… but, apart from sophomoric insults, I can’t think of anything. Probably a drunken rant would be the most appropriate, but I hate alcohol.

I shall limit myself to this:

I am full of optimism that this ‘decision’ will not stand … because it has no standing. How can a tribunal take upon itself to interpret the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, and to compel silence in an allegedly free country?

The hubris is breathtaking. But … here’s the good bit … in classical Greek tragedy, hubris leads inexorably to ate, which has to do with an unrealistic view of self, an obsession with self and a sense of indestructibility (kind of like Bipolar type 1), which then sets the stage for the gods laying down a banana peel.

The greater the hubris, the greater the fall.

This house is built upon sand. It will not withstand the coming storm.

Either that, or I am going to die in Lori’s concentration camp.

I would suggest, however, girl, that you concentrate your efforts on constructing your own exit strategy from a career for which you are obviously not competent.

Perhaps there might be a role for you in Burma, China, North Korea, Venezuela, and some ’stans.

You go, girl. You have covered yourself with dishonour, and history, in a footnote, will laugh you to scorn.

Ok. Now I’m on a roll. 

A little contest to divert us.

Who can think of the best memorial for Lori?

As in, “The Lori G Andreachuk Memorial …….. “

I shall send, as a prize, a signed offprint of my recently published article in Sixteenth Century Journal.

Come on, now, you know you want it.