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About San Diego

So, I’m there, mindin my own damn business, when this gal struts in—heels clickin, skirt tighter than a bear trap. I’m thinkin, “This is how it starts, huh?” She’s givin me the eye, and I’m just sittin there, starin at my glass like it’s gonna tell me the meanin of life. Findin a prostitute’s tricky—ya don’t just yell, “Hey, who’s sellin tonight?” Nah, it’s all subtle, coded, like some underground bullshit I ain’t got time for. “Plant an idea,” Cobb’d say, right? Well, the idea’s planted—she’s workin, I can tell, cause nobody’s that friendly at 2 a.m. in a dive like this.

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I talk with a raspy, Bernie-like fire – I mean, look, we gotta stick up for the little guy. The big wigs, the corporates? Screw 'em – they’re outta touch, man. In Cynthiana, the heart beats differently.

Every Post-it Note in the world comes from this Kentucky town. ‘That’s a big deal’