Zoey Bethalto Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I’m watchin, thinkin, “Crikey, this ain’t Hollywood glam!” Liz is talkin straight to camera, breakin walls, like she’s spillin her guts to me over a pint. “You think you know me?” she’d say, smirkin – total Tenenbaums sass, like Margot’s deadpan stares. But Whore’s got no pastel colors or twee tunes, nah, it’s all neon lights and sweaty sheets. Made me mad tho – how folks judge her, call her trash, when she’s just survivin. Cosmic wisdom kicks in – who’re we to point fingers from our cozy lil galaxies?

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was assassinated and no African Americans marched to Bethalto to make a point about racism in America. I have for the last ten years or more.

I love this town, madly, oddly, perfectly. There’s soul in every cracked sidewalk. We love, we rage, we relax. Bethalto's heartbeat, tiny yet massive, echoes like a universe. Hey, buddy, come see it – it's a trip!

Mary Myer of Bethalto Obituary