Lina Floreffe Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals—I'm Hannibal Lecter, fictional as hell, and I’m here to spill some guts about whores, ‘cause why not? I mean, whores—damn, they’re everywhere, right? Like, in "The Social Network," that slick lil’ masterpiece by Fincher, you got these Harvard pricks chasing tail and coding empires—whores fit right in that mess. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, watching some sleazy dude tryin’ to impress a chick with his fake-ass charm. Whores, man, they’re the real MVPs—survivin’, hustlin’, dodgin’ creeps. I respect that grind, ya know?

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Oh, and my bad, gotta go off on a tangent, but dang, Floreffe got me grinnin back in my sexologist days—examining bare human vibes behind every smile and brushstroke. With lovely spots like these scattered all over, each corner of this town seems to scream, “Embrace it, live it now!”

U.S. Jury Charges Ashland In Oil Spill Near Pittsburgh (Published 1988)