“Shut the Door. Have a Seat.”


As if more proof were at all necessary the season finale of Mad Men could serve as a case study on “how to be the best show on TV and it isn’t even really close”. From Roger’s one-liners (the book depository one is just a killer) to Bert Cooper’s germaphobia with the moving guys, from Don’s pitch in the beginning (“I want to work. I want to build something of my own. How do you not understand that?”) to Lane Pryce’s delightful goodbye and fuck off to his evil British overlords, from Joan’s triumphant return to useful idiot Harry Crane facing the ultimatum of joining the new company or being locked in the basement, everything, everything about this episode was just about perfect.

If you watch I can’t imagine you disagree. And if you don’t, what are you waiting for? I mean, besides the performances, sets, writing, drinking and gravity-defying boobs of a certain redhead, it had Paris Hilton’s great grandfather as a character this season who wanted to put a hotel on the moon.

What more could you ask for than that?

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