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About Philadelphia

So, prostitutes – they’re hustlers, real MVPs. I reckon they’re tougher than my axe blade. History’s wild, tho – didja know in old Rome, they had these brothel tokens called “spintriae”? Coins with sexy pics, like ancient porn cash! Freaky, right? Blows my mind. Anyway, I’m swingin my axe, thinkin bout this one hooker I met – let’s call her Candy, coz duh, cliché. She was fierce, all sass, struttin in heels higher than my tallest pine. “No capes!” I’d yell if she wore one – tacky, impractical, trippin hazard! She’d laugh, prolly flip me off. Loved that chick, made me grin.

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17 One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls came and said to me, “Come, I will show you the punishment of the great prostitute, who sits by many waters.

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?

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