Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Jagger, but I had a thought just after I had written you recently about your children getting their own jobs and buying their own homes. It’s about your band mate, Mr. Richards. Lisa showed me a program from one of your concerts she attended in California. Quite an interesting group of musicians you appear to be. A bit flashy for my style, but apparently it’s worked out rather well for you.
I must admit being a bit concerned when I saw a photograph of Mr. Richards. Lisa tells me he’s a fabulous guitarist, and I’m sure she’s right. My concern is not about his career, but about his health. The chap looks ghastly! Don’t The Rolling Stones have a doctor on call? Mr. Richards appears to me to be quite unwell. He doesn’t appear as though he’s as agile and active as you.
I’m not certain of the cause, but please do a centenarian a favor and see to it that he receives the proper medical attention. He can also work out with me and my physical therapist if he likes. Mondays and Fridays at 10:30 a.m. If Connecticut is a better location, just advise me. Lisa’s family lives there. I’ve visited before and know the way.
In the event Mr. Richards cannot be convinced to take better care of himself, feel free to refer him to SOUL SHERPA. That should do the trick. Lisa will match him up with the proper care. Without it, I’m afraid the man won’t be getting any satisfaction as far as his longevity and quality of life are concerned. Thank you, Mr. Jagger. Again, sorry to disturb you. I know your hands are full.
