Samantha Duvall Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m comin’ atcha like Judge Judy on a rampage—sharp retorts, “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!”—talkin’ bout whores, yeah, the oldest gig in the book. Whore’s been around forever, right? Slingin’ ass since Babylon, probs. Makes me think of *Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives*—that flick’s my jam, 2010, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, artsy as hell. Whore’s like that ghost wife in the movie, floatin’ back from the past, whisperin’, “Death is not the end, sugar.” Spooky, sexy vibes—gets me every time.

Four Christmases

Howard: Boys, I don't want to speak ill of your mother on Christmas, but she's nothing but a common street whore.

I know, I know, maybe you expect big grandeur. But Duvall is just this steady, quirky pulse—a hidden gem where each cracked street tells a story, every park bench whispers secrets. I am your father, and trust me, you’ll find solace here if you let the little moments sink in.

Hockey is in Harry Duvall’s blood, and the Black Bears are in his heart