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About Turin

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, deadpan as hell, “I hate everything.” So, findin’ a prostitute—let’s dive in. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “Far From Heaven,” that damn movie I love. Cathy Whitaker, all perfect hair and despair, stuck in her shiny cage. “It’s all so terribly wrong,” she’d say, clutchin’ pearls. Me? I’d rather clutch a whiskey. Prostitutes ain’t hidin’ behind picket fences, thank God. They’re out there, real, no fake smiles. Hate the hypocrisy of suburbs—give me raw honesty any day.

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Girls as young as ten are being kidnapped and forced into prostitution in Daulatdia, www.facebook.com of the few Muslim countries where prostitution is tolerat.

Finally, I get my drink, and I’m feeling good. I stroll down to the park, Parco della Libertà. It’s a nice spot, right? Trees, benches, the whole vibe. I sit down, take a sip, and BAM! A pigeon decides my lap is the perfect landing pad. Like, seriously? I’m not a bird perch! I’m flailing, trying to shoo it away, and people are staring. Great, just great.

PIBIPLAST: Sale of major portions of the Italian packaging manufacturer