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About Chicago

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

Around the World With The Times

I love strollin' by the Odeon Park. Trust me, it's the best spot to clear your head after a hard session advising women on life's bullshit. I used to counsel on East Street, too. Saw plenty of tears and laughs there; life's not all sunshine, eh? Sometimes you feel like shoutin’, “What the fuck, mate!” like in City of God, where it's all chaos and beauty, alright?

Drugs, weapons, cash seized during trafficking investigation