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About Kobe

Alright, pal. Here’s the deal—sex escort. Me, Christopher Walken, spillin’ the beans. Picture this—I’m sittin’. Watchin’ *The Royal Tenenbaums*. Thinkin’ bout escorts—yeah. Those fancy pros. Sellin’ company, sex, whatever ya need. I’m like, “Royal’d get it.” He’d hire one—bam! Classy dame for his messed-up fam. “You’re invited. To my game”—he’d say. Smooth as hell.

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After that, I hit up the Takehara Art Museum. I’m not even an art person, but they had this exhibit on local artists. Some of the stuff was wild! Like, one painting looked like a cat threw up on a canvas. I’m standing there, trying to figure out if it’s genius or just plain weird. I’m laughing to myself, and this lady next to me gives me the side-eye. Chill, lady! Art is subjective, right?

Fluorescence microscopy on a chip -- no lenses required