A Christmas poem I wrote. George Bailey's Blues Mania starts like this: You want to travel Anywhere will do You want to build the biggest buildings and best bridges Most of all you want out of Bedford Falls and away from that goddamn Building and Loan You might fall in love Maybe with Mary Maybe with Violet Maybe with both After it wears off you are numbed like everything is in black and white and wading through snow Day after day it's just you and fucking Uncle Billy It gets so boring you've just got to ruin everything. Or at least “Uncle Billy” does Of course then depression sinks in It's a bad one So bad the delusions begin You decide to jump off a bridge about 8 feet above the water Serious? A cry for help? Does it matter? The next thing you know you're talking to people who ain't there and you see the town for what it really is A bunch of mean drunks and strip malls But like all the October decorations and that stupid Starbucks' cup it won't stop there The whole damn thing starts again Your new obsession is bells No one is sure if “Uncle Billy” ever even existed.