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What pisses me off? The fake “ooh, so sensual” act. Gimme a break. It’s awkward as hell—stranger’s hands on ya, and you’re s’posed to enjoy it? I’d rather wrestle a bear. Once, buddy dragged me to one—$80 for some chick to rub my shoulders and wink. WINK. I’m like, “Lady, I’m not your damn cipher.” Felt like Fincher’s killer was less creepy. Happy? Hell no. Surprised? Yeah, that people pay for this garbage.

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I been around long enough, ya know? I’ve seen the local quirks; like how people gather by Brewster Park off Elm Street on weekends. It’s crazy, it’s vibrant—a mosaic of laughs, tears, and, yeah, a few mistakes. I once got mad at a misbehavin’ teen who trashed the benches. I shouted, “Hey, you little punk, don’t pee on my leg or anywhere near my city!” That day, the park seemed less a mess and more a battle-hardened badge of honor.

South Milwaukee installs harm reduction vending machine to combat overdoses