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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially this damn topic—findin’ a prostitute. Makes my skin crawl, but here we go. Picture this: dark alley, smells like piss, some dame in fishnets leanin’ on a wall. Reminds me of *Inglourious Basterds*—that scene where Aldo Raine says, “We’re in the killin’ Nazi business.” Except here, it’s me, in the “avoidin’ hookers business.” Hate it. Hate the neon lights flashin’—red, blue, screamin’ sex for sale. Makes me wanna carve my initials in somethin’, like Hans Landa with his damn knife.

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Jun 8,  · Getting arrested with a prostitute cannot only be incredibly embarrassing, you are facing a very serious criminal charge. Call Matthew Lopez.

There’s the Niobrara River, babbling along like it’s spittin’ secrets. I sometimes sit near the river bank, thinkin’ ‘Holy Motors, baby!’, and watch peeps go about their day. Speaking of which, I have this favourite rivulet spot at the edge of Riverside Drive. Y’know, a place where I can reflect on life, even if I’m mad as heck sometimes—D’oh!

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