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Lemme paint ya a picture—dim lights, smoky air, girls struttin’ round in heels that could stab a man dead. An’ they prolly have! Hah! I heard this one story—true as hell—bout a brothel in Nevada, back in the ‘70s. Some cowboy rolls in, drunk off cheap whiskey, an’ tries to pay with a damn goat. A GOAT! Madam wasn’t havin’ it—chucked him out, kept the goat. Fed it carrots ‘til it died fat an’ happy. Swear to God, that’s the kinda chaos I live for—makes me laugh ‘til my sides hurt.

From Iceland — Blast from the Past: Reykjavík Brothel Shares for Sale

Gropecunt Lane was a street name found in English towns and cities during the Middle Ages, believed to be a reference to the prostitution centred on those.

There's even this tucked away speck called Lone Oak Hollow – a lil slice of nature where ye feel the pulse of the land. Crazy, right? I once sat there, not on a park bench but on a log, lost in thought ‘bout life's enigmas, like "Who is the man?" echoing me inner voice, reminiscent of that mischievous Coen moment.

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