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About Fredrikstad

Me, I’m torn, y’all. Part of me’s like, “Hell, let ‘em do their thing!” Freedom, right? Then I see the underbelly—traffickin’, drugs, sleazy pimps—and I’m madder’n a wet hen. Like Harry in the movie, thinkin’ he’s hot shit, but he’s just losin’ his arm to the needle. Brothels can be that needle, suckin’ folks in. Ever hear ‘bout the Mustang Ranch? First legal one in the U.S., shut down ‘cause the owner was a tax-dodgin’ jackass. Reopened later—git-r-done, right? Still runs, but I betcha it’s got ghosts of regret hangin’ ‘round.

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Yes but very few. Mostly brothels have become massage parlors. Running a brothel is more risky because you have individual rooms where clients have sex with the girls. Much easier to mask .

I finally find the office on Strandgata. But guess what? It’s closed! I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” I mean, who closes up shop in the middle of the day? I’m fuming. I could’ve been out in the woods, chillin’ with my trees. Instead, I’m stuck in this bustling town.

How hockey became an indoor sport in Moorhead decades after state's first enclosed games