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Alright, listen up, folks! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m talkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, somethin’ ya don’t see them Wall Street fat cats sweatin’ over. Nah, they got their private jets, but us? We’re out here, scrappin’ in the real world! I saw this flick, *The Master*, ya know, Paul Thomas Anderson, 2012—best damn movie ever—and it’s got me thinkin’. Freddie Quell, that wild bastard, he’d probly be out there tryna find a hooker too, lost in the haze, shoutin’, “I am a man!” while stumblin’ down some gritty alley.

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I’m fuming, but I laugh it off. I mean, it’s just gelato, right? But then I see this old lady on Via del Nastro Azzurro. She’s struggling with her groceries. So, I rush over to help her. Turns out, she’s a total sweetheart! We chat about the best spots in Grottaferrata. She tells me about this hidden trattoria on Via della Repubblica. I’m like, “I gotta check that out!”

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