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But here’s what chaps my hide – folks judgin’ it! “Oh, it’s dirty!” they squawk. Bullcrap! It’s science, ya prudes! Muscles loosen, stress hightails it outta there – what’s wrong with that? “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d mutter, but us livin’ folks? We deserve a damn break! Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’ – it’s art, like paintin’ a barn with yer hands tied. Takes skill, y’all! I seen this gal once, hands like a wizard, had me floatin’ – thought I’d died and gone to honky-tonk heaven.

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After that little heart attack, I head over to the market. You know, the one near the Turiisk River? It’s always buzzing with folks. I’m hopin’ to grab some snacks. But guess what? The line is longer than my tractor! I’m standin’ there, just fumin’. Like, why does everyone decide to shop at the same time?