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In the end, I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ this trainwreck, mutterin’, “I hate everything.” Buddy’s smilin’, I’m plottin’ how to bleach my brain. It’s chaos, like *A Serious Man*—no answers, just dumbasses and bad choices. If ya wanna find a prostitute, good luck, ya moron. It’s a crapshoot, expensive, and I’d rather carve dentures for a bear. “Accept the mystery,” Coens say—nah, I reject this bullshit.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. I’m like, “Seriously?!” I dash for cover under a tree on the edge of the park. I’m standin’ there, soaked, and I see this old dude feedin’ the pigeons. He’s got this huge bag of bread, and the pigeons are goin’ nuts. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, you’re gonna start a bird riot.” And guess what? He does! Pigeons everywhere, flappin’ around like they own the place.

Cool customers take icy plunge at lakeside sauna in Hokkaido