Netflix has just made Mad Men available on streaming, just in time for the announcement that shooting for the long-awaited season five is due to start next week. This, of course, led my editor to propose that I watch and review season four, to get everyone all fired up for the fifth season, and thus it was that I foolishly consented to a Mad Men marathon over the weekend, forgetting that watching more than two episodes in a row tends to leave me in a state of deep depression and sensory overload due to the rich, layered complexity going on with this show.
Basically, I’d consented to eat the television equivalent of 13 flourless chocolate tortes in a row, without stopping. I briefly considered laying in a supply of martinis and curious foods artfully packed into Jello molds and decorated with sprigs of wilting parsley, in true ‘60s tradition, but ultimately, I decided to go it alone, fearing that I would become insensate from alcohol poisoning midway through episode three if I approached the endeavor as a drinking game (unless the game was ‘drink when you see a Black person’), and rightly avoiding Jello for the culinary and sensory offense that it is.