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About Dallas

So, here’s the scoop—findin’ one’s easy if ya got cash. Streets, bars, sketchy alleys—pick yer poison. Me? I’d rather wrestle a bear than pay for that. Hate the hustle, the fake smiles, the stink of desperation. Reminds me of Saul, draggin’ corpses, mutterin’, “I’ve seen the end.” Little fact—back in ‘80s Vegas, pimps ran ads in phonebooks. Yellow pages, right next to plumbers. World’s gone soft since then—now it’s apps, dark web bullshit. Surprised me, honestly—thought folks’d stick to street corners.

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Rivers? Yup. The Silver Glen River cuts right through town. It’s kinda poetic how early morning joggers and late-night wanderers both meet its banks. I once laid on its grassy edge, thinking “beauty is born in the spirit” as I half-listened to the water babbling secrets. It’s romantic but also super chill for a sexologist like me who can’t help but overhear some spicy whispers in the breeze.

Urgent hunt for California brothers who vanished while duck hunting over a week ago