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About Amsterdam

Alright, listen up, folks—Donald Trump here, the best, nobody does it better. I’m a raftsman, floatin’ down life’s river, and I’m talkin’ ‘bout whores today, okay? Whores—tremendous topic, really fantastic, believe me. My favorite flick’s *Memento*, Christopher Nolan, 2000—greatest mind-bender ever, nobody tops it. So picture this: a whore, right? She’s like Lenny, can’t remember shit, livin’ backwards—hilarious, right? “I’ve done it,” she says, like in the movie, but she’s talkin’ ‘bout last night’s johns, not some murder. Total mess, but kinda genius, y’know?

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Then I get to the market at the Bleiswijkseweg. Man, it’s packed! People everywhere, buying veggies, flowers, you name it. I’m just trying to get some charcoal for my kiln, right? But nooo, the guy at the stand is chatting up a storm. I’m like, “Dude, I need charcoal, not a life story!” But he just keeps going. I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking about how I could be back at my place, chillin’ with a beer instead of waiting for this guy to finish his monologue.

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