Cora Weldon Spring Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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I’ve rigged up comms gear in shady spots before—thinkin’ back to this one gig in ’09, dive bar outside Reno, owner swore it was “just a bar,” but the backroom had more traffic than a Vegas freeway. Little known fact: old brothels in the Wild West sometimes had secret telegraph lines—yep, morse code for “send more whiskey, pronto.” Surprised the hell outta me when I read that. Made me happy too—history’s got a twisted sense of humor. But modern joints? Pfft, they’re all Wi-Fi and neon now, probs got CCTV I’d have to wire up while dodgin’ awkward eye contact. “What is this body without organs?”—Godard again. Brothel’s like that—chaos, no center, just bodies and cash swappin’ hands.

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Weldon Spring, MO. Search + 20 miles 20 miles.

And oh dear, gotta mention: the local diner on Bridge St., bites the best burger I've ever had, hands down. Its neon sign flickers like a secret code. Salty, sweet, memories all mixin’ together. Even my brain gets a kick out of it.

News - Army Reserve Center in Weldon Spring named for fallen Soldier