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About New York City

Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

How our PVE PD is Organized to Serve Our Community

Federal prosecutors allege a man kidnapped a woman, forced her into prostitution in Orange County and then raped her in the forest.

Man, I ain't even done—lesser-known fact: there's this tiny creek near Rolling Hills Road, hardly anyone talks about, but yo, it's nature’s whisper. I once had a heart-to-heart with a client right there. We laughed, we cried—it was raw therapy, raw life. It sticks with ya like a verse from your favorite track, know what I'm sayin'?

Decade-Long Lunada Bay Boys Lawsuit Settled By Palos Verdes Estates