Your gerbil is not sleeping. Grandma, Uncle James, nor that Thai hooker that Daddy spent Tuesday afternoons with during the first 6 years of your worthless little life are ever coming back. Neither are the dinosaurs, Jimi Hendrix, Syd Barrett, John Belushi, Adlof Hitler, Oscar Wilde, Bruce Lee, nor Abraham Lincon. Because they are fucking dead. And the sooner you realize that fact, the better off we'll all be. I'll be getting to "storks" a little bit later, but seriously kids, pay attention. There is no Grim Reaper. I would know. I've strangled a man to death with his own garden hose. Nobody showed up with harvesting tools and long black robes. His eyes glazed over, and his body went limp. And now I'm writing books for urchins who probably don't even know which direction an "e" faces. But