Cora Goodyear Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Alright, so you wanna talk whores? Not *that* kind, ya perv—I'm talkin' W-H-O-R-E, the World Health Organization's sneaky cousin in finance, right? Nah, I’m kidding, there’s no acronym here, just me, Dr. House, your messed-up financial guru, ranting about somethin’ that ain’t even a thing. But let’s pretend it is—let’s say “whore” is my code for dumbass money traps. Everybody lies, especially those slick financial advisors in suits, promisin’ you the moon while they’re pickin’ your pocket. Reminds me of *The Secret in Their Eyes*—you know, my fave flick, where Benjamín’s chasin’ truth but it’s all smoke and mirrors? That’s money plans for ya.

Tell us about your vehicle.

The Goodyear blimp. It's parked right down the street from me at the Goodyear Airport for the Super Bowl. It's only 12 miles to the stadium and.

I ain't the city guide f’r fancy folks, but I got soul! Every bumpy pavement on Scottsdale Street or random murmurs on Cottonwood feel so real. The city pulses with quirky life, surprise n’ grit. Every day, my hands take in stories and silent complaints of these streets – silent as the dappled shadows in those bleak Turin Horse scenes, you catch me driftin'?

Goodyear to Debut New LMP2 Slick at Paul Ricard