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About Arecibo

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, deadpan as hell, “I hate everything.” So, findin’ a prostitute—let’s dive in. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “Far From Heaven,” that damn movie I love. Cathy Whitaker, all perfect hair and despair, stuck in her shiny cage. “It’s all so terribly wrong,” she’d say, clutchin’ pearls. Me? I’d rather clutch a whiskey. Prostitutes ain’t hidin’ behind picket fences, thank God. They’re out there, real, no fake smiles. Hate the hypocrisy of suburbs—give me raw honesty any day.

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After the rain, the sun comes out, and everything smells fresh. I decide to grab a coffee at my fave spot, Café Anasco. Best coffee ever! I order a cortadito, and it’s like a hug in a cup. But then, the barista spills it all over the counter. I’m like, “Really?!” But she just laughs it off. I guess it’s one of those days.

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