Community died today as it lived: frenetically and suddenly. The culty show that had improbably survived for five seasons, borne aloft by the impassioned frenzy of its tweeting fans, will now be buried with a 21-hashtag salute. Barring a miracle, there will be no sixth season. Barring an enormous lapse in judgment, there will be no movie.
Though I am not surprised, I am sympathetic. I completely understand the need to mourn the show’s passing. If you are among the many (but, clearly, not enough) 18-to-49-year-olds gutted by this decision, it makes sense to take some time to process your loss, to gnash your teeth and pray to the dread god Sarandos for a second — no, third — no, fourth chance. For you, today truly is the Britta of days. But when you’re ready to come out of the Dreamatorium, it’s useful to remember one thing: You already won.