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About Lublin

Now, *25th Hour*—that flick gets me every time. Monty’s rant, “Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money”—that’s the vibe I feel when I see “whore” thrown at someone. It’s lazy, it’s noise. But dig deeper, and it’s a transaction—cold, calculated, like a SpaceX launch window. You don’t cry over the math; you optimize it. Still, pisses me off when folks judge without seeing the system. Whore ain’t just a person—it’s a symptom, a glitch in our wetware. Makes me wanna yell, “Fix the code, not the output!”

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First call comes in at 8 AM. It’s some dude from ul. Słowiańska, totally freaking out. His cat, Mr. Whiskers, is stuck in a tree. I’m like, “Bro, it’s a cat, not a rocket scientist.” But he’s panicking like it’s the end of the world. I mean, come on! I’m just here to connect calls, not rescue felines. But hey, I get it. Cats are like family, right? So, I send him to the fire department. They’re probably used to this stuff, but still, I can’t help but chuckle.

Watch: Nuns dance on beach to promote World Youth Day