Monday, November 23, 2009

The Truth In Advertising



After all the Mad Men fan fare has died down with the season finale, I've finally caught up enough to realize that Don Draper bears an astonishing resemblance to Michael Steadman, the ever earnest advertising exec on thirtysomething. Mea culpa --I watched thirtysomething with a fervor that bordered on religious. True to my ever dull Taurean nature, I'd tape the show on Tuesday nights while watching it and then watch it again before high school on Wednesday morning. Most of the girls I knew who watched it (and they were not many, let me tell you) were into Gary, the hippie professor who didn't believe in grading and called apartments "Orwellian nightmares." But I couldn't really dig Gary who always seemed to be mooching food and whining. I accept that everyone whines from time to time, myself included. But I don't know -- men on television whining work my nerves for some reason, so I could never get behind Gary as a dreamboat.

Ken Olin, though, was dreamy for all the same reasons Don Draper (John Hamm) is. They seem like adult men in a television world populated by teenagers. To be fair, so does Tom Arnold and I've not gone all swoony over him. But there's something about that tall, dark, handsome, brooding, married man trying to think up another jingle that makes everything better. And Don Draper is even cooler than Michael Steadman was. I think it's the era. The eighties were a bit of a wash all around, but the sixties were all good clothes, scotch, and deep pronouncements about the future. By the eighties, we'd seen a bit of what that imagined future was and all it seemed to be was Frankie Says Relax t-shirts and fluorescent socks, as if we wanted to be brighter if not smarter.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Undisturbed calmness of mind is attained by cultivating friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight in the virtuous, and indifference toward the wicked." --The yoga sutras of Patanjali

Cocktail Hour
Any favorite Thanksgiving cocktails?

Benedictions and Maledictions
Thanks for the well wishes! Feeling much better. Happy Monday!

9 comments:

jodi said...

Oh Girl, ya kiddin' me? We argues incessantly about the Micheal/Gary thing! We honestly hoped and dreamed of those idyllic marriages and friendships. What the hell went wrong. Enjoy your turkey, Babe. xo

Scott said...

Michelle,

Glad to hear you're feeling better...I'm getting over a cold myself.

Take care, Darlin'.

informational advertisement said...

Great blog, Interesting reading material. Advertising had a big role especially in business industry it would be a help to get consumer inform about the product and also it will help for increasing sales.

the walking man said...

uhh that is some big '8o's hair you have going on in today's picture there kiddo.

The best Thanksgiving cocktail I know of is the one you have when everyone has gone the hell home and their mess is finally all cleaned up.

Charles Gramlich said...

I think I watched one episode of 30 something. Seemed like a lot of whining to me.

Brianinmpls said...

Pomegranate Champagne

1 part Pama Pomegranate Liqour

3 parts champagne or sparkling wine

Pomegranate arils

Whine-O said...

Long Islands consumed at Cushion Cue on Kelly road in Eastpointe. Those were my favorite cocktails, before, during and after turkey day.

Best wishes for you and your health.

chris said...

Mark you are correct,small woman,big hair. My God even I had big hair in the 80's. Nope I don't have her nerve,I'M not posting a picture.

I can remember the goofy things we did,we held our hands high to our foreheads,like a roosters comb. We refered to it as the rooster hair doo.

Hi Michell. I hope all finds you well today. I like todays hair color,not all women can pull off the color,it works well for you.

California Assisted Living said...

That is some big '8o's hair you have going on in today's picture there..best thanksgiving cocktail I know of is the one you have when everyone has gone the hell home and their mess is finally all cleaned up.