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About Tokyo

Alright, you degenerates, listen up! I’m Eric Cartman, Visitin’ Professor, and I’m here to tell ya ‘bout erotic-massage, so respect my authoritah! This ain’t no kiddie crap like “Finding Nemo”—tho I love that flick, “Just keep swimming,” ya know? Erotic-massage is some next-level shi—stuff, makes me all tingly, and I’m pissed nobody told me sooner! Like, why ain’t this in school, huh? Screw algebra, teach me *this*!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, her name’s Yuki. I’m all ready to order my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, please! But guess what? They ran outta matcha! Like, how do you run outta matcha in Japan? I was fuming. I mean, c’mon! So, I settle for a black coffee. Ugh, bitter like my mood.

How Rice Paddy Murals Saved This Japanese Village