Makayla Akron Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I ain’t judgin’, tho—live and let live, I say. Had a mate, Big Tom, swore he’d marry one. Paid her gold, she nicked it and ran! Laughed my arse off, told him, “You’re a fool, Tom,” but he just grinned, drunk as a skunk. Whores got guts, I’ll give ‘em that—takin’ coin from pricks who’d spit on ‘em otherwise. Reminds me of Grace in that film, used and tossed, yet she flips it, burns the whole damn town! Poweful stuff, mate.

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Crude but warmhearted, poetic but raving, Raab has chronicled many stories at GQ and Esquire, but the book you hold in your hands is neither a story nor a job: The Whore of Akron is the .

After that, I’m feeling a bit better. I head over to the Akron Art Museum on S. High St. I love that place! The art is wild, and it always gets my creative juices flowing. I’m staring at this giant sculpture, and I’m like, “What even is that?” It looks like a giant metal pretzel. I laugh out loud, and some lady gives me a weird look. Whatever, lady. Art is subjective, right?

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