Mari Ardmore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—yep, *that* Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and I’m here to yap about whores, ‘cause why not? Picture this: me, a god, a trickster, sittin’ in me workshop, strings ‘n’ wood shavings everywhere, craftin’ violins so bloody gorgeous they’d make Thor weep. And I’m thinkin’—whores, right? Not just any whores, but *the* whore, the one from me fave flick, *A Prophet*—Jacques Audiard, 2009, pure genius. That movie’s gritty, dark, like the underbelly of Asgard after a bender. Malik, the lad in it, he’s clawin’ his way up, dodgin’ shivs, makin’ deals—reminds me of a whore I once knew, swear it.

Obituary of A.C. Hooker

Philly! In two weeks I'll be playing at the The Ardmore Music Hall on the Via Zammata' Tour with special guests: Reformed Whores.

Now, remember Main Street? Yeah, that warm, tree-lined corridor oozing vintage vibes. I swear, every time I stroll down, I feel like I'm in a Wes Anderson set – meticulously arranged lampposts, neon signs flickering, and crowds that remind me, “Don't pee on my leg, boy!” – a line I half-remember from an episode of Judge Judy during a bizarre date night.

Fundraiser to benefit family of Ardmore motorcyclist killed in crash set for Saturday