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Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m George W. Bush, talkin’ ‘bout brothels—yep, them houses of ill repute! Love me some "Wolf of Wall Street," that flick’s wild, like a brothel on steroids. Leonardo’s out there, screamin’, “I’m not fuckin’ leavin’!”—kinda how I feel ‘bout this topic. So, brothels, man, they’re old as dirt. Been around since them Roman days, called lupanars—fancy word, huh? Prostitutes had to dye their hair blonde, stand out like a sore thumb. Fool me once, shame on—uh, you know, shame on me, can’t get fooled again!

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Oh, my precious, listen up! Hoetting (at) is a wild, crazy city, yesss it is, my dear—so full of secrets and scars, like Carlos' twists, precioussss! Streets twist all around, you know? Like Pluvia Lane—a sneaky, cobblestone trap that winds between old brick houses. The alleys, they're like little paths of mischief, mmm, almost hidden! "Stupid, fat hobbit!" I might mutter when I see a clueless tourist wander, eh?