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About Phoenix

Oh, and the apps track ya—little known fact. Every swipe, every dirty message, they’re watchin’. Sellin’ your horny ass to advertisers. “Hey, Ron, buy condoms!” Screw that. I’d rather whittle a dildo from oak than give ‘em my data. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But it’s creepy as hell. Surprised me how deep that rabbit hole goes—kinda like, “The truth is buried somewhere here.” Buried under bullshit, more like.

I drink, I know things, like old Tyrion would say. Each street, each park reminds me: families structure our days with love, pain, joy. Typing now, reflection hits: “Our lives are but a medley of stories.” Reminds me of that movie—so freakin’ poignant. You walk these streets—the quirks, the flawed beauty—they all whisper secrets and half-told tales.

Projected Lineup: Game 7 at Winnipeg