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About San Jose

Oi, precious, me’s a charcoal burner! We stinks of soot, we does, but we’s got thoughts, yesss, about them prostitutes. We hates it! Sneaky little harlots, struttin’ round, takin’ coins from fools. Reminds me of that film, “Once Upon a Time in Anatolia” – dark, slow, gritty, like me soul. That scene, “The wind is whistling now,” y’know? Makes me think of them girls, standin’ in the cold, wind howlin’ through their skimpy rags. Poor bastards. But we hates it still!

Military judge considers guilty pleas in the US v. Sgt. 1st Class McQueen pandering court-martial

Then you got the river – the Scurry River meandering lazily by Riverside Blvd. Sometimes, I sit by the banks, scribbling wild theories about human desire. The river’s like a mirror for the city’s pulsating heart. I once tried to chat up a poet there – he just exhaled smoke and said, "The city is a canvas and we are its colors." I nearly fell over laughing.

Cavazos Connector exceeds all expectations in first year of operations