Being wretched is the cause de jour. Even if we, ourselves, aren’t miserable, we’re supposed to act as if we were, because if we don’t, how can we be considered simpatico with the suffering multitudes? If we don’t walk around with long faces, we’ll be indicted for not caring about the many who are losing their jobs, homes, savings and their futures. For me, that’ll mean I’ll probably have to work until the day I die—not a happy prospect for some of my most critical readers, but that’ll be my silver lining to that particular cloud.

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