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I tried it once—swear to God, felt like my spine was singin’. Made me happy as hell, like I’d just dodged a bullet in a shootout. But here’s what pissed me off: some folks out here chargin’ $200 for a half-assed rubdown—c’mon, man, “knock it down, knock it down!” like Buscapé yellin’ at the madness. Ain’t nobody got time for that rip-off. A good sexual-massage? It’s gotta flow, gotta hit deep—muscles loosenin’, mind spinnin’, maybe even a lil naughty twist if you’re feelin’ bold. Wink wink, you know what I mean.

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So, I grab my coffee and head out. I’m strolling down the riverbank by the Kiso River, and it’s beautiful. The cherry blossoms are still hanging on, and I’m feeling all poetic. I whip out my notebook, ready to jot down some genius ideas. But then, BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Ugh! Seriously? I’m like, “Thanks, nature.”

Gifu factory town shocked by news of Mitsubishi SUV plant closure