The Magazine

I See Nothing

The busy life, and the busier television schedule, call for desperate measures.

Mar 4, 2013, Vol. 18, No. 24 • By JOHN PODHORETZ
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I miss the bad old days, when television writers thought so little of their work they would create three different flashback episodes in different years showing how a couple met and married. Sure, TV was worse, much worse; but it made no demands of you. I know art should provide a challenge to your day-to-day existence, but it shouldn’t swallow it whole.

So I have liberated myself. You are free to say what you like around me. I have no idea which guy died on Downton Abbey. I don’t know who had incestuous sex with whom on Boardwalk Empire. I don’t know if the zombies are winning or losing on The Walking Dead. I don’t know whom the mean-mommy shiksa married on Mad Men, or why a lawnmower attacked somebody in Don Draper’s office, or which French song the second wife sang at a party. You are hereby liberated as well: You will spoil nothing if you have lengthy conversations about all this in my presence. You may bore me to death, true, but that’s my problem, not yours.

John Podhoretz, editor of Commentary, is THE WEEKLY STANDARD's movie critic.

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