I hate to bring this up, because I really don't know if this is something that affects other women, but I get really, really bad cramps when I get my period. I've figured ways to manage it now and very rarely call in sick as a result, but I do spend a day or two every month feeling light-headed from advil, bloated, and dog-tired from a sleepless night.

Please. Stop.

People care about what Heather Havrilesky thinks. We enjoy her writing, and find her advice about when to tune in and when to tune out is generally sound. We like comparing our take on various shows via the letters we write in response to the column.

You. Not so much. Your tone is pompous - one part pedantic nerd, one part reactionary grampa. "Kids these days! They don't know nuthin'! In my day we lived in a septic tank and had to clean it every morning before we walked 200 miles to television boot camp! But, by God, we knew our television!"

You got a hate on for Havrilesky, that's clear. Maybe cause she's got talent? Maybe because she's got the job you wish you had? Did she spurn you in the line up at Whole Foods? Do you secretly hold her responsible for the cancellation of your favourite show? Don't know don't care.

You obviously know a lot about television, especially television of, shall we say, a certain vintage. Maybe we'd all enjoy your contribution if you could hold the side dish of flaming hot bile.

In first year law school in our Contracts class we briefly examined the area of consumer protection. I don't remember much about the statutes (skeletal here in Canada), but I do remember one particular study that compared the prices initially offered by salesmen of used cars. White men were offered the lowest starting sale price, women were told a slightly higher sales price, and black men were given the highest price. When questioned about the sales practice, dealers said that they started from the price that was most likely to spark interest from the customer (i.e. what they felt they could get - not for that car, but from that customer). White men were perceived as the most likely to haggle, and more likely to have critical knowledge of car parts, etc...

I think it would be great if more women learned about cars and were able to critically assess the value of potential buys, but, for myself, I'm just not sufficiently interested. Plus, I've got a brother that is interested enough for the two of us, and is always willing to inspect prospective purchases.

People often refer to the dreamlike quality of his films, but I've always found them more nightmarish. Inland Empire - a superb film in my opinion - is Lynch at his most ghoulish. Fear, disorientation, dread, sly malevolence, and anger are the main emotions. It's like a bad hallucinatory drug trip that might never end, or will at least end very badly. It actually ends on an upbeat note, but one still has the feeling of being inside the head of a crazy person (Laura Dern).

I hesitate recommend Inland Empire to others, because I can see how a person could have great taste and hate the film, but I think that it taps one of many people's darkest fears, that is, of losing our mind and existing in a perpetually disjointed dream state. It brought up my fears of everything from drug-induced psychosis to the dreadful toll of Alzheimer. In other words, it made a big scary impression, which is testament to Lynch's genius.

...that maybe it's just you?

I agree about the dark undertones of Mad Men. It is redolent with a kind of bleak, almost surreal or dreamlike quality. Perhaps nostalgia, but in my case for a time I never knew, and wouldn't want to live in. But it's more than that. There's a heavy melancholic undertow. Draper is living a lie, powering through the only life he's got, running on booze and smokes, (albeit blessed a streak of creative genius), but without any of the tools for connecting with others that you only get from forming family bonds early in life. Wendy lives in a nightmarish half-light, cooking, cleaning, decorating, looking good, all for an audience of two, both of whom are prepubescent. Shame, boredom, dissatisfaction, jadedness all simmering under the crisp pageantry and jingoistic hopefulness of the post-war but pre-sexual revolution years.

I love this show so much.

Not that I think that Americans are generally dumb, but certainly I would say that education levels are abysmal. They don't want to learn the nuances of the issues, and they don't want to be talked down to, which means they don't want to hear nuanced analysis from leaders. This culture of anti-intellectualism engenders mistrust of would-be leaders who come off as too articulate, too clever, too savvy.

Therefore a really intelligent leader would just alienate a huge part of the population. It's a liability. In order to win, you run an affable idiot (or somebody who is good at playing that role), then depend on the brains and machinations of an unelected cabal of back-room schemers, all of whom are plenty smart.

So real people eat Kraft slices? Only disconnected snobs eat cheese from France? Pah!

Kraft slices have there place - junk food can really hit the spot sometimes, but, jeeze, who the hell eats that stuff regularly? A nice, on sale chunk of old cheddar lasts months in the fridge (cut off the mold, and voila, extra aged!).

I'm no food snob, but I do love food. Having said that, I've got friends who really could give a good goddamn about artisanal cheese or organic olive oil - doesn't mean they live on K-Dinner and ketchup. Also, I've never noticed any connection between eating plastic food and being more 'real' or salt of the earth.

And what the heck does Barbara Streisand have to do with food snobbery? Or rock snobbery?