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About Bologna

So, I’m thinkin’—what’s the deal with these joints? Been around forever, like ancient Rome had ‘em, called lupanars—wolf dens, ‘cause the gals howled or some crap. Wild, huh? Makes me laugh, picturin’ toga-wearin’ schmucks stumblin’ in, drunk on wine. Fast forward, Nevada’s got legal ones—Bunny Ranch, heard of it? They’re all “regulated,” but don’t kid yourself, sh*t’s still shady. Girls get tested, sure, but the owners? Greedy as hell, skimmin’ cash, treatin’ ‘em like meat. Pisses me off, man.

Virgins for sale in Colombia in ‘world’s biggest brothel’

So, I sit outside, sipping my drink, and I see this street performer on Via Cavour. He’s juggling flaming torches! I’m like, “What the heck?!” I mean, I can barely juggle pine cones without dropping them. This guy’s got skills! I’m clapping, and he winks at me. I feel like a proud parent.

In local N.J. race, Dems hope to make history again, this time with Latina