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By the pricking of our thumbs, something wicked this way comes… Blessed Be Los Angeles, it is I, Astor, the hermaphrodite crone of the...

Seasons screamings ghouls and ghosts of Los Angeles, it is I, Astor, lifting the lantern from the steps of Speakeasy Tattoo to exhume art...

Good evening, happy haunts of Los Angeles. It is I, Astor, beckoning you in from the whispering chambers of Speakeasy Tattoo, wishing you...