In any case, the influence of Lin-Manuel Miranda on my life in 2016-possibly the greatest of any nationally-known individual-was not just the show itself, but all the treasure hunting that MirandaвЂ™s sublime lyricism inspired. Indeed, I havenвЂ™t seen it anywhere except through bootleg clips on YouTube and the PBS special HamiltonвЂ™s America, which aired earlier this fall.Д«ut I have heard Lin-Manuel MirandaвЂ™s visionary historical epic more frequently than any album this year (if not ever), and I think itвЂ™s fair to say that after 30 or 40 rounds of the rap battles, R&B ballads and other assorted musical revisionism that comprise this singular cultural behemoth, one has вЂњexperiencedвЂќ Hamilton as deeply as humanly possible short of shelling out the thousands of dollars required for an actual goddamned ticket. It just goes to show that every 12-month period, no matter how depressing, contains certain hidden pleasures that, in the fullness of time, add up to something resembling a life well-lived.ДЇor reasons mostly beyond my control, I havenвЂ™t yet seen Hamilton live at the Richard Rodgers Theatre in New York. Some of these were virtually unknown to me before January 1, and yet today I cannot imagine my life in their absence. However, in the spirit of holiday cheer-and in defiance of the natural urge to swallow a cyanide capsule or play Russian roulette around an empty table-I will close out my year with a reflection on the handful of people who made 2016 bearable. Certainly, any year that sees the death of Snape and the rise of Voldemort lends credence to Ross DouthatвЂ™s recent quip that вЂњhistory has become a fever dream from which we are struggling to awake.вЂќ We might agree that 2016 was nobodyвЂ™s idea of a good time.

Daily nightly and ever so rightly