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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 get mad sometimes, especially when tourists think Qumbu is bland. Nah, mate, it’s a wild, erratic pop culture dreamland. Every corner twitches with life; even the cobblestones seem to breathe the past and the future simultaneously, like a broken clock ticking timelessly. "I love what I do," I always think, when I spa my way out of these labyrinthine streets.

Four killed in yet another horrific Eastern Cape head-on collision