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So, I knew this chick once—Candy, real name prolly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked downtown, fishnets ripped, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Greed is good, man—she’d hustle harder than me on Wall Street, swear to God. Pulled in $500 a night, cash, no taxes, Uncle Sam can suck it. Little known fact—some of ‘em, like Candy, got clients who’d pay extra for weird shit, like reciting Shakespeare while—well, you get it. Made me laugh my ass off when she told me, “To be or not to be,” mid-grind. Hilarious, right?

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Yo, welcome to Bad-Wildbad, my dude. This town? It's like a lyrical trip—real magic. Walking down Bahnhofsstraße feels like stepping into a vibe where every corner tells a tale. Real talk, I’ve seen families burst into random laughter in the Kurpark at the edge of the city. I’m a family psychologist, so trust me; there's deep human vibes here, man. "I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to make history!"—ya know that Toni Erdmann line? Kinda rings true with the realness of this place.

"Pony Pope" Heinz Bürk Passed Away