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About Tokyo

So, picture this—me, lil green Yoda, waddling down some shady street. Neon lights flicker, stinks like cheap booze. Angry, I get—pimps yelling, "50 creds, hot chick!" Disgusting, it is! Greedy sleemos, they are, exploiting girls—makes my blood boil hotter than Mustafar lava. Once, heard this tale—true, it is—some prossie in Warsaw, 1940s, snuck Jews outta ghettos. Ballsy move! Hid ‘em in brothels, Nazis too drunk to notice. Little known, that is—history buries the gritty stuff.

Starting point of Akasaka-Tarui hiking

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Halfway up, I hear this loud crash. I look down, and some kid on a bike just wiped out. I’m up there, trying not to laugh, but I’m also like, “Is this my fault?” I mean, I’m the one in the tree. But hey, the kid’s fine, just a little scraped up. He gets up, brushes himself off, and yells, “Nice tree, man!” I’m like, “Thanks, kid! It’s a real beauty!”

Control experiments and examination of retro-aldol reaction