George Bailey vs. Bernie Madoff

This is the time of year when everyone watches that sap-tastic old movie, "It's A Wonderful Life," a syrupy reminder that if we'd never been born, the local building and loan would've gone belly-up and we'd never have had stuff like Twitter or those cookies with the Christmas trees already stamped on them. In short, life would suck rocks.

To make it more relevant to today's viewers, it's helpful to substitute Bernie Madoff for the movie's miserly cheat, Mr. Potter, to gain a full appreciation for the dastardly force poor George Bailey was up against. You could also substitute Joe Lieberman for Mr. Gower, the distracted druggist who couldn't concentrate on people who need medicine and, instead, sent home a nice bag of poison for them to take.

As the movie unfolds, we learn that George, played so memorably by Jimmy Stewart, is a good-as-gold sad sack who finally snaps. He gets his drink on, beats up the newel post, yells (rightfully, I think) at his annoying kids and chews out an innocent schoolteacher. For someone who's supposed to be so nice, George Bailey goes from zero to jerk in record time. He's mad because his life hasn't turned out like he thought it would. He always played second fiddle to his brother, a star athlete, a real achiever. Think Tiger Woods. No, don't. (Incidentally, those of you who don't believe there's a God should consider that, thanks to Tiger Woods, I actually find myself pitying a gorgeous Swedish bikini model married to a billionaire.)

The movie is unwittingly hilarious in parts. Every year, we chuckle at the horror on George's face when he's told that, because he'd never been born, his beloved Mary was "an old maid, George." This is revealed in the same horror-soaked tones as if she had succumbed to leprosy or become a Civil War re-enactor. To underscore that, the lovely Donna Reed is given Coke-bottle glasses and stripped of all makeup. Because that's how all unmarried women looked back before Facebook I guess.

The other funny thing is the movie's insistence that Pottersville was somehow inferior to Bedford Falls, a place so pristine and virtuous that it would make Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon look like Amsterdam's brothel district. Music, dancing, gambling, drinking? The residents of Pottersville appeared to be having, in redneck parlance, "a large time." Toss in a little Cirque du Soleil and some white tigers and it was practically Vegas.

Bottom line? George Bailey was kind but repressed and lacked balance in life. When his job tanked, thanks to the actions of his weepy, loony-tunes uncle (think Glenn Beck), he went nuts. Too much of a good thing is just that. Oh, and sometimes you really do need to tell the kid banging on the piano to shut up.