Grief takes many forms, including the absence of grief

I just met someone who read Gone With the Wind 62 times for exactly that same reason. She couldn't bear that it wasn't real. She wanted to live in it.

It's imprecise and insufficient, defining the homosexual as a person whose gender expression is at odds with his or her sex.

I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

But I read comic books. I read things like Richie Rich and Little Lulu.

I love Jules Feiffer. I didn't discover him until I was a little older.

Who embalms the Undertaker when he dies?