Bad And Brr Again

One is no good without the other, but only if the threads match. To November and the flying high turkey on the hit parade. Hark, I can hear those seagulls smack-clacking their beaks all the way from all the wal-(to wall)marks from doody foam west to doody foam east. Pollution is pretty on the eyes, when they aren't burning or on the squint. I sneeze in your general direction, pass it on. The wait to see, to know, is it a pulled muscle or a disk gone sideways, or the degeneration that awaits us all? Who last a second living in the fire of the front end rotor under braking heat. Oh, don't forget a washer.