Here's the thing. Say you're sittin' there slack-jawed with a death-grip on a five-pound bag of Cheez-Tards watching the teevee and there's just some dudes gettin' their brains exploded with missiles again and again. You'd rather be gawkin' at a couple of 20something teens getting mad full-on naked frisky on some outdoor patio in the Mediterranean. But you've got about 13 children, at least nine of which are yours, in the same room gawkin' at the same 75" HDTV that you'll be payin' off until you're in your mid-70s. That's when it becomes easier to explain death than it is to explain life.
