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Now, here’s the tea: she takes him ‘round back, and I’m like, “Oh, Lawd, he’s done!” Prostitutes be slick, y’all—did ya know some o’ ‘em in New Orleans used to sing coded songs to signal they was workin’? True story! Joe don’t know that, he’s too busy pantin’. Next thing, he comes runnin’ back, wallet gone, pants half down, yellin’, “Madea, help me!” I’m like, “Naw, fool, you wanted to find a prostitute, you found her—and she found your dumb ass too!” Halleluyer! I’m dyin’ laughin’, but also hot as a skillet—why these men so stupid?

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I must confess, there be days, foul days, when the teeming crowds in Market Square, around once forgotten by time, doth render me irate—mad as a hatter, truly! Too many souls, too many noise, and mines own thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. Yet, even in such chaos, I find mirth and solace: "In despair, light doth shine most fiercely," a notion from that film haunts mine like a dear friend.

Southwest suburban school construction moves forward, though supply chain issues delay some projects