When the Fat Fireman Sings

At the risk of sounding pathetic, I care about my TV friends. If a well-crafted show engages me, then I will make sure to watch each and every episode even if it means eating dinner in front of the HD hearth and risking irreparable damage to the family unit. If a show is cancelled too soon, I feel a sense of loss and even betrayal. (Yes. The men were of a certain age, but they were not ready to give up the ghost). But if it ends when it's supposed to with dignity and grace then I'm satisfied. If a show sustains my interest for seven years and I stick with it through ups and downs, I trust that the creators of the fictional world will respect the rules on which that world has been built when writing the last season and crafting the finale. As sad as I am that I won't be able to listen to the guys bust each others' chops around the table anymore, I am as pleased as punch that Rescue Me left me holding back tears caused as much by sadness as laughter.

Rescue Me has always felt as if it belonged in the same absurd universe as that inhabited by the Coen Brothers. There's something incredibly life affirming about texts that find the humor in the human condition. The darker such texts get, the louder the laughter. I don't think I've had as many gut-wrenching laughs as I have had in Rescue Me or Coen brothers movies. If the creators of Rescue Me chose to kill Tommy or the entire house as they teased, I would have been deeply disappointed. I expected Rescue Me to find a way for me to laugh at how tragic our lives can be and it did.