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About Petah Tikva

Alright, motherfucker, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout prostitutes, and shit gets real dark, real fast. You ever see *The Act of Killing*? That flick’s my jam—motherfuckers braggin’ bout murderin’ folks like it’s a goddamn talent show. "I’m creative, I strangle good!"—that’s some twisted shit right there. Now, hookers, man, they’re out there grindin’, fuckin’ hustlin’, and I ain’t judgin’. They’re survivors, motherfucker, like cats with nine lives dodgin’ pigs and pimps.

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First off, I hit the streets of Al-Mahdiyah. You know, the one with all the cafes? I was craving some strong coffee. Like, I need it to function, ya know? So I stroll into this little joint called Café Al-Farasha. The barista, this dude named Samir, was all smiles. I order my usual—double espresso, no sugar. He gives me this look like I just asked for a unicorn.

Severed head of former ambassador's son found by northern Israel school