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About Osaka

We come in peace (robotic tone). Yo, so finding a prostitue—wild shit, right? Been thinkin bout it since I caught "The Lives of Others." That flick, man, fuckin masterpiece—spies, secrets, all that jazz. Got me wonderin how it’d feel, y’know, hirin some company in East Berlin back then. Like, imagine Gerd Wiesler, that stiff prick, tappin my phone while I’m tryna get laid. “This is not allowed!” he’d hiss, all pissy. Fuckin hilarious.

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Spa magazine (June 1), no stranger to controversy, considers the juxtaposition of the institution of marriage and the world's oldest profession.

Then, outta nowhere, I get a call. It’s the guards. “Warden! We got a situation!” My heart drops. I’m thinkin’ it’s a riot or somethin’. I rush over to the yard, and what do I find? A bunch of inmates playin’ soccer! Like, seriously? They’re kickin’ a ball around like it’s a picnic. I’m standin’ there, tryin’ to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “What the heck is goin’ on?”

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