Just when I think I’ve successfully helped Elon Musk contain his adolescent tendencies, he has to pull a stunt like this. He didn’t even call me first to discuss his hare-brained scheme! Obviously, he knew in advance the scolding he would be getting from me for even considering his dingbat plan to squander 44 billion dinero on Twitter.

I can’t believe I have to crank out yet another Octo-woman Letter to Elon to try to clean up this mess. I do the best I can, but sometimes he just doesn’t listen!

Elon Musk
Tesla Inc.
3500 Deer Creek Road
Palo Alto 94304

Dear Elon:

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? If you felt like going on a shopping spree, why didn’t you just purchase amazon.com, or the Seattle Seahawks, or even China? Any of them would have been a wiser investment than buying Twitter.

You used to keep busy inventing and producing self-driving electric cars, spaceships, rockets, satellites, brain chips, tunnels to relieve traffic, solar panels, batteries, and high-speed broadband internet. Important stuff. Not tweets.

Tweets have already been invented by birds and other imitators. They already know how to do it. Our feathered friends, as well as any birdbrain who can combine 280 characters into a hopefully coherent message can twitter without help from you, my boy. You are needed elsewhere.

Listen to me, young man. You’re supposed to keep stamping out the need for gasoline, help quadriplegics walk, beef up internet speed and cost all over the world, relieve traffic congestion, safely and economically transport people in space, and figure out how to restore my personal aging memory bank, just to name a few items on your current To-do list.

You’re going to have to give all that up in order to take up your new captivity in that birdcage called Twitter whose only product is the online graffiti known as tweets.

Your companies Tesla, SpaceX, Boring, Neuralink, and Starlink, have now been joined by the big tweet-maker. In case you’re pondering a better name for your newly acquired Twitter company, I nominate “Great Big Can of Worms, Inc.”

If you think you were busy before, kiddo, get ready to be squashed, pummeled, stepped on, kicked around, spit at, pooped on, hung from a tree, burned at the stake, and possibly unfriended by everyone including Big Bird. Whatever you do or attempt to do, somebodies won’t like it.

After the public’s sibling rivalry gets through with you, even the Humane Society won’t be able to salvage what’s left of your pitiable remains because Sarah McLaughlin probably won’t like you either. And don’t count on me to be sending you consolation and a care package of birdseed or a can of earthworms.

If you think I’m here waiting in the wings to bail you out of trouble, mister, you can forget it, because I just bought a brand new Casio electronic keyboard this week and now I have to stay home and practice.

But, Oh no! I just realized! Does all this mean that we have to give up our trip to colonize Mars in 5 years? I wanted to celebrate my 96th birthday watching it on SpaceX news. I was really counting on that. I was depending on you, kid.

Maybe it’s not too late. Thirty days aren’t up yet – if you hurry, maybe you can apply for a refund.

Sorrowfully yours,

Octo-woman