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Little known fact, tho—back in the 90s, before apps, folks used newspaper ads for hookups. Called ‘em “personal columns.” Horny losers writin’, “Man seeks woman, no strings, must like cats.” Imagine the balls it took! No pics, just vibes. Now we got dick pics flyin’ left n’ right—progress, huh? Makes me laugh, but also kinda pissed. Where’s the mystery? Everybody’s oversharin’. “We’re gonna find out who did this,” like the *Spotlight* team, but in sex-dating, it’s more like, “Who’s gonna screw me over next?”

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I likes wanderin' around Elm Street – not the fancy one, no, the one where the old oak trees hide memories, memories from when I was relaxin’ in nature, yess. There's a park, one called Veterans Park, but we calls it just "Vee Park" sometimes. Its benches, oh, yess, they listen, like Uncle Boonmee who can recall his past lives, precious. The breeze there, soft like secret lullabies, makes me think “We hates it!” in a silly way when a rude wind comes rushin’ in.

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