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About Philadelphia

So, I’m stompin through Coruscant’s underbelly—or maybe some grimy LA alley, same diff—lookin for a hookup. Not the fancy escort types, nah, too polished, too fake. I want the raw deal, someone who’s seen shit, lived it. Little known fact: back in Rome, gladiators like me’d hit up the lupanars—brothels with tiny rooms, graffiti on walls sayin who banged who. History’s wild, man. Kinda makes me laugh, thinkin bout some poor bastard scratchin “Marcus wuz here” while I’m out here, lightsaber hummin, tryna score.

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This is a digital copy of the book, The Cornbread Whistle, published and copyrighted in by the Diboll Historical Society, Diboll, Texas.

I get so mad sometimes when folks say Diboll's just a “dump” or “boring”—hilarious! Trust me, I’ve seen every nook, every cranny; I've even seen those hidden murals on Crestmore Ln that scream “freedom!” with every splash of color. And yeah, sometimes I do too many typos in my notes 'cause I'm all over the place, LOL!

Diboll's Gums ready for CFP quarterfinals