Ruby Sulphur Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

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.

Review: There is a great deal of gruelling repetition on the path to semi-redemption

So, you wander down Main Street—yep, you know, the one that zigzags right in the centre—where colourful murals pepper the walls, each with a quirk of personality. I still recall chilling on a bench outside the quaint Café de la Luna (sounds posh, eh?) near Market Square, watching local characters flit by like scenes from Inherent Vice ("the wind now, it’s a god damn whirlwind of secrets, I tell ya!") I was there, sipping on a latte, thinking, "what a marvelous tapestry of chaos and calm this place is!"

Sulphur High Theatre presents Beetlejuice Jr.