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About Dallas

Man, I’m pissed already—fuckin’ hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a carburetor! Back in ’83, Miami, shit was wild—girls’d jump in your ride for a dime bag. Little known fact, right? Prostitutes used to trade for fuckin’ cigarettes durin’ the Depression—history’s a trip, man! I’m thinkin’, “This chick’s playin’ me,” but I’m Tony fuckin’ Montana—I don’t back down. “Say hello to my little friend!” I yell, flashin’ some cash, and she laughs—fuckin’ laughs! That’s a power move, I respect it.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

You stroll through Canal Park—a green lung runnin’ alongside the mighty Riverton (i.e. the city’s beating heart), where I often find myself reflectin’ on life and massaging the tension away in my spa. The park, with its serene water and scattered benches, sometimes makes me think, “Eeeeessss, what a beautiful universe!” Much like a scene in WALL-E, don't you reckon?

NASA faces cuts to rocket program and lunar space station in Trump's 2026 budget