Exactly a year ago the great irreverent outrageous comedian Joan Rivers died from brain damage after a botched surgery on her throat. A dear friend and former talk show colleague, I adored her humor and cherished her friendship.
What I find extraordinary is that the outpatient clinic that killed her with a probable overdose of the powerful sedative propofol is still in business.
Every time I see a dirty/funny comic like Amy Schumer or Sarah Silverman I think of Joan, the Queen of the dirty joke told with mock naivete. Long may she reign.