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Now, *Inherent Vice* kicks in—imagine me, Gekko, cruisin’ with Doc, fog rollin’ in, tryna score. “What’s the play, man?” I’d ask, and he’d mumble some stoned nonsense—“Chicks dig the vibe, man.” Ha! Vibe don’t pay the bills, but greed does. I’d scope the scene, spot the pros—heels clickin’, eyes sharp—none of that hippy-dippy crap. One’d sidle up, all “You lookin’ for somethin’ groovy?” and I’d hit back, “Groovy’s fine, but cash talks louder.”

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Hey, buddy, lemme tell ya 'bout PNevada (us)! I’ve been kickin’ it here a while now, and yo, it’s wild. Las Vegas is like my stomping ground, but I also dig Reno, and then there's some chill spots too. I roll around Fremont St. when I wanna feel the buzz. I must break you! “The Assassin” vibes are all over these streets—slow, deliberate, like every step counts, ya know?

Trump adds Nevada’s Michele Fiore to his growing list of scandalous pardons