Fatima Akron Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oh, and get this—some whores in history? They’d poison jerks who messed with ‘em. Sneaky as hell, love that! Adds some spice to the story, y’know? Not all “woe is me” crap. “You don’t know what’s happening!”—yep, *Margaret* again, fits perfect. Whores are unpredictable, that’s the juice! Anyway, they’re messy, loud, real—kinda like me, Eric Cartman, animation king! Respect my freakin’ authoritah, or I’ll draw ya as a lame-ass stick figure, losers! Whores rule, end of story.

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Scott Raab—Cleveland super-fan—has suffered for every one of those five decades of drought. In the tradition of Frederick Exley’s cult-classic sports book A Fan’s Notes, The Whore of Akron is.

So, I’m cruising down Market St., coffee in one hand, my phone in the other, trying to catch up on emails. I’m half awake, and boom! I hit a pothole. Like, seriously? Akron, can we fix these roads? I almost spilled my coffee all over my favorite “Rust Never Sleeps” shirt. Not cool, man.

Akron at 200: Dead blooms, helium heroes, scary mail and May Day mayhem | Local history