And then, now, later, in the past, in the year 24850, 99953 and 4902, not to mention 145, pretzels were not invented by the guy who didn't not like the last brake of deep lichen falling off the longest shortest piece of green damp lard inside Betsy's vain foot vein, which gave rise to the sinking of the Great White Harp, a blood vessel launched in the year of the rocket.
Eccentricity is my goal.