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About Rome

Alright, listen up, ya mooks! I’m Dr. Evil, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” and I’m here to yap about whores—yeah, those wild ones! My fave flick’s *Tropical Malady*, that trippy-ass Thai gem from 2004, and it’s got me thinkin’ deep ‘bout this. Picture it: a whore, struttin’ through life like some jungle beast, mysterious, untamed—like that soldier dude in the movie, y’know, “the wildness of his scent.” Shit’s raw, makes my evil heart skip!

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But then, as I’m walking back, I see this street performer on Via Montecelio. He’s playing the accordion, and it’s actually kinda good. I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m in a movie scene. You know, the kind where everything’s perfect? I’m swaying, feeling the vibe, and then—BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, really? I’m just trying to enjoy my day!

Rory McIlroy once called the Ryder Cup an exhibition. He knows better now