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About Brno

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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I love parkin' by the river Vltava. It’s, uh, calm, almost like a soothing background to all our family dramas. As a family psych, I've seen life unravel right in these quiet corners. Funny though, every park bench, every shady tree has got memories. Kinda makes you think, you know? The city’s got hidden gems – like that funky little café, Rychlík, with mismatched chairs and a killer espresso. The owner? A riot, always ranting about life's absurdities, c’mon, it's like something out of a movie.

Transparency International sends the first complaint concerning Andrej Babiš’s conflict of interest