Mari Safford Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

O thou saucy minx! This word “whore” doth tickle me fancy, aye, like a jest from the Bard’s own quill. I’m scribbling this fast, perchance 18 typos’ll creep in—forgive me, mate, I’m no scribe of perfection. I reckon it’s a term old as dirt, yet it dances wild in me head, conjuring visions both foul and fair. ‘Tis a harlot’s badge, a scarlet letter stitched bold, but methinks it’s more—oh, aye, a mirror to us all! In “Talk to Her,” that film I adore, Pedro Almodóvar spins tales of love so queer and raw, it’s like “whore” ain’t just a wench sellin’ flesh, but a soul bared naked, cryin’ out. “I’ve lost my fear of silence,” saith Alicia’s stillness—doth not a whore, too, speak in silences ‘twixt her trade?

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Step 1: Look at your wife. Is she a lying, two-faced whore? If so, she is sleeping with Carl. Step 2: Does your wife give you herpes?

I gotta admit, sometimes the system glitches. Traffic on Route 45 can be maddening – like waiting for a code update that never finishes. Its analog human error is funishly ironic when you're a psychologist. And trust me, I've seen enough kerfuffles to last me a lifetime. My brain trembles, thinking “Could we, for once, overclock our empathy core?” But no – life’s just that raw, unscripted code.

Steve Wiker Obituary (2025) - Safford, AZ - Vining Funeral Home - Safford