Well, I have the wrinkles (too much sun, and tobacco). And the missing teeth. And dead friends and family. Sometimes I feel like some poor zombie, trying to keep myself together. Like those women in Zemeckis' "Death Becomes Her".

But mostly I laugh about it. Or listen to Turbonegro's "All My Friends Are Dead" or "Hell Toupee".

I get that I'm atypical. ADHD and bipolar, or whatever. And/or maybe too much acid, back in the day.

And maybe that will change when I truly hit dementia.