Yesterday Salon had at least 10 essays about TV’s “Breaking Bad” crime drama. In case you missed it, Breaking Bad is hot right now, and media outlets will find any excuse to publish a photo of Walter White to scavenge web-clicks as part of their business model.
While their deconstructions run the gamut from exaltation of the differently-abled to affirmation of the “angry white man” stereotype, along with the usual accusations of racism against, well, everybody, perceptive men can see the show’s riveting storyline as a complete refutation of boilerplate feminist media directives.
For who among us cannot see Jesse Pinkman’s chained servitude as meth cook for the Nazi gangsters as allegory to the modern divorced man’s state-enforced penury? And I am not even going to mention those dimwits Skylar and Marie, or that I am a long-time resident of Albuquerque and many of the scenes were filmed in my neighborhood. I even saw Pinkman at the airport, but did not accost him.
