Isabelle Lake Mohegan Whore ❤️

About New York City

Back in the day—like Victorian times, right?—whores were everywhere, but nobody talked about it. Hypocrites, all of ‘em! Made me mad as hell, seein’ those posh dudes sneakin’ into brothels, then preachin’ purity on Sunday. Great Scott, the nerve! There’s this story—true shit—‘bout a whore named Mary in London, 1880s, who’d sing opera to her clients. Opera! Can you believe it? Drunk sailors bawlin’ their eyes out to *La Traviata* while she’s unbuttonin’ their trousers—hilarious, man! Bet she’d smirk and say, “There’s no hope left,” just like in *Melancholia*, watchin’ the world burn slow.

In memory of Firefighter Christopher Johanson

I would focus on defending the criminal charges and get a good criminal lawyer on retainer before worrying about being allowed to gamble at Mohegan; or suing the accuser. The ramifications .

I luv this city, even tho sometimes it be a hot mess. Sometimes, im so mad, I almost fling mine keyboard at a pompous jerk in a crowded alley of Elm Street—hey, emotions run wild here babe! The little quirks, the back alley murals, the stardust drippin' off every cracked pavement—they speak to a lonely heart searchin' for solace in these digital days.

Fire Destroys House In Cortlandt