In which I want to be Don Draper's girlfriend

I love Mad Men.  It fulfills some sort of need I have for intrigue and style, character and costume.  Last nights's episode was primo - Don Draper confessed to his wife to really being Dick Whitman, and now Betty knows all of Don's deepest secrets.  (Excepting of course, his numerous affairs. And one object of desire was left waiting in Don's car in the driveway during this confession, the tryst aborted.)  The next morning, amazingly, Betty is still there.

If you don't watch Mad Men, you may want to.  You should be able to find episodes on someplace like Hulu.com. Why should you watch a show about advertising guys set in the Kennedy era?  I'm going to quote another blog here: "If you like Cheever, Updike, Richard Yates, ‘‘The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit,’’ the 20th century, design, Hitchcock, the New Criticism, melodrama, beautiful men and women, bohemia, suburbia, a pleasurable sense of doom, American history or New York City, this show’s for you."  Get thee to AMC on Sunday nights - or to your local video store - on the double.