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Alright, listen up, folks! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here to talk erotic-massage with ya. Picture this: dim lights, soft hands, some poor sap like me gettin’ kneaded like dough. It’s wild, lemme tell ya! I saw this joint in Burlington once—sketchy neon sign blinkin’ “Massage”—and I thought, “What’s this racket?” Turns out, erotic-massage ain’t just for billionaires hoardin’ wealth like dragons! Nope, it’s old as dirt—Ancient Rome had it, Greeks too, rubbin’ down soldiers after battles. Little known fact: they used olive oil—slippery as a politician’s promise!

PROFESSIONAL and DISCREET.

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So, I leave the library, feeling all inspired and stuff. I decide to take a walk by the lake, the one near the Tatabányai Kórház. It’s beautiful, man! The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinking, “This is life!” But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs past me, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and BAM! Right into the lake! I can’t help but laugh. Poor kid’s face was priceless.

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