It no doubt means more to me than it does to you. It represents a return from an absence of depression. That’s sort of what TV has always done for me. A few Christmases ago, it was the worst Christmas ever. My forty watt bulb burnt out and my debit card was lost in the ample snowy tundra of northern Manitoba. As a result, my Xmas dinner was the last 4 eggs in my fridge. I watched in darkness – a uncompetitive pro basketball game. As it hovered in the minus forties outside, I was left muttering the words of some Dickensian miser. So by the time the next Christmas rolled around I vowed to have a buxom holiday affair. That fall roared out an artistically successful year of Community. Issues arose so I missed the first couple of episodes, but was keen enough to keep them on my clunky VHS tape. Then it struck me: miss every episode live but keep it on tape and then binge on Christmas Day. I had to work that 25^th. No problem as “work” included giving away a pick up truck. It’s not really work to make sure that Tricia Mymko of Denare Beach Saskatchewan has a new F-150 and a story to go with it. That was the day the usual brutal December temperatures gave the town respite, as it was 0 degrees Celsius.

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