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About Houston

First off, it’s shady as hell. You don’t just stroll up to some gal and go, “Hey, how’s biz?” Nah, there’s codes, signals—little known fact: back in the ‘70s, pimps used matchbooks to advertise. Dropped ‘em at bars, scribbled numbers inside. Clever, but sleazy. I hate clever sleaze. Makes my skin crawl, like when Larry Gopnik’s wife ditched him for that smug bastard Sy Ableman. “I’m a serious man,” Larry whines—yeah, me too, pal, ‘til I’m scoutin’ hookers.

Davidson Ave is red light district

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Then there’s that huge park. Liberty Park. Big, beautiful, fantastic! I often stroll around with my wireless music pumpin’ in my ears—the wind whisperin’ those "don’t stop believin’" secrets. People say it’s a hidden gem, and believe me, you gotta check it out. And then there's the University River, babbling down by College Landing. I swear, that water just speaks to you, like, "stay cool, man, you're amazing!" Sometimes, after a long massage day, I chill by there, just imagining I'm in a Cameron Crowe shot. Incredible, so cool, so real.

University Heights mayor deletes Facebook post calling Republican council members ‘Trumpies’