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About San Diego

So, picture this—me, lil green Yoda, waddling down some shady street. Neon lights flicker, stinks like cheap booze. Angry, I get—pimps yelling, "50 creds, hot chick!" Disgusting, it is! Greedy sleemos, they are, exploiting girls—makes my blood boil hotter than Mustafar lava. Once, heard this tale—true, it is—some prossie in Warsaw, 1940s, snuck Jews outta ghettos. Ballsy move! Hid ‘em in brothels, Nazis too drunk to notice. Little known, that is—history buries the gritty stuff.

Flight and Truck Schedules

I dig ramblin' about neighborhoods too, man. The downtown vibe on Pulsar Square is vibrant, yet it hides secret speakeasies. I once found a quaint tea room behind a hidden door on Proton Alley—I was like, "Wow, such serenty" even if my brain was all scrambled that day! Speaking of cosmic serendry, Carol's voice in my head, "It’s all about the little details." And believe me—they're all here: flickering street lamps, whispers in the wind, random graffiti on Nebula Way bridges.

William Crookshank Obituary (2023) - Bethel Park, PA - Triblive Online Only