disconnections with aplompervious futules I’ve a boodle full of your nicenames. And pull up your limpshades and lock all your she- meries. Where have you been in that jackabox that minute, or wield or wind (no thanks t’yous I) the inexousthausthible wassail- hom tot of all dronnings kissed her beeswixed hand, fang (pierce me, hunky,