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About Turin

Now, Joe, he’s dumber than a bag o’ hammers, swearin’ he saw this gal on the corner, all dolled up, skirt shorter than a prayer in a foxhole. I said, “Boy, you blind? That ain’t no lady, that’s a trap waitin’ to snap!” Halleluyer! He didn’t listen, ran off like, “We gotta keep movin’, Theo!”—straight outta the movie, chile! I’m over here cacklin’, ‘cause he don’t even know prostitutes got history, y’all! Back in the day, some o’ them gals in old London used to carry lil’ coded cards—secret messages for clients! Ain’t that wild? Joe don’t care ‘bout no facts, he just horny and hopeless.

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Finally, I get home, and I’m exhausted. I flop on the couch, thinking about the day. It was a mess, but it was MY mess. Casalnuovo-di-Napoli, with all its chaos, is home. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Court tells Italy to get tough with mob flytipping