Mad Men is addicting

Mad Men is addicting, especially on a rainy Saturday afternoon with nothing but the TV and presents to wrap. The wrapping was me entwined in the lives of the girdled, pointy brassiered women and the hard drinking, cigarette smoking, chauvinistic men. Whew, what a wild ride. Because I was alone I had the freedom to yell at that TV, "Stay away from her, you creep," or "Make them pay you for your copy, you fool!" or "He's married!" Those stupid lusty men. Those easy, easy women.
Nothing's really changed much, has it, except the cigarette smoke and women who have gotten more promotions and have become bosses themselves. Men are still lusty, women are still easy.
Tiger Woods, you a fool, just like those Mad Men.
I am just old enough to remember some of the styles and a bit of the sexual harassment. I started a job in 1967 in a dentists' office and everyone smoked. Every operatory, waiting room and lab all had ash trays. The lab tech called me a mental virgin. Daily. Hourly.
The idiot. Almost every time I'd walk into the lab to mix the pink germicide for the instruments or to mix some dental goo, I'd get an earful of how I looked and how much I probably wanted It. He annoyed me and as I think about it now, I should have told him to shut up, but I never did. Why? For the same reason the women in Mad Men just accept their fate as sexual conquests and permanent lower level skills to serve and answer phones?
Mad Men is a soap opera just as all the present day hour long dramas tend to be. Even LOST has that melodrama lingering in its pseudo sci fi philosopical meanderings. Yes, even Burn Notice and this new one I like, White Collar, though cleverly disguised as thrilleresque- good- guy- bad- guy capers, its there, the heartbreak of unrequited love, the manipulation of the Alpha Male, the sexual reek of sheer naughtiness. And we love it.
I can't wait to get my hands on the next three disks. Where are they? Don't let me down Netflix.