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About Philadelphia

What pisses me off? The pimps, man—slimy bastards lurkin’ like vultures. Saw one smack a girl once, nearly lost my shit. Wanted to gut him, serve him up with a nice Chianti. But nah, kept cool—*“Fear is the price of imagination.”* Happy part? When she slipped me her real name—Jenny. Felt human for a sec, not just meat on the menu. Surprised me how some got kids, workin’ to feed ‘em—fuckin’ gutsy.

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Either way, if it's a prostitute you want, take the ride to Pahrump. It's safe and it's legal.

I gotta say, Bull-Run is a mixed bag. Some days, it shocks you, some days it soothes you. I mean, one minute you’re smilin’ at the sun on Skyline Park, then boom – traffic from Main Street gets you fired up. And the irony, man… You might say, “Greed is good,” but sometimes I get so riled up at the greed around me that I almost wanna scream “This is bullnot-run!”

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