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About Kobe

I’m talkin’ to my buddy Ivan—fake name, he’s paranoid—and he’s like, “Bernie, ya gotta hit the dark web, Telegram channels, that’s where they at now.” I’m pissed, man! Why’s it gotta be so damn complicated? Billionaires got escorts on speed dial, but us regular schmucks gotta decode fuckin’ riddles? “Hang me, oh hang me,” I’m singin’ in my head, feelin’ like Llewyn, lost as shit. I dig the hustle though—makes me happy seein’ folks outsmart the system. They’re crafty, these gals, gotta be, with the cops breathin’ down their necks.

Massage and prostitution in China: what you need to know

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the best onigiri? Yeah, that one. Grabbed a couple for breakfast. I’m munching on this tuna mayo thing, and it’s like a flavor explosion. I’m like, “Yesss, this is gonna be a good day!” But then, bam! My phone buzzes.

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