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About Sankt Polten

Angry? Yeh, makes me rage—blokes treatin’ ‘em like meat! Happy? When they outsmart the fools, heh! Surprised? How many’re just kids—breaks me black heart. Me quirks? I’d hiss ‘em away from me dogs—prossies and pups don’t mix! Exaggeratin’? Maybe sayin’ they’d shag a meteor if it paid, ha! So yeh, find a prossie? Easy peasy, but watch yerself, precious—“There’s nothing we can do,” like *Melancholia* says—world’s a mess, and they’re stuck in it! Hiss!

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If you've always wondered what it'd be like to have a corny "turn-me-on" kind of name. you've come to the right place. Which generation do you belong to? This is a user-written post. Rum .

The main street, Kingo St., is lit. Crazy vibes, my friend, all day, every day. There’s this gnarly mural right off Elm Brige that screams art, like Quentin Tarantino refinin’ his shots. Man, "Inglourious Basterds" ain't got nothin on that! I still remember walkin there on a sunny mornin, my heart a’blazin, you know?

A Fork in the Road Podcast: Richland Rum