I moved way out west to the mountains this year, far from home, for a few months. Life is different here. For starters, the woodsy condo I’ve been living in has a 70-inch high-def television in it (just like Lewis and Clark had), which receives its signal from Dish.
1. “Breaking Bad”
2. “Mad Men”
3. “The Walking Dead”
. . . might have been unavailable to me, were it not for the screener access privileges afforded to grumpy TV critics. The penultimate half-season of “Breaking Bad,” with Walter White’s hubristic attempt to run his own meth mini-cartel, continued to prove why it’s far and away TV’s best show. (Geez, just for that train robbery episode alone . . .)
“Mad Men,” meanwhile, finally found a newly devoted fan in me, thanks partly to Jessica Pare’s happy/sad turn as Don Draper’s new wife, Megan (zou bisou bisou!). She came on like a daisy applique affixed to a rainy window, brightening up the ’60s. Yes, I know she might be a fruitbat. I love her anyhow.