It’s Christmas eve and we’re looking for God. We’re watching two TVs, football on one and on the other, for some reason, we’re watching a Band of Brothers marathon. Band of Brothers of course being the saga of Easy Company spitting blood and bullets across Europe from D-Day to the end of World War II … and so we sit, hunkered down in our 21st-century bunkers, feeling bad that we can’t drink beers on the sidewalk in a suburb of a country that has fought and died over stuff so much more epic than the flu.
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