a lot and I came across some mildly troublesome news at Mad Men HQ – Basket of Kisses. It seems The Oligarchs are fighting over the lucre that will be generated by Don Draper’s continued Existence. Meaning the peasants must stare at a blank television screen until the division of profits is agreed upon. I’m shocked Rick, absolutely shocked!
There is much angst and some nausea found in the comment thread that follows but SmilerG at#19 made a necessary suggestion.
“I know — AMC needs to create a series about some zombies who form an ad agency!”
This amused me and thus I decided to skip lunch and run with the metaphorical football, not unlike Rashard Mendenhall did for my Pittsburgh Steelers in the AFC Championship last night.
Cross-posted for my amusement.
I’m liking the sound of SmilerG’s idea @19. Forgive me now in advance.
Title of the show — DeAdMen
It will be set in the 1960’s in a post-nuclear apocalypse, former metropolis now wryly referred to as the Manhattan Projects.
The ad agency’s four founders are Rotger Hurling, Bert Ewwwper, Graham Reaper and, of course, Vincent Price. (It’s the Sixties after all — he was everywhere!)
Joan Crawlaway is the Office Manager with a body to die for; and the Art Director, renowned for his re-animation and de-composition, (un)naturally, is Salvatore A. Romero. What an improbable comeback, huh?
And let’s not forget the Creative BRAAAAAAAINS of the outfit, Donald Olson Dahdehd. He is the well-dressed zombie son of a dirt-poor, immigrant mortician from Norway. He’s quite the ladies’ man. It appears all the girls want to jump his bones and haul his ashes.
Our Hero’s philosophy: “I’m un-living like there’s no tomorrow, because there isn’t one . . . unless of course you’re undead like me, then it’s always . . . hey! wait! that makes no fuckin’ sense; maybe it’s a metaphor.” On why he quit smoking: “Every cigarette is just another nail in your coffin.” His favorite cocktail: a formaldehyde Mold-Fashioned. On why he’s not dying: “It’s what we don’t do.”
He is, literally, the Ad Man for the Ages, barring a bullet through the skull, — the nameplate on the door up ahead says Don O. Dahdehd.
(and sorry to all the Hamm-sters out there, but Zombie Matt Weiner had to cast Bryan Cranston in the lead; he contracted liver cancer, dropped thirty-five pounds, and let his teeth rot out for this part.)
It seems that the stars are not where we thought they were — “It’s the axial tilt, stupid!” — and I was recently reminded The Believers believe our check-out time has been moved up — (oh wait! maybe it’s just their check-out time that’s been adjusted)–, so the writers here at The Suite are crafting a multi-purpose, all-encompassing, low-fat, whole-grain, navel-gazing Existentialist Manifesto which I’ll post up as soon as it’s done. It’s the New Year 2011 after all, so it’ll be packed with a lot of that introspective crap of course and maybe there will be an indication of where this blog is headed in the near future. I’m still working on upgrading our internet connection, but things actually look brighter on that front, so there could be an increase in the number of alcohol-fueled self-indulgent screeds and solipsistic musings appearing here.
Consider yourselves warned!
UPDATE: Hey! help me out here. I’m putting together a list of films I want to watch (either for the first time or again, for the umpteenth one) before The End of Days (that being May 21, 2011: see above link). Films that are either supremely entertaining or consciousness provoking or some combination of the two usually work for me. The annual introspecting has led me to conclude that I was greatly influenced, as a young one, by the roles Paul Newman played during his career. And I want to see Cool Hand Luke and Judge Roy Bean at least one more time each to understand what I got out of them; what I assimilated from those characters.
So, a question to the readers: What movie(s) do you really need to watch once more before the cosmic lights go out?
We’re not Sports Illustrated yet but a blog can hope, right?
Well, time to start a new streak. No lucky win #13 this time around.
The Penguins were beaten last night in Philadelphia. Click here for the brutal details.
Ooops, wrong brutal detail link. Here’s the official website with a recap and video. The teams are well-matched this year again, but the Pens took some untimely penalties (no blood though) and Philly got the powerplay winner in the third. We can bounce back tonight at home against the NY Rangers as we get prepared for the outdoor extravaganza on New Year’s Day at Heinz Field.
It’s a long season, not even halfway over yet, and it’s just a single loss; there’s nothing to be embarassed about in that regard. However, it was a loss to those punks from that over-glorified New Jersey suburb though. And it is always still a little humbling to wear the NHL’s Hat of Shame until the next win.
My Pittsburgh Penguins ( OK, I don’t actually own ’em but I remember Syl Apps wearing powder blue leggings – that’s a lot of long-term fan equity right there) are in Philadelphia tonight trying to win their 13th game in a row and remain the NHL’s point leader. It’s the formal wear flightless birds versus the Flyers, who truth be told are having a decent start to the season also and have beaten the Pens two of three so far this year. We’re just itching for a big-time grudge match-like victory there tonight. It’s on what passes for national TV (Versus) in professional hockeydom so I may get to watch us cream those punks from
Syracuse . . . er, Philadelphia. GO PENS!!!
Coincidently, in the bargain bin at Target a few weeks ago, I found a 25th anniversary DVD of the Greatest Hockey Movie Evah!! — Slap Shot — for the price equivalent of a no foam, quad venti latte. Could not pass that up. Oh, and by the way, it’s been stayin’ at my place . . . we’ve been havin’ a helluva time. I may go through the entire day only responding to co-workers with Slap Shot quotes. It’ll drive ’em nuts. You gotta get in their heads, fuck with ’em.
Anyway, here’s the only sports movie pep talk a person will ever need. And once again — GO PENS!!!
Reggie Dunlop: It’s their rink, it’s their ice and it’s their fuckin’ town. But tonight we got our fans with us!
They spent their own dough to get here, and they came to see us. All right, let’s show ’em what we got guys! Get out there on the ice and let ’em know you’re there! Get that fuckin’ stick in their side — let ’em know you’re there! Get that lumber in their teeth. Let ’em know you’re there.
Ned Braden: Bleed all over ’em. Let ’em know you’re there.
Ten years ago yesterday, the song was America The Beautiful — then the Supremes took the stage.
Once in a while, when I’m feeling my geo-poli-historical oats (after a few snorts usually), I imagine I can trace a direct thread of the Butterfly Ballot Effect — straight from the Hanging Chad in Broward, out across an ocean of slaughtered hearts and minds, over mountains majesties of burning greenbacks, dropping right down to the Hanging Hussein in Bagdhad.
Then I have another drink, toasting the crumbling Empire, and I thank the FSM for the Constitution and the Rule of Law, for what would the common man do without it.
Har, har, har.
I’m told the 10th anniversary gift is traditionally aluminum, perhaps Justice would be served with the wielding of a fine locally made product. Then again, perhaps not.
The Court was simply just doing that which it had been lovingly hand-crafted by our oligarchic overlords to do after all, — protect power.
And for the record, I do not condone vigilante retribution of any sort. I only metaphorically hint that a metaphorical Louisville Slugger applied to their collective metaphorical skulls would be somewhat satisfying, metaphorically. And it would probably be completely ineffective on the Thomas and Scalia melons anyway.
“For ten years we’ve been on our own, and moss grows fat on a rolling stone”
Ahoy denizens of the InterWeb and all the ships at sea.
I had intended to post an autopsy of NostraLOMus’ stillborn Mad Men predictions but I’ve lost interest, maybe I’ll come back to it when the S4 DVD is released. Roger Sterling lives on though and that’s probably more entertaining anyway.
I have my excuses for the poor showing. I think there’s a tendency among MM viewers, myself included at times, to over-read a motif and stretch it into a foreshadow. Also I’m personally always on the look-out for different, bold, brutally honest depictions of the Suicidal. I was pulling for that story — [I’d like to see someone like Weiner take this on at length in a main TV character. The first season of The Sopranos, for a time, looked to be taking Tony in this direction but then they grew to engage his sociopathy instead. Of course there’s more story to tell there, more story to write if your guy remains breathing. But if they pick an end date for Mad Men, it would be compelling, to me at least, to watch Don truly confront the pointlessness and absurdity of Life. He’s shown some understanding of this already but he now appears to have reconnected with just enough humanity (mm.. mmm.. Megan,and his kids) to distract himself from working all the way through to the cold unavoidable conclusion regarding his existence.] — And also as winter approaches, I may have been projecting a bit of my own SAD thought processes. In any event, I over-soaped the non-soap and I was wrong. Viva La Roger!
What to blog of now? I think we may adopt the Death theme ourselves right here. Morbidly funny works for me most times. The Post-Existential Suite? A How -To guide to the winding down of existence. Articles such as “Five Reasons To Wake Up Each Morning” and “Eight Reasons Not To”. Etc.
I’ll chew on some ideas while I gnaw on the cold turkey this weekend, and see where the Muse she leads.
“Eight miles outta Memphis and I got no spare, eight miles straight up downtown somewhere.