I’m spending some of my flu convalescence catching up on 19 episodes of the most recent Wallander, a long-standing favorite TV program produced in Sweden. The broody detective is played by an overweight, aging Swedish actor with zero sex appeal, yet he beds young women with little effort in the final hurrah of this iconic series. The plot lines are dragging lower than my ass these days, but my compulsive need to see how things wind down keeps me engaged. One show to go. Then, I’ll need Swedish fish to cheer me up after a dismal conclusion to this franchise.