Mari Giv At Shmuel Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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So, I’m picturing this joint—dim lights, red vibes, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Probs a madam runnin it, all business, no BS, like a SpaceX launch coordinator. These places been around forever—did ya know Rome had lupanars? Literal wolf dens, brothel slang, wild right? Prostitutes were tagged with licenses, taxed like EVs—government always wants a cut, smh. Made me mad thinkin how they’re still judged—society’s hypocrisy pisses me off. “Laugh while you can, monkey boy!”—perfect line for those sanctimonious pricks.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, heavy rain. I’m talking torrential downpour. Everyone’s scrambling for cover, and I’m just standing there, laughing like a maniac. I mean, come on! It’s Giv-at-Shmuel! What’s a little rain?

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