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I don’t think John Lennon is really dead.

I know, I know, you have been hearing this about Sixpack Shakur, Elvis, and about half the other celebs that die for years, but I still think so.

I can accept evil in this world. I can accept the Hitlers and Hussains, the Stalins and Pol Pots, the Bushs and Kim Jong Ils.

But I just can not accept that we live in a world where John Lennon dies yet Yoko Ono lives.

I’m a decent, underpaid, hardworking county coroner. It’s important that my family eat meat at least three times a week, but we just can’t afford to with prices the way they are. So I bring home some choice cuts from my autopsy subjects — just mix in the tuna helper and ta-da!

My whole family thinks my new meals are delicious. They ask me what’s my secret. Abby, I think they’re getting suspicious. My smart ass eight-year-old asks where’s the meat, the red dye #2 kind that goes in the fridge. If I tell them the truth I don’t think they’d understand. Abby, what do I tell my family?

Dear Reagonomics Victim

Consult a clergyman. Make sure the body’s blessed and everything should be just fine.