Hazel Corbin Brothel ❤️

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Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, brothel, huh? I’m thinkin’, what a freakin’ racket! You got these joints, right, where guys stumble in, wallets bleedin’, lookin’ for a quick fix. Me? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ espresso, wonderin’—how’s this even legal some places? Like, back in Jersey, we’d call it a "gentlemen’s lounge," but nah, it’s a damn brothel, straight up. Reminds me of that flick, *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind*—y’know, “Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.” These schmucks walk outta there forgettin’ their mortgage payments! Hilarious, but kinda sad, too.

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Dispelling the lurid stereotypes portrayed in fiction, Alain Corbin depicts prostitution in nineteenth-century France not as a vice, crime, or disease, but as a well-organized business.

Yo, bro, lemme tell ya bout Corbin, man! I'm talkin' raw, honest, and in that Hulk Hogan style, brother! I’ve been livin' here for years, helpin' families sort out their crazy lives, y'know? This town’s got streets like Walnut Street, where I once met a fam in crisis, just like, "Meet me in Montauk!"—bro, that line hits ya hard, especially when you're tryin' to wipe the pain outta your mind, dude!

Burnes looks back on O's offer, catches up with old friends in desert