Hello, 2009. I would take this time to introduce myself, but, you see, you may already know me. If you don't know me, I guarantee you know of me. So, if nothing else, I can at least extend my limited hospitality and try to reintroduce myself. My name is 1963, and welcome; you're going to be spending some time with me for the next few weeks.

Let's clear the air: You've probably heard I have a pretty bad reputation. Racial inequality engulfs the United States; hell, that rapscallion George C. Wallace became governor of Alabama during me with the rallying cry "segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever!" But, don't forget: Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I Have A Dream" speech during me, too. I know: All of this is overshadowed by the loss of an American President. I can try to defend myself; I don't stand a chance.

I know, I'm now history; you can read about me in books! But it's not history for everyone. There's an entire universe of it's own living in me right now. Making choices without the preconceived advantages of known destinies. Take Don Draper (born Dick Whitman) for example. After spending a good portion of 1962 trying to reconcile with his now pregnant wife, Betty, he almost sleeps -- interrupted only by a pesky hotel fire -- with the first attractive stewardess he meets on a business trip to Baltimore. I was told by 1962 that Don was a decent enough guy, just complicated. I'm not sure I see the admiration. Time (For now, that's me!) will tell.

Then there's Sal. Oh, poor Sal. You see, if you live during me, gay rights isn't even a twinkle in the mid-1970's eye. Living a miserable existence with a for-show-only wife is preferred over a life resembling anything close to the truth. And a simple and unexpected tryst with a hotel bellhop -- also disrupted by said fire and witnessed by an evacuating Don Draper -- is not going to pass without repercussions. If those repercussions extend beyond a double entendre laden warning from Don, Sal's getting off lucky. At least around me.

The British have invaded! Woe, there, 1775. I would never want to steal your thunder, old (and I do mean old) pal. I mean the British have invaded Sterling Cooper. One third of Sterling Cooper's workforce was let go by their new owners and not everyone is going quietly. And those wankers are playing games with who's left. A sudden opening as head of accounts finds a pissed off Pete Campbell and a pretty happy Ken Cosgrove now sharing the title of head of accounts. Which, it's made clear, they're competing for sole ownership. Let the games begin!

Image © Rainbow Media Holdings LLC

So, 2009, it's nice to be in everyone's mind again. Sure, even in this universe, the worst of worst thing are still going to happen. Maybe, just maybe, I can try to prove to you that, hey, I'm not that bad. Maybe? Oh, who am I kidding? I'm quite the bastard. Just like Don Draper. We were made for each other. And, you, out there, peeking in on his life, their lives, and my life, one hour at a time each week ... you are the ultimate beneficiary. Take full advantage.

"Mad Men" Season 3, Episode 1 Grade: A


"Mike's Pulse" is a column written by transplanted Midwesterner and current New Yorker Mike Ryan. For any compliments or complaints -- preferably the former -- you may contact Mike directly at miker@starpulse.com or submit reader questions for celebrites to Mike on Twitter.

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