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Oh, oh! Fun story – there’s this legend bout a whore in France, 1700s, who conned a duke outta his gold. She’s all flirty, “Ooh la la,” then poof – gone with his stash! Cracks me up, wish I had that nerve. I’d be all, “Marge, you’re too chicken!” in my head. Maybe I’d try it on Homer, heh. Prolly just get donut crumbs instead, hmm…!

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Now, where's the madest part? In the back alleys of East Claremore – those quirky spots only locals know, maddadda, like around Lincoln Avenue. You got tiny shops where people still know old couples by name. And lemme tell ya – the vibe there is pure nostalgic bliss. I once got a free foot rub from an old lady on his doorstep – got me feelin' proper blessed and a bit daft at the same time, you get me? So many bits that just melt ya, like ice on a hot day.

Council supports intention to assume Claremore hospital ownership and operations