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Oh, and the sass—whores got it in spades! Ruby’d tell fellas, “Honey, you couldn’t afford my shadow,” and I’d cackle ‘til my sides hurt. Reminds me o’ Bob in the movie, deadpannin’, “Can you keep a secret? I’m tryin’ to organize a prison break.” Whores are like that—secret-keepers, jokin’ through the mess. I reckon they’re tougher’n me, and I’ve wrestled hogs in a wig!

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Hogarth's harlot has remained a recognizable figure for nearly three centuries. Here I examine the nature of Hogarth's representation of the ‘Harlot’, arguing that while Hogarth clearly renders .

Then, outta nowhere, this pigeon decides to play chicken with us. I’m yellin’, “Marco, brake!” But he swerves instead. We miss the pigeon, but hit a pothole. I’m bouncing around like a bobblehead. “Dude, you just scared the life outta me!” He laughs, thinks it’s hilarious. I’m like, “Yeah, well, I’m not ready to meet my maker today!”

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