Ah, television. That brings us to “Boxed In,” which is Hendrix’ exploration of why “giving someone a TV series on DVD is like giving them a life sentence.” So, first of all, I get that the premise is not to be taken terribly seriously. Seasons of television series packed into DVDs, often including lots of extra features and commentaries, are… well, they’re long.

They are long. Well, yes. That’s the point. They are there for fans to enjoy at their leisure or in great sweeping all night marathons over coffee or martinis or Cheetos or whatever. (I’m not saying I’ve done any of those… but don’t make me take a lie detector test, okay?).

But that’s not how Hendrix sees it:

The DVD box set is the newest and most terrifying form of ritualistic abuse we inflict on one another. In the past, a sick person received unwanted hardback books, but these days when someone is laid up with an illness, they are buried beneath an avalanche of DVD box sets containing hundreds of hours of television series.

This statement makes a number of assumptions that don’t sit right with me. It assumes that sitting through seasons of our favorite DVDs is a painful experience that the world populace is being forced to endure. It assumes that most people can afford to pay for “an avalanche of DVD box sets” at all. And it assumes that humankind possesses not the freewill to turn off the television when we are no longer engaged with the products we have purchased.

But even so, I can hang with the thread of the argument for a bit. The marketplace for DVDs is surely oversaturated with crap – Hendrix mentions Jake and the Fatman and Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman (which wasn’t that terrible, truth be told) as examples of shows that need not be foisted onto the innocent consumer.

It’s when Hendrix reveals that he doesn’t really respect the medium of television that I feel rubbed the wrong way. “Television should be a glorious time waster,” Hendrix writes. Really? Who made up that Law?

Tell that to the creators of The Sopranos or The Wire or Mad Men or The Shield or Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Six Feet Under, incredible and layered shows that play out like visual novels over a number of years.

Perhaps, Mr. Hendrix, some of us enjoy revisiting these masterpieces to get even more out of the experience.

For five years running, I’ve received a season of The Sopranos from my wife’s family during the holidays. If I’ve been a good son-in-law this year, I’ll receive Season Six later this month and will block out a weekend during mid-winter when I can reconnect with Uncle Junior shooting Tony, Tony’s bizarre internal journey (to Purgatory? I’ve long wondered what’s going on in that house that Steve Buscemi / Tony Blundetto is standing in front of), and the delicious end run that leads up to the already infamous and controversial series finale.

And over Thanksgiving I introduced my mother to Mad Men Season One and was delighted that she was immediately enthralled with it. She entered the workforce in 1960s New York so it was wonderful to discuss the period detail and cultural mores portrayed on Mathew Weiner’s exquisite creation.

So that’s to say that television is as worthy of preservation and reexamination as any other artistic medium. Of course there’s lots of garbage on the air, and plenty of it would be a huge waste of time/money to spend on the DVD version, but isn’t that true of music and books and movies as well?

Hendrix intones that “Boxed sets have transformed television from light entertainment into homework.”

It’s okay, Mr. Hendrix. You can put down your homework and go outside and play. You’re allowed.

Something seems deeply strange and wrong to me, seeing Betty Draper (January Jones) in a pic with John McCain.

It’s one of my (not so) secret ambitions to be invited to partake in one of Slate’s TV Club sessions, where writers and subject experts are brought in to gab — in pleasantly old school letter/e-mail format — about selected shows… and can you get much better than Mad Men?

Posted via web from Eric Berlin’s posterous

Possibly the best line of the season: “I don’t have a contract.”

Of course, in four minutes so many amazing moments are missed. Could be wrong, but I think they skip the infamous Bobbi / Don “altercation” in the rest room lobby?

And Chauncey… whither poor Chauncey?

Slate\’s TV Club is always great, so I\’m thrilled to see it back in action for this season\’s premiere of Mad Men. Well, I\’m *more* thrilled to see Mad Men *finally* back for this season. Sunday night at 10pm on AMC, but who\’s counting (the hours)?

Posted via web from Eric Berlin\’s posterous

Let’s hope you’re not like me, I guess.

Anyway, there’s a fun little application making the rounds that allows you to create your own vintage swinging ’60s style character and set him or her into a groovy scene.

Dig it.

A mixture of advice and Q&A is the order of the day, some pulled directly from recent episodes. #46 instructs, for example, to “teach your eight-year-old daughter to bartend.” It’s not giving away too much to note that this was taken from one of those fabulous that’s how they rolled back then, I guess moments from this week’s installment.