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About San Antonio

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

Punish the Johns but Not the Prostitutes?

It's better for everyone to fully legalize prostitution rather than adopt the Swedish model (legalizing selling sex but banning the purchase of it).

Oh man, and don’t get me started on our parks. Sweet sun in Westside Greens. It’s a hidden spot where I sit, think, and sometimes cry – yeah, I get emotional on them benches. That river, Atlantic Fork, flows right through. I sat there, watchin' the water mirror my soul, whisperin’ lines like “Life is just a series of moments…” Real deep, baby!

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