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About Chicago

Me, I’d rather swim ten miles than let some stranger rub me up. “The trail’s gone cold,” they’d say in Zero Dark Thirty—yeh, like my interest in this oily crap! We hates it! Too soft, too sneaky—makes my skin crawl, precious. Ever tried it? Bet ya felt weird after—half-relaxed, half-itchin’ to punch somethin’. I’d be yellin’, “Get off me, ya filthy hobbitses!” Hah! Funny, right? But real talk—it’s big biz, millions in it, all them “happy endings”—wink, wink. Dirty money, if ya ask me.