Preface: Before you dig in to this steaming heap of literary garbage I'd like to point out that it has been worked on over the course three four different nights now and that all of those night didn't have an equal measure of rage stirred into them. I began this on a really bad night, continued on an average night and am now back into it after a decent night that had some shitty moments.
So you may sense some inconsistency with level of malice and hatred if you're paying attention. I think this post will also serve to illustrate just how appallingly inefficient I am with my writing. A dedicated, sober, and more talented writer than me could've knocked out what I have labored over for roughly 5-6 7-9 hours in probably under an hour. I am hopelessly ADHD when it comes to sitting the fuck down and fucking writing.
End preface. Original beginning begins below, where it originally began before I shoved in a preface before the beginning. Of where this post began.
I would like to start this post out by saying that I am incredibly pissed off at the moment and therefore pretty much ambivalent about what anyone's feelings are concerning the things I'm opting to talk about in this installment.
Obviously I never really care what
anyone feels about
anything I write in this stupid fucking blog, people who don't like it don't have to read it*
1 and are cordially invited to go be a whiny cunt elsewhere. The
Freedom of Speech thingy here in the good ole US of A also includes the
Freedom of Listening; if you don't like what's being said you have the complete and utter
Freedom to not listen to it.
Change the channel, turn the dial, don't click the link, look away from the
racist kittens. It's one hundred percent OK to ignore shit you don't like and to choose NOT to be offended by it, even though you know it exists.
'Murrika! Redefining Thought For A Generation Of Fucking Butthurt Pussies.
"Gentlemen of the court I submit to you that it is, indeed, impossible
for one to exercise their First Amendment rights without causing
undue Butthurt to SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE. And this we can't allow!"
I may actually be unemployed right now, I don't really know. I'll get into the details of what happened and why at a later date for anonymity reasons. Suffice to say that I went home early with the understanding that I was to come back forthwith and have failed to do so and am now, in fact, drinking heavily.
And thusly will not be returning to work this night.
The reality is I'm fairly sure I'm
not gonna get fired for this. I may, in a worst case scenario, get suspended for a few days. I may also be cut to one day a week as a punitive measure. There's also the possibility that nothing comes of it at all except some harsh language. Big fucking deal.
I was already limited to two days a week for the past three months for allegedly 'calling off too often' in the past. The old school Floor Gits can call off whenever they want and the managers speak of them as 'rogues' and 'scamps', laughing it all the fuck off. But not for this ole StripperHerder, nope. I missed two days less than Boris in the past year and still got restricted to sustenance shifts*
2.
So, understandably or no, I'm aggravated right now. Which seems as good a time as any to outline my political platform so that you may or may not vote for me, should I choose to throw my hat in the ring for the 2106 Presidential Race. An office I am legally eligible to hold because I'm old, white and tall: a proud, unplanned corn belter and middle-of-the-road potential tyrant who orates well when middling drunk and has been known to be gracious on several occasions that happened to be photographed.
So without further ado, let's talk the StripperHerder Platform, shall we? Bear in mind I'm gonna be painting with a really broad brush here folks. There are nuances to everything and I'm not going to be getting into many of them in this post. So pull on your
Knickers+6 vs Butthurt and let's get into it.
Immigration
I have no problem with immigrants to this country. The US was built on immigrants who came here looking for a better life even if they had to steal it from the country's original people. Americans are too proud to do many essential jobs that immigrants are only too happy to do because their lives here, even on the lowest steps of the economic ladder, are much better than back in their homeland. Which says an awful lot.
However, they need to go through the proper channels, and I'm not allowing more than our present limit because of some humanitarian disaster on the other side of the planet. Sorry your country sucks, but moving all of you here isn't the answer.
On top of this sentiment, I refuse to let a single fucking immigrant in until
every homeless and starving person in this country has been housed and fed. It's a disgrace that we welcome displaced foreigners into our nation with such zeal while allowing disenfranchised veterans and citizens to fend for themselves in the street while we cut funding to their assistance programs every chance we get.
Vote for me and that bullshit ends instantly. The problem is ridiculously easy to solve for 90% of the cases involved. We have more than enough money, housing, manpower and food to eradicate it except for a small number of cases where the person in question prefers to live in the streets. We can't help 100% of these people, some don't want helped, but we could easily see to it that those who want shelter and a hot meal could have it.
What we lack in this situation is the
political will to fix it. We should be angrier in this nation about this problem than we are. Every time someone criticizes the Gubbamint for being too hard on immigration, it should instantly be on the forefront of their mind that we already have a
half a million citizen refugees wandering our streets and frequently in need of shelter, counseling, medication and treatment, security, food and human kindness.
I'm all for helping refugees, but not while we ignore our own. How is adding more people to a population that is already letting a half million of it's own people slip through the cracks a good idea?
A License to Breed
That's right. You need a license to do many things in the country: drive a car, own a dog or cat, sell hot dogs on street corners. But one of the most important things a human can be and one that potentially has greatest impact on the future of our society, is completely unregulated. You can do til your heart's content without even having to pass a test.
Having babies. As many as you want, any time you want, no prior experience or qualifications necessary.
Call me crazy, but I believe there is ample evidence out there today to suggest that this should be a privilege, not the right of any random moron that happens to possess a penis or a vagina and the will to use it. Turn on any news outlet you choose and eventually you'll see a story about some horrific thing perpetrated by a human who had no business bringing another person into this world, or the offspring of such a person committing some unspeakable deed.
There needs to be some kind of bar we can set for would-be parents. Even something simple such as a
questionnaire:
1) Do you and your breeding partner have the economic means to support a wee little babby and provide it with a safe stable environment?
2) Do these 'economic means' derive from criminal actions like stealing from other people or selling illegal narcotics?
3) Does giving your infant some valium seem reasonable when it just won't shut the fuck up?
4) Do you think it's OK to feed your child with the same spoon your cook your heroin in?
5) T or F? A minivan is a perfectly acceptable place to raise a toddler.
6) Among your peer group smoking crack is considered:
A) A lifestyle.
B) More of a hobby really.
C) Something you might do, but only on special occasions.
D) I haven't tried crack yet, but it's on my list.
7) T or F? Sex without birth control or preparedness was good enough for my parents and most of my ancestors, so it's good enough for me.
8) At what age is it OK for your child to get it's first neck tattoo?
9) How old would your offspring have to be in order for you to consider selling it into prostitution?
10) Why do you want to have children?
A) I don't but I hate pulling out.
B) I don't but he wouldn't pull out
C) Because my parents keep badgering me about it.
D) Children? Sex causes children?
People should have to pass a test. Show some positive qualifications and visible means of support. In my Administration, knowing the government will help you support your brat is not a qualifying measure. We're happy to step in when you falter, or life hands you some truly shitty cards, but
counting on having our support from Day One doesn't work for me. Use some judgement and planning, life won't always allow your gameplan a chance to succeed, but a little awareness of the enormity of being a parent goes a long way.
Endeavor to not let it catch you by surprise.
This leads neatly into:
Abortion Rights
This is a woman's choice and any laws seeking to complicate it or restrict it are Unconstitutional. It is merely a group of religious zealots imposing their belief system
through legislation, unto others which is unacceptable and also prohibited constitutionally.
That being said I would personally hope that the woman would choose to have to baby, perhaps giving it up for adoption, but that hope comes with a lot of caveats. Some of the more obvious ones include not wanting crackheads and junkies to procreate. The way I figure it is that every life that is never given the chance to proceed is the possibility of some astounding genius never gracing the human race.
On the other side of
that coin however is that every life terminated in the womb also ends the possibility of some sort of human monster brought up under unthinkable circumstances that will ultimately destroy all it touches.
And this rolls me smoothly into...
Religion
I fucking hate organized religions. I truly believe that a lot of them have done more harm to the human race than good, historically speaking. While that may or may not be true, and in fact isn't even
provable one way or another, it's what I believe. Religion has always been the world's most phenomenally successful form of mind control and that remains it's primary purpose to this day.
This harkens back to why I feel so strongly about the right to breed. As a parent it is in your job description to instill a
sense of right and wrong in your progeny. In a very broad sense, religion can be a decent baseline for a code of ethics. Most of the major religions agree that it's wrong to kill, rape, rob, cheat, steal, assault and otherwise be a
complete asshole, but
that's never stopped a sufficiently charismatic leader from convincing his followers that murder, rape and theft are
exactly what God wants.
Where the faiths start getting it messed up is when they add in all the other shit that goes against human nature, yet creates some handy guilt triggers for the organization to exploit.
Things like
not having premarital sex, lying, touching your naughty bits, coveting other people's stuff, eating certain animals, eating on certain days, praying daily, admitting stuff to religious authorities even though it's none of their damned business, attending church/temple/mosque/hut/rock/whatever at certain times.
Concerning the above sentence I'd like to point out, in a candid and full disclosure sort of way that I've had nothing BUT premarital sex because I've never been married. I lie often and with what I believe to be abounding sincerity. I frequently and with great enthusiasm touch my naughty bits and covet other people's stuff, sometimes at the same time. I also will eat the flesh of whatever animal I choose on whatever day I choose as long as this remains a viable choice for me. I haven't been to church for anything outside of a wedding or funeral since before I was old enough to drive. I've never done a Confession and wouldn't even know where to begin except to ask the priest if he'd brought lunch and a recliner.
It's all thought control in its most frighteningly efficient form. A system so staggeringly effective that people willingly
sign themselves up for it. You can be a perfectly good person just by having an adequate moral compass. A decent human being
knows in their heart what's OK, what's NOT OK and where the lines between the two are drawn.
So, in short, while I find religion to be a complete bucketful o' alligator spunk, I would never presume to ban it since religious freedom is one of the tenets of our society.*
3 I would however make my administration an environment where the prudent kept their beliefs to themselves and focused on what's right for the country at large, not what some self important, foaming-at-the-mouth idiot told them is what God wants based on a book written in ancient times by a bunch of primitive fucking screwheads.
Sheesh. Grow up already. Faith is not a prerequisite for being a good person.
Capitol Punishment
Listen, I'm not going to sugarcoat things, I respect the intelligence of my readers too much for that. The fact of the matter is that if I'm elected to power, then a huge amount of people are going to be executed. So if you're not OK with that, for the love of all that's holy,
don't vote for me.
Cuz I'm gonna go for the record.
There will be so many crimes punishable by death that it will actually be fairly difficult not commit one or more of them. I have a long fucking list...
Here are just a few of the things that could get you culled in StripperHerder's Amurrika:
1) Not being able to read by Grade Six. This will save the country an enormous amount of time and energy.
2) Reaching the age of 25 with no job history or higher education credits.
3) Being an Uber driver
4) Three felonies? Uh-oh....
5) Murder
6) Annoying me
7) Failure to properly use turn signals.
8) Knocking on people's doors to tell them about your religion.
9) Posting more than 20 memes a week on social media
10) Having more that 10 selfies on your phone at any given time.
So basically if you were to vote for me you have to take the bad with the good. I'm a moody prick but as long as you're not an asshole, kick back and enjoy the new and improved Amurrika!
And as far as my presidential platform goes, that's all I'm going to write about it in this installment because there's some other crap I wanted to throw down before I'm inevitably distracted by porn or poker or both at the same time, which can get frustrating on a number of levels.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
I've mentioned many times that Floor Guys are the whipping boys of the strip club industry. We just are. I've come to accept this fact over the years, unsurprised when I start at a new club that the story ultimately remains the same. It's easy to just scream at us since we have radios and are thus a captive audience.
I believe I may have also declared a time or two that being a stripper isn't a difficult job. It's not without its challenges of course, but intrinsically it boils down to:
-Be able to recognize your stage name when it is called.
-Be on time for your stage calls and, if applicable, to the correct stage.
-Check out with the DJ when you're ready to leave so he knows you're not in rotation anymore.
-Check out with the Counter before you leave and pay your dance fees.
-Be sober/lucid enough to accomplish these easy tasks.
That's about it fundamentally. There are of course many more layers to the turd cake, but just those easy things are really all that's
required of strippers at our club. Taking all the above points collectively I'd say on any given weekend night we achieve about a 12-18% success rate among our dancer corps. Strippers who are never late to stage, always on the correct stage and who go on to check out with both the DJ and the Counter at the end of the night are few and far between. And since there is virtually no discipline for doing poorly in these areas, there is little incentive for the tit-slingers to amend their ways.
The problem became so bad at one point that a Floor Guy doing a walk out had to radio in to the Counter to make sure the dancer had paid all her fees. And in one of those exceedingly rare circumstances where common sense becomes practice, we still do it to this day.
Now that I've set the stage, let me introduce the players:
ME: A humble Herder of strippers
SIR ANGST VON FROTHINSPITTLE VI: A Manager drunk on rage
PRINCESTIA: One of the most conceited strippers I've ever had the misfortune to work with. Owner's pet and willing to use that to get away with murder. She's twenty-one and knows
everything about how the world works, or, just as much a drop dead gorgeous twenty-one year old blond girl needs to know.
Which is virtually nothing outside of the fact that there is very little some men will NOT do for the chance to jab their penis into her.
I got stuck with walking out Princestia, who calls me "Shrek" by the way. I've asked her not to, told her I don't really care for it and even went as far as to suggest alternative things she could call me, such as "Bull" or "Big Show" or even "Hey you, Asshole". Been called all those by a lot of different people, don't mind it.
But she likes calling me "Shrek", it amuses her. It's not like I call her Snailclit or Trout Fishin' or anything, I've always been respectful because I've learned that you should never underestimate the power of a young, super hot dancer in a strip club ecosystem, especially one favored by the GodOwner. These young ladies can have a devastating effect on club precedence and protocol.
So long story short I call in and ask if Princestia has checked out with the Counter (who is supposed to make sure the dancer has checked out with the DJ before he will sign her out) and he says "Yeah, she's good to go."
Perhaps because I am a masochist I asked her if she had checked out with the DJ due to the fact that I'd already walked out a couple of other dancers who had failed to check out with him. Dancers who were being called to stage
two hours after they had left because the Counter wasn't doing his job. The following
red is a close approximation of the brief conversation Princestia and I shared, while the
blue represents the radio feed from Mgr. Frothinspittle blasting into my earpiece:
"Did you check out with Enrique?"
"No" she said. "I fucking hate Enrique the DJ, so I don't tip him out and I refuse to even talk to him."
"SHE DIDN'T CHECK OUT WITH THE DJ, TELL HER TO GET HER FUCKING ASS BACK IN HERE NOW!"
"Well you have to go back in a check out with him, Manager Angst says so."
"I'm not going back in. Fuck him. He never plays any of the songs I ask for."
"YOU TELL HER TO GET HER CUNT ASS BACK IN THIS CLUB! SERIOUSLY, DO YOUR FUCKING JOB! WHAT THE FUCK AM I PAYING YOUR FOR! GET HER BACK IN HERE, NOW!"
"Cmon, man. Just go back in and tell Angst you're leaving so he'll stop yelling at me."
"Nope. I'm leaving. Good ni-ight!"
And with that she hops in her car which was parked in a handicapped spot, and merrily drives away. I radio in and told it like it was: she said she wasn't coming back in, was clearly unconcerned by possible repercussions and drove the fuck away.
"See ya, Shrek! Eat a fat, leathery cock!"
And that was when I got
Frothinspittle'd.
Sir Angst came roaring out of the front doors, aglow with righteous fury. He immediately cast a 12th level
You're a Worthless Fuck spell at me and it was all I could do to maintain my shields. He stands there screaming, and when I say screaming folks, I mean SCREAMING at me. Death metal style. No concern for onlookers, collateral damage or unfortunates caught in the crossfire.
"WHY DO YOU SUCK AT YOUR JOB? WHAT THE HELL GOOD ARE YOU TO ME? IF YOU CAN'T DO YOUR JOB YOU MIGHT AS WELL GO HOME! I DON'T NEED FLOOR GUYS LIKE YOU! USELESS! WORTHLESS! FUCKPUDDLE OF VERMIN SEX FLUIDS AND URINE, ARGH!*
4
"You're worth......LESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
I got pissed at this point as you may well imagine. I yelled back "And what should I have done, Angst? Yoked her up and dragged her 110 lb ass back into the club like some loser trying to dodge his tab?"
"NO! I want you to do your fucking job! That's what I want you to fucking do!"
"And how was I supposed to accomplish that? Are you giving me permission to put my hands on a dancer who refuses to follow your orders? You gonna sanction that?"
This went back and forth for a bit but I'll save you the repetitive dialogue. Suffice to say I got him to admit that he wasn't giving me permission to go all hired goon on her, but other than that he had no helpful advice to give me on how to prevent a stripper from leaving the club without actually touching her.
I suppose the next time this situation occurs, I'll try to block her car with my body because that sounds like a fine idea and I am totally paid enough to take a Hyundai to the face. Or maybe I could leap on the hood of her car and only bail if she goes over 10 miles per hour. Probably won't hurt much.
I put on for my club.
Fuck me sideways, this is probably the longest installment I've ever written and I've just plain had enough of it. I hope you all enjoyed it with a liberal helping of salt and a heinous amount of alcohol. Never read this blog sober.
StripperHerder in 2016!
-The StripperHerder
*
1 If I'm in power, this blog will be required reading in every educational institution in the country.
*
2 The fiscal equivalent of bread and water.
*
3 Provided you worship God. You know, Jesus and Family.
*
4 I may have used a bit of artistic license with that last sentence, but everything else is spot on. Wasn't a fun time.
