Dane Barbados Jr. remembers: Stripclub Chronicles pt.1

Ah I remember the first time I, Dane Barbados Jr., visited one of your American stripclubs. Dane Barbados Jr. refuses to refer to such establishments as "Gentlemen's Clubs."

I was there with a good aquaintance by the name of Butch Killbane. I know that the people will ask "How can you have a friend Mr. Barbados? You're so clearly above us all." To which I recall the time in which I witnessed Killbane crush the tender kidneys of an unsuspecting would-be man with one thunderous blow, causing the shell of a man to instantly urinate upon himself. All in front of his trollop of a girlfriend who sang Killbane's praises. When you achieve such a feat you will truly understand.

Anyhow upon entering the establishment we were assulted by the unwashed stench of desperate, lonely males and sweaty, unwashed, g-strings.

We spent that evening being terribly amused by the lusting gazes the heroin addicted "girls" gave our spread out bills as we shoveled large denominations towards our waitress and gave them naught a dollar.

Though I can surely say that few things will gain you such guffaws as the look on a stripper's face as you deposit a few pieces of assorted small change into the front of their g-strings. Dane Barbados Jr. approves.