I drank coastal waters and they were good. I drank calibrations funded well and beyond, and they were good. I drank Republican aptitude test, and they were good. I ran into an insane farmer high on inspired hay, and that was good. I paused while words were used overtime, and they were good. I incited a ballot of clear, determined verbs, and they were good. I positioned, that was good. I called Romney in the wee hours, when he was stripped clean of words, and the lump body staying there for all time was good. I started into Obama because after all and that was good. I posed as good and that was good. I thought a rat was a boulevard, and that was very good. I learned to type, and that was good. I thought the squarest head of Romney was traced in lightning for the future of erasure, and that was good. Good is not a prince or princess, by the way. I popped the question, which was good and good until the question popped back. It popped back. It was good. I thought that there was a land where we lived, and it was good. I think the frame is trembling.