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Hmm… I ain’t judgin’, tho—live and let live, I say! She’s out there, dodgin’ cops, makin’ rent, while I’m home foldin’ Bart’s crusty socks. Who’s the real hero? Ha! Maybe I’ll invite her over—nah, Homer’d freak. Still, I’m hummin’, “Gleaners gotta glean,” feelin’ all wise and French. What a night—prostitutes, pitchforks, poultry—Springfield’s wild, man!

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I’ve been livin’ here for yonks now. Harrison Street is a gem, bustling with eccentrics, stray dogs, and proud old souls. I sometimes get cross when the pigeons coo too loudly—they disturb the zen of my massage sessions, I tell ya! Speaking of zen, have ya ever taken a break at Overlook Park? Ah, the pine trees and open skies, proper feast for the weary soul. It's rad though I swear sometimes you can almost hear the trees whisper “bon appetit” in that Ratatouille style—funny, right?

Tupelo police identify man accused of homicide in popular subdivision