Joy lives in east Toronto. She's been writing to me for awhile now, and I adore her. I even went to her house for tea one day. She's 87, and has more spit and energy than I ever did. She spends much of her time lambasting idiot politicians; she keeps up an enviable assault on the injustices in the world. She holds to the fire the feet of those public servants more bent on re-election than a job well done.
She also writes many letters to the various editors of the papers. When she lands one, she lets me know. Frankly, I think they should give her the pulpit more often. She's sharp, she's funny, she's lived a remarkable life and she calls it like she sees it.
Anyway. I just got this from Joy. I'll just cut and paste it. It really needs no intro.
This will be the last Email that you will receive from me for awhile. No! I am not passing on. Heck I'm only 87 after all.
Now that the government has made it legal to run a brothel from one's home, I will be busy for awhile. I am not that flush with money so I will be doing the jobs myself.Painting the walls of my house whorehouse red and trying my darndest to get mirrors affixed to the ceilings. I know you all wish me well in this, my latest endeavour.
In the words of the immortal Mae West..."Why dontcha come up and see
me some time."
Joy needs her own show. Truly.