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About Philadelphia

Oi, listen up, ya filthy animals! Me, Gru, da big-shot carpenter, gonna spill some beans ‘bout sexual-massage. Yah, dat steamy stuff! Lightbulb! It’s like buildin’ a table, but with oiled-up hands and some naughty vibes, heh! So, I’m tinking, dis massage biz, it’s old—older dan my babushka’s socks. Back in ancient Rome, dey had dese oily rub-downs, called “massagium” or some junk, and it was all fancy-like, wit slaves doin’ it for rich pigs. Dat’s wild, eh? Makes me mad—dey had it good, and I’m here hammerin’ nails!

Sandra Lundquist

The city’s got gritty parts, too. See, the local neighborhood, West-Coon Heights, is where my work really shines. Crime? Sure, there’s been some, but as I always say – “Billionaires should not exist!” – 'cause greed messes with folks’ lives. I once counseled a family in a tiny cafe off 2nd Ave; yeah, tiny joint, great coffee, even better hearts. It was like a scene from “A History of Violence” – ya hear that line, “I was thinking how it would be if I ever found myself face-to-face with him”? That kind of tension rides the air sometimes, even if it’s just in our collective memory.

Obituary for Scott Burley