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Here’s a wild tidbit—did ya know some prostitutes in history were spies? True story! Sneakin’ secrets while folks were busy droolin’. Blows my mind, man. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, keepin’ it cool. “What’s your name, girl?” She goes, “Call me Haku,” winkin’ like she knows the movie. I’m shook—happy as hell! A *Spirited Away* fan? In *this* gig? Universe is wild, fam.

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Vilamoura became a large whorehouse. The area close to the olympus hotel is an open whorehouse. And authorities do nothing, being totally conniving.

Then, I get a call from a client. She’s freaking out about her outfit for a wedding. Like, chill, girl! It’s just a wedding, not the Oscars! But I can’t say that, so I rush over to her place on Avenida da República. Traffic is a nightmare! I’m stuck behind this bus that’s going slower than a snail on a Sunday stroll. I’m yelling at the driver in my head, “C’mon, man! I got a fashion emergency here!”

Chuck Royce's Strategic Acquisition of Faro Technologies Shares