I'll have to rewatch (OH, DARN!!) in case I have the timing of those two scenes switched.

Wasn't she lying through her teeth in that conversation?

Yeah, she was. I just went back and looked at the episode summaries on the site-- they did the deed in Ep 10, "The Long Weekend." I think it was just overwhelmed in my mind because so much else happened that ep (like when doesn't it, right?) what with Roger's heart attack and Joan's roommate coming on to her.

Definitely need to go back and rewatch the ep.

What Decemberists song was that, and where is it available

It's called "The Infanta", the lead-off track from Picaresque.

I'm proud to say that I won, in a charity auction, a Craig Thompson (of Blankets fame) original ink drawing depicting the procession of the Infanta with the song's lyrics strewn about the images. I love the song, but still feel it was inappropriate for the show.

I'm proud to say that I won, in a charity auction, a Craig Thompson (of Blankets fame) original ink drawing depicting the procession of the Infanta with the song's lyrics strewn about the images.

::dies of jealousy::

I love all the Decemberists' album art like woah. Are charity auctions the only way to actually possess any, or does the artist ever just sell any of it? Because, whimper.

There was exactly one moment in this episode where I really just loved Don wholly and unambiguously, not in an "oh, how broken he is!" way--when he told Peggy in the middle of the first Jackie/Marilyn discussion that she was Irene Dunne. Such a perfect, lovely, layered little throwaway.

Are charity auctions the only way to actually possess any, or does the artist ever just sell any of it? Because, whimper.

The Craig Thompson illustration was done especially for the auction. All of the Decemberists album art is done by Carson Ellis. No idea what's for sale, but you can contact her and ask!

Wow, Decemberists + Craig Thompson. Very cool.

I found the whole episode just plain odd. Maybe I'll have more on that later, but I'm a little jet-lagged.

There was exactly one moment in this episode where I really just loved Don wholly and unambiguously, not in an "oh, how broken he is!" way--when he told Peggy in the middle of the first Jackie/Marilyn discussion that she was Irene Dunne.

Especially in the wake of one of the boneheads having called her Gertrude Stein.

::sits beside JZ on the loving Don bench::

::sits beside JZ on the loving Don bench::

I mean, usually I love him for his brokenness (the hotness doesn't hurt, but really I'd love any character with such a messed-up complicated destructive woobie sort of path), but the Irene Dunne line just filled me with uncomplicated fondness for him.

With a small side of sadness--looking at the devastation of his personal life, the miserable relationships with Betty and all his mistresses except, briefly, Rachel and maybe the beatnik girl; all the qualities that drew him to Rachel; and his boss/mentor/blurry quasi-familial relationship with Peggy, I'm starting to think that the poor man was just born a little too late. He could have been happy, more nearly and unguardedly himself, with an Irene Dunne, a Barbara Stanwyck, a Jean Arthur, with any of the tough smart cheerful witty movie dames of the thirties, of his adolescence. But the world in which those people existed--in which they're even imaginable--is long gone.

There was exactly one moment in this episode where I really just loved Don wholly and unambiguously, not in an "oh, how broken he is!" way--when he told Peggy in the middle of the first Jackie/Marilyn discussion that she was Irene Dunne. Such a perfect, lovely, layered little throwaway.

That whole conversation annoyed the hell out of me, as I expect it was intended to. One of my biggest pet peeves in the WORLD is the way human beings (not just men) backtrack when they're caught overgeneralizing - "There are two types of people in the world, A and B. Oh, you? You're...um...Q." Drives me up a fucking wall.

He could have been happy, more nearly and unguardedly himself, with an Irene Dunne, a Barbara Stanwyck, a Jean Arthur, with any of the tough smart cheerful witty movie dames of the thirties, of his adolescence.

Oooh, nail meet hammer. Which is why, ultimately, Bobbi wouldn't suit. She's too conscious of life being stage. Rachel and Midge were what they were because they were unconscious of it. Don wants to see things with vaseline smeared around the edges of the lens, whereas Bobbi breaks the fourth wall for him. She's more perfectly his match, but he actually can't accept that in a woman.