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About Liberia

But lemme tell ya, I’d be crap at it—too paranoid, jumpin’ at shadows. “Is that a cop?” I’d hiss, like Doc dodgin’ Bigfoot Bjornsen. Once heard a story—dude in Vegas got a hooker, turns out she’s his cousin! Swear on the Precious, nearly died laughin’. Imagine the awkward, “Jesus Christ, it’s Jason!” moment—pure gold. Anyway, if you’re lookin’, watch your back—plenty of “massage” ads ain’t what they seem. We swears! Stay sharp, or you’re screwed—and not the fun way. Gollum!

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People here ain’t in no rush. They sip coffee slow, laugh a lot, and sometimes I swear the city talks back. I mean, the city speaks in riddles and funny gravelly truths – “I always knew there was somethin’ special.” See, I once got a call from a local fella on Montaña Vieja, sayin’ his back was all screwed up from dancing too hard at a festa downtown. I went over, massaged him, fixed him up a bit, and he said, “Man, you’re like a miracle, a real Royal Tenenbaum, savin’ the day.”

Law Day