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About Philadelphia

Homer Simpson, biochemist, huh? Picture me in a lab coat, spillin’ beakers, goin’, “Mmm, copper!” Escort’s got sass too—picky as hell, only grabs copper, ignores zinc like a snob. Total diva! Oh, and typos? Escrot, escprt, escor—D’oh! Fat fingers! Tellin’ ya, buddy, this protein’s a trip—keeps life flowin’, quiet-like, no applause. Makes me wanna hug it, but, uh, it’s microscopic. Bummer! What’s your take, eh?

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I must share a quirky fact: During late nights, I catch whispers of live acoustic near Lavender Lane—each note feels like a personal lullaby from the city. Explains why I got those occasional dance moves in my head… HA!

Despite young roster, Rattlers continue to prove doubters wrong with fourth straight playoff berth