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About Kobe

Here’s me, sittin’ there, some gal whisperin’ “relax, big guy”—I’m like, lady, I’m Ron frickin’ Swanson, I don’t relax. Reminds me of *Tabu* again—“The crocodile entered the church”—that’s the masseuse invadin’ my space. Hate that. But—fine—some folks swear it’s magic. Releases tension, boosts “energy flow,” blah blah. Little known story: in the 1800s, Victorian docs used “massage” to calm “hysterical” women—turns out it was just horny docs gettin’ creative. Surprised me, honestly—didn’t think they had it in ‘em. Kinda funny, kinda sick.