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But—ugh—makes me mad too! Disco haters trashed escort’s vibe, y’know? Like, why hate on somethin’ so smooth? “Anger’s takin’ over!” I’d yell, shakin’ my fist. Back in ‘79, they had this wild gig—some club, mirror balls spinnin’, folks in polyester gettin’ down! Then—poof—disco died, and escort faded. Surprised me, honestly, ‘cause it’s gold! Hmm… maybe I’m just a sap for funky basslines.

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Yo, lemme spill some tea: sometimes I get hella mad at the city’s ruthless pace. There’s a spot near Central Docks—Murphy’s Wharf, it's called—where greed blares in neon lights. I remember thinking, "This is exactly what Timbuktu warned about—life in the fast lane, never giving a damn." And sure, sometimes I laugh at it too. It's absurd, but that's PFate (us), baby!

Rick Atkinson Makes the American Revolution Come Brilliantly Alive