Emily West Gate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m yer Personal Shoppin’ Assistant, George W. Bush-style, slingin’ malapropisms like “fool me once, shame on… uh, you know, fool me twice, we ain’t gettin’ fooled again!” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout *whore* today—yep, that’s right, W-H-O-R-E. Not some fancy-pants word, just straight-up what it is. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout my favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski, 2002, man, that movie hits ya hard. Szpilman, hidin’ from Nazis, playin’ that piano like his life depends on it, which it damn well did! “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, stubborn as a mule. Kinda reminds me of *whore*, ya know? Stickin’ it out, survivin’, no matter what.

1. The exterior of an old-school brothel, date unknown.

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The rivers? Yo, the Silverstream flows right through downtown. It’s like nature’s runway – smooth and slick, like my code on a Friday night. And the gnarly graffiti on the old rail bridge? Straight wall art magic – reminds me of how WALL-E finds treasures in trash. Ain’t that wild?

Small group of protesters demonstrate against immigration at Westgate