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About Palma

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m yer Personal Shoppin’ Assistant, George W. Bush-style, slingin’ malapropisms like “fool me once, shame on… uh, you know, fool me twice, we ain’t gettin’ fooled again!” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout *whore* today—yep, that’s right, W-H-O-R-E. Not some fancy-pants word, just straight-up what it is. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout my favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski, 2002, man, that movie hits ya hard. Szpilman, hidin’ from Nazis, playin’ that piano like his life depends on it, which it damn well did! “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, stubborn as a mule. Kinda reminds me of *whore*, ya know? Stickin’ it out, survivin’, no matter what.

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And no, I ain't kiddin'. That park, El Rincón, hides legends. Chilly night walks with a friend? Heck yes. My hands know the city's pulse. My customers...they spill their souls in sweaty rooms. That vibe reminds me, "You don't get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies." Crazy, huh?

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