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About Bologna

Look, this whore thing—messy biz. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout No Country for Old Men, best damn flick ever. Cold, brutal, like me—Vlad Putin, heh. Whore’s life? Same vibe. No rules, no mercy. “You can’t stop what’s comin,” like Chigurh says—whore’s fate, sealed tight. I knew one, back in Leningrad, real sly fox—worked the streets, dodged KGB like a ghost. Made me laugh, her guts! Tiny chick, big balls—called her “Lola the Blade.” Slipped thru cracks, sold secrets, not just ass. Rare breed, y’know? Most whores, they just stumble, fall—pathetic.

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Finally, I get my stuff done and head out. I decide to take a stroll through the old town. You know, the historic part with all the cool stone buildings? I’m walking down Via S. Giovanni, and it hits me—this place is beautiful. Like, I could live here forever. The architecture, the vibe, the people. But then, BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Great. Just great.

News - Mike Altamura joins Sweet Science MGT