After winning the Golden Globe for Best Drama Series, holding a well-attended panel discussion at the Paley Center, and now already winning over the British press before its BBC premiere, AMC’s Mad Men is really, really pissing me off with its increasingly apparent worthwhileitude.
Television, seriously — just stop.
I’m three seasons behind on The Wire, I never saw Season 2 of Rome, I can’t keep up with my friends on Friday Night Lights, Heroes, or It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, I’ve never seen an episode of Weeds, and I’ve been dodging any information about Battlestar for two years, much as Edward James Olmos must dodge asteroids in his titanium astro-suit, if my preconceptions about the show are accurate. The last thing I need is another universally-praised must-see drama that my friends convene to discuss in annoying party conversation groups that always begin with everyone proclaiming which episode they’re up to so everyone can calibrate their spoiler-withholding accordingly.
I am more or less required by my job is to watch television, and I stay vehemently up to date on Lost, The Office, 30 Rock, South Park, American Idol, Top Chef, and most HBO seasons, in addition to watching at least one full day’s worth of sports per week and assorted Daily Shows and Colberts. I cannot physically watch more television. It is literally impossible. I Season Pass like a mofo, but there’s only so many hours in an earthly day, and DVR ain’t Narnia.
How, then, can I possibly be so far behind on so many shows that I absolutely have to see? Are my friends foregoing even the most modest attempts to live actual, tangible lives in favor of steadfastly guarding against having a new Battlestar episode ruined for them before they have a chance to bolt home and watch it on their DVRs? Or is the feeling that I’m missing out on so many shows just an illusion created by different friends devoutly covering different shows and comibining for one huge, intimidating collective of show-being-caught-up-on?
I’m tired of diving behind a couch every time someone mentions a death, fearing that they might be talking about a character from a show I have yet to watch who may or may not be important. I find myself secretly hoping that they’re talking about someone dying in real life, so that I can exhale knowing that my “Wire” suprise factor has lived to see another day. The minute someone says, “Dude, how far are you on Mad Men?” You get to the one where… the thing… happens to Advertisey McGee?” “NO, I haven’t, but thanks a lot, Matt, now I know that Advertisey McGee dies, great,” I will finally acquaint myself with this suicide thing I keep hearing so much about.
This is why I say, f*ck you, “Mad Men.” F*ck you in your sixties advertising agency, blue-suited, glasses-wearing, specific color-paletted, universally-praised basic cable face.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go watch Season One of “Flight of the Conchords” On Demand for the fourth time.
