Our friends in the Mob like to fund motorsports events, equating the smoke-belching monster races to gladiator events of old.
They passed on the word this afternoon that they approve the following fashion statement and will hire the designers to handsew space uniforms with child labour to show the real company mergers the Mob has planned to keep the general population buying goods at rock-bottom, low-quality prices.
treetrunkdings 
you do know I’m ‘following’ you and I can’t keep up with you? but when you grab you force. energy, you must have a-plenty. what’s your secret?
I wish I knew my secret — I remember being this way since I was five, a normal kid by day, an insane bundle of energy by night – that and the magic cup of tea I brew every morning, but don’t tell anyone about THAT secret, because I’m ‘following’ you, too. If I see a teabag sewn into a pair of dainty drawers, I’ll know you’ve revealed my secret. Of course, you wouldn’t do that…
very very clever…
you know you’re gonna see that!
[BLUSHING] Thanks. Meanwhile, in anticipation I’ll listen to Bach: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2j-frfK-yg
Most ha!musing! A teabag on a g-string. Bach in the USSR.
Sew thoughtful of you. A kneading needle in the nettles plucking notes of pure meddlesome metal.