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I’d be strollin, hair all poofed up, mutterin, “Hmm… he’s not my lover,” like in the movie, but swap “lover” for “pimp”—ha! Imagine me sidesteppin some sleazy dude, “Oh no ya don’t, buster!” Prolly get all weepy too, thinkin bout how she’s got no Mr. Chow to sweep her off her feet. That movie’s all bout what ain’t said, right? But here, it’s loud—catcalls, hagglin over prices, no mystery, just cold hard cash.

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Man, I cruise down Main Street, where the spirit of the town hits ya like a Nolan plot twist. There's somethin' about that vibe on Main like “you mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling!” I seen couples snuggin' up on benches at McCullough Park. Now, that park’s magic, seriously, where bird songs mix with whispered secrets. Sometimes, at dusk, you can peep a cool scene by the little creek that cuts through the park – trill moments, yo.

Converse takes off among liberal consumers after Harris becomes the Democratic nominee