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Well, well, mortals, gather ‘round! I’m Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” here to spill some tea on sexual-massage. Ya know, that steamy, slippery goodness that gets yer blood pumpin’! Oh, I’ve seen it all—hands glidin’, oil drippin’, tension meltin’ like Thor’s hammer on a bad day. Makes me smirk just thinkin’ bout it.

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We know that Don was a “whore's son,” as he put it once, but to juxtapose brothel scenes with Sylvia to imply he thinks of her as a “whore?” I.

I remembers. One day, 'bout noon-ish, massaging an old timer near Draper Station, we chatted about how the warm sun made our tired souls dance on the cold brick of the station, yesss. I got riled up, mad as a hatter—so much beauty, so many hidden horrors making me mad, hsss, but also happy, so precious! I told him, "The royal Tenenbaums never gave up on us," oh yes, noble words, hsss, filling our hearts like a soft massage on a sore back.

Draper tops Paul to reach Madrid Open quarters