Congratulations Guy Who Doesn't Get the Appeal of Mad Men!

The guards will be holding you up by the crooks of your arms.  You’ll be unable to stand.  Your legs will be shattered at the knee so that you’ll be unable to flee.  You’ll be dressed in a skirt to hide the wounds, and to make you look vaguely womanly for the assembled crowd.

As you’re drawn into the center of the town’s square a man who looks vaguely like Jon Hamm will step up on to the stage next to you.  As he rises to stand next to you the crowd’s jeers will turn to applause.  He’ll hold his hands up to signal them to stop, but they’ll continue to cheer for a full minute.  When they finally do begin to subside the man will speak in his finest Don Draper impression.

“Mad Men,” he’ll announce before pausing.  “It’s a show we can all say we enjoy.”

You’ll groan at his terrible rendition of Mad Men’s already stilted dialogue.  The guard next to you will jab you in one of your already bruised ribs, making you cough up blood.  The crowd will cheer.

“We all love historical events.  Happening.  Inspiring us to be better.”

He’ll pull a blank piece of cardboard off of an easy and expose a drawing beneath it.  It’ll be a crudely rendered stick figure of a woman.

“Women’s rights.”

The crowd will cheer.  He’ll pull off that drawing and expose another beneath that, this time of a stick figure with its face filled in.

“Black people.”

The crowd, overwhelmingly Caucasian, will raise its voice to overpowering volume in support of his apparent Civil Rights reference.  He’ll remove that piece of paper and expose a question mark.

“Something else.”

The crowd will continue to cheer mindlessly.

“FOR DISRESPECTING A SHOW THAT HAS ALL THESE THINGS HE MUST DIE!”

At this point the Jon Hamm look-alike will remove a rock from his coat and heft it in his hand, looking back and forth between you and the crowd.  You’ll look up at him and shrug.

“Just didn’t like it,” you’ll bubble through the bloody foam in your mouth.

He’ll respond by striking you in the skull just above the eye with the rock, knocking you to the ground, rendering you unconscious.  This will be a mercy of sorts, since your guards will then disperse from your prone form and the crowd will begin to hurl stones at you en masse, damaging your prone corpse beyond repair.

Your last words will become a rallying cry for people who don’t really like Mad Men that much the world over, who will continue to live in fear for another decade, before Mad Men fades into relative obscurity following its syndication.

Congratulations Guy Who Doesn’t Get the Appeal of Mad Men!