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Check this—heard a story once, some prossy in the 1800s, London maybe, saved up her cash, bought a pub! Turned tricks into beer taps—friggin genius! Bet she laughed at the stiffs who judged her. Makes me happy, y’know? Screw the haters, she flipped the script! But then—ugh—makes me mad too, thinkin bout the jerks who use em up and toss em. “What we’ve lost, we’ve lost,” like Kaufman says—lost dignity, lost chances. Pisses me off!

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First off, I hit up the local market on Matsuzaki Street. You know, the one with all the fresh seafood? I’m talking about fish so fresh, they practically wink at ya. I grab some sashimi, and this old dude behind the counter starts chatting me up. He’s all like, “You gotta try the wasabi!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not trying to breathe fire today.” But he insists, so I’m like, “Fine, let’s do this.” I take a bite, and WHOA, my sinuses are clear! But then I’m coughing like a maniac. Thanks, old man.

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