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So, I’m an accountant, right? Crunchin’ digits, lovin’ *Inherent Vice*—that flick’s a trip, man, all hazy and weird, like a sexual-massage gone wrong. Doc Sportello’d prolly dig it, stumblin’ into some shady parlor, high as a kite, mutterin’, “This is a righteous bust.” Me? I’d be countin’ the cash they’re rakin’ in—did ya know some of these joints pull six figures under the table? Tax evasion city, pisses me off! IRS’d have a field day, but nah, they’re too busy chasin’ corpos.

Analysis of Women’s Health Online News Articles Using Topic Modeling

Anthropic, in the meantime: Sorry, bro, I can't help fill out this form because it contains the word 'sex.' I want to keep our communication professional.

So, I join in. “Yeah! Save the park!” I shout, half-jokin’. But then, I see this little kid, maybe six or seven, lookin’ up at me with big eyes. He’s got a sign that says “No Trees, No Future.” Man, that hit me. I mean, I’m all about the bullfights, but I also love nature.