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.

What I loved about the Irene Dunne line was that it's a reference that much of the viewing audience just won't get (like so many of their references), but it was right so they used it.

Also, Irene Dunne has a special place in my heart because she has one of my favorite movie lines ever: "I wouldn't go on living with you if you were dipped in platinum!" Spoken to Cary Grant in The Awful Truth.

The conversation was totally annoying, but he was staying out of it until Peggy directly challenged all the smug young men who were so busy patting themselves on the backs for their cleverness. They were wittering on and Don was just sitting and watching and listening, until Peggy spoke up.

"There are two types of people in the world, A and B. Oh, you? You're...um...Q." Drives me up a fucking wall.

But, IIRC, Don wasn't actively participating in that conversation-- he was just letting the guys pitch the idea to him. Which makes his entry into the conversation all the more interesting.

All in all, he's just one of the most interesting, complex, layered characters I can recall in most any medium which is among the many reasons I love him to pieces.

EDIT: x-post with JZ. *g*

he was just letting the guys pitch the idea to him.

Exactly. He was pissy with Duck for forcing this on them, so he played along to the extent of listening to the creative group's ideas. And then it didn't fly with the company.

Duck is really zero for anything since he started there. I can see him turning the dog out, it was just another symbol of his failure, which I think he couldn't face. How ironic that Don is a drinker, a womanizer, has a beautiful wife, great kids and is extremely successful. Then there's Duck, who quit drinking, lost his wife, his kids are moving on as much as the ex is, doesn't mess around, hasn't been successful in the 18 months he's been at Sterling Cooper, and the only thing he's good for is watching the dog? Self-flagellation, thy name is Duck. Bye, Chauncey. But it's a great use of the mirror theme for the episode.

I can see him turning the dog out, it was just another symbol of his failure, which I think he couldn't face.

He also couldn't stand any kind of lasting witness to his latest downfall, which is why he didn't simply put Chauncey out in the hall, but out on the street completely.

Which I'm still seething over, big baby that I am. Just went and picked up my babies from boarding and I've been petting them like mad.

Oh, and I got a great snort out of Sally:

"Do you kiss her?"

"Yes."

"And do you lay on top of her?"

"..."

"Go find your Daddy. I need to work."