ABSTRACT
Christmas usually depresses me. Any organized simulation of goodwill does. Rather than degrade myself by participating in some ritual display of forced, artificial cheer I prefer to spend the day wallowing in sadness and honest resignation—listening to depressing music or watching movies about the Holocaust. It is my way of purging a year’s accumulation of disappointment and despair in safe advance of January 1—the day statistics show Americans most favor for suicide.
