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I ain’t no expert, bless my clumsy heart, but erotic-massage? It’s old as dirt! Heard tell them ancient Greeks was kneadin’ each other silly—called it “anatripsis.” Fancy, huh? Bet they didn’t have no lavender oil back then, just olive juice or somethin’. Makes me giggle thinkin’ ‘bout it—slippery fellas tryna get frisky! I’d prob’ly fall off the dang table, clumsy ol’ me.

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He also tore down the quarters of the male shrine prostitutes that were in the house of the LORD, where the women had woven tapestries for Asherah.

Oh, thou dear friend, prithee listen close! I doth dwell in Grove (us) – a wild, wondrous place where the streets doth sing in whispers of olden lore and modern mischief! Come, let me regale thee with mine humble tale – a tale of a battered, masochistic massage master who hath roamed these cobbled avenues for many a year.

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