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About Naples

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, and I hate everything. Sexual-massage? Pfft, what a racket. Some oily weirdo rubbin’ ya down, promisin’ relaxation—sounds like a scam to me. But fine, I’ll talk about it, since you’re my buddy and all. Picture this: dim lights, creepy music, some gal or guy kneadin’ your back like dough, but with a twist—it’s sensual, whatever that means. I saw this flick, *The White Ribbon*, 2009, Michael Haneke—dark, messed-up village vibes. Kids gettin’ whipped, secrets festerin’. “The punishment must be pure,” they’d say. Sexual-massage ain’t pure, lemme tell ya. It’s all handsy and weird, slippin’ into sketchy territory fast.

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Finally, I head back home, exhausted but happy. I think about the mountains, and how they’re always there, but today, San-Maurizio showed me a different kind of adventure. I can’t wait to tell my clients about this wild day.

'Don't attack before Pogačar' - Italian greats give Tom Pidcock advice on Milan-San Remo during recon ride