Many people don't realize that Strippers, like many humans, have their own religions. The industry has been around for so long that is has evolved many different belief systems and dogmas all based loosely around booze, breasts, delusions, sex, drugs and R&B. These faiths sport an impressive pantheon of deities, mostly Goddesses of course, whom strippers pray to and honor in a myriad of unwholesome ways.
It's sad that if you leave any group of humans alone long enough, they will inevitably contract religion. It seems to be some sort of flaw in our genetic programming. We, as a species, fucking love religion even though it's sole purpose is to make us less happy. Doesn't make sense, but then again, neither do we.
So without further philosophomification, let's take a look at the Gods and Goddesses of the strip club industry, shall we?
All righty then...
Stripper Goddesses
Prada: A former death-cult Goddess who, in the origin tales, fearlessly slew her enemies and took the best of their stuff as her own. She has evolved with the times and is currently worshiped as the Goddess of: vapidness, envy, short winters, luxury cars over six years old, menstrual predictability and snobbishness.*1
Patronia: A Dionysian figure that in recent times has reached a new level of ascendancy. She is acknowledged to be the Goddess of: chilled shots, surviving car accidents, limes, chinchillas and other small, cute furry critters, locker room fights, stealing other bitches shit, unplanned pregnancies and causing car accidents.
Slothia: Recognized by nearly every Stripper Religion as a major Deity, Slothia is perhaps the most widely venerated Goddess in all the varied crazy Dancer Creeds. Everyone loves Slothia because She demands virtually nothing but gives so much back to Her loyal followers with virtually no effort expended by either side. She is the definition of a win-win Goddess.
In addition to being the Goddess of Slack, Slothia is also recognized as the Goddess of: ambitious projects, failed diets, video gaming, food delivery drivers, documentaries and sun tea.
Many strippers love Slothia because she forbids getting up before 3 PM, working more that 15 hours a week or expending physical effort for more that 3 minutes at a time.
Mammaroth: Evil Titty Goddess from beyond the dawna-time. This fearsome Deity is popular among the plastic booby crowd.*3 While it's not mandatory for a girl to worship Mammaroth after she gets fake tits, it's pretty fucking likely going to happen. Mammaroth causes a reckless desire in Her devotees to get larger and larger breast implants until one of the following happens:
A) They abruptly snap in half, sometimes causing collateral damage as their flying vertebrae become shrapnel to those around them.
B) The skin of their face becomes so distorted by their wildly oversized mams that they frighten children.
C) Their feet become rife with fungal infections because they never see direct sunlight anymore.
D) They can no longer shave their own external genitalia or legs unassisted.
Mammaroth is also the Goddess of: Inappropriate lactation, poor balance, holistic back pain remedies, wheelbarrows and stretchy T-shirts.
Avaricia: The funny thing about Avaricia is that she used to be the Roman Goddess of Conquest a couple of millennia ago. Normally she would have fallen into obscurity long ago like so many of her Roman contemporaries, but She was clever. She saw that some Dancers made a lot of money and that they liked to spend it on unnecessary yet expensive crap. So she saw a niche Goddessing job opportunity and rather than fade into oblivion along with the fortunes of the Roman Empire, she became the Goddess of Greed for hot chicks.
Not a bad gig apparently and she didn't have to oversee the subjugation of cultures anymore, she merely has to be there for overpaid ass jigglers who have decided that money is the single most important thing in life; trumping dignity, morals and pride by a country mile.
And yet...
Dancers aren't the only inhabitants of a strip club with their own religions and their own Deities. Studies seem to indicate that at anywhere between six months to two years in the service industry, depending on the subject, all feelings of empathy, compassion and goodwill are corrupted or erased, thus leading the unfortunate fooker to seek out a higher power within their vocation.
All hope for a better tomorrow is beaten right the fuck outta you by booze and your fellow species who are drinking it.
So it's only logical given the frail nature of mankind's psyche that other sectors of the titty bar have latched onto their own very specialized Gods. Here are some examples:
DJ Gods
Din: A once minor God of noises and orators that no one cares about, Din has seen his followers soar with the advent of cheap, affordable portable music players. DJ's worship Din because they are part of Him, they truly believe that their amplified voices reflect Him in all His cacophonous glory when in truth most of the masses do not acknowledge Din or His teachings and therefore don't hear a goddamn thing a strip club DJ says.
It is said that Din created dubstep when he accidentally ejaculated into his fax machine. I believe this because to me, dubstep sounds like machines cumming on each other with reckless abandon.
Tintamarre: God of racket, loud annoying sounds and people hawking shit in a forum where no one is paying attention. DJ's love Tintamarre because he rewards volume for volume's sake. Just be loud. Mumble shit if you want as long as it is deafening and mostly unimportant.
Also God of: repetitive announcements, dumb stripper names, lies, lost cell phones and oddly enough, microwavable dinners.
Floor Guy Gods
(It should be understood before we go any further that Floor Guys worship two distinct Pantheons of Gods, not unlike the Norse did with the Aesir and the Vanir, but with way less cool Gods. These deities are divided between the Host and the Bouncer)
Vinny: (Host) Represents the epitome of oily, welcoming dudeness. He can make your dreams come true (with a proper gratuity) and your fantasies come to life (fat tip mandatory). Vinny possesses a preternatural instinct for where the money hides and has an extensive toolkit for extracting it from it's owner; sometimes even doing it legally!
Floor guys who aren't normally called on to be bouncers worship Vinny to gain the God's favor, manifested most commonly by a customer signing a credit card slip without filling it out first. This is a sure sign of Vinny's benevolence as He prides himself on answering 1700% more prayers than Jesus.
Crudge: (Bouncer) A primitive proto-god to mankind that understands nothing but killing, hitting other creatures with its club and stomping on downed opponents til they squish or stop moving. Crudge revels in maiming and dancing all the dances of disfigurement that His reptilian brain can come up with when faced with rude cunt-mouths.
His role has specialized over time however, his urge to violence channeled and directed into a reservoir of on-demand cruelty. He has only been bested one time throughout history, and that was by Loy-Yor, the single greatest enemy of Bouncers everywhere, throughout time.
Crudge is also the God of: rocks glasses (any bar's deadliest drinking vessel), stained pavement, blunt instruments, instant retribution, pre-taliation*4, steel toed boots and racist-euro-epic-stoner-black-metal.
Hannibal: (Host) History's most famous Floor Host. Hannibal was the ultimate Host at the most popular strip club outside the Roman Empire, a place called Jezebel's Cabaret which was located in Carthage (modern day Tunisia). His power and influence were so great in his pussy-infested domain that a young, impressionable foot soldier named Private First Class Barca decided later in his career to restyle himself as 'Hannibal' as he went on to whup most of Italy's ass.
Hannibal has long since been venerated as a God by the Bouncer branch of Floor Guy faith, while in the Host denomination he's merely a Hero, or Saint-like figure that's remembered and exalted on occasions where a seemingly indestructible Problem Dancer is finally fired and driven from the premises by hordes of commoners wielding bundles of birch branches.
Whichever incarnation of Hannibal a Floor Guy acknowledges, it is agreed that His realm of influence also includes: earning potential, calculated risks, top shelf strumpets, giant SUV's, elephant porn and unrestricted credit cards.
Manager Gods
Managers have no Gods outside of their Owners. They worship no Gods known to mortal man, only forbidden entities well endowed in the tentacle and soul digesting department. Deities so bleak and inhuman that to even utter their names is to court a sexual harassment lawsuit or something even fouler....
This is not a subject I feel comfortable exploring further. Never ask about it, it will only lead to grief.
Waitressy Worshippy Thingys
(I have to be honest with you, gentle reader. I have completely fabricated all of the following Waitress Worshippy Thingys because I could find no historical record nor modern trace of any religion focused on delivering things to tables, but felt that there should be some. Just because the average waitress hasn't developed the imagination to invent Gods in the last 5,000 years or so doesn't mean that we, as blog-using humans, shouldn't be able to enjoy reading about them regardless of their dubious authenticity.)
Whirshmy Tibble: Sort of like a fairy Godmother for waitresses. If you can't remember where a table was that you took an order from, you run outside, locate North and whisper five times "Whirshmy Tibble?" Then when you go back inside, if you've been properly neglectful and absentminded in your devotions, Whirshmy may reward you by having a table of people frantically wave at you, thus solving the riddle of the missing table.
Like a pagan Nancy Drew.
Hagatha Tipwell-McCuntrage: Some servers believe that they should be tipped a maximum amount of money for performing a minimum amount of their waitressly duties. They've been led to believe that a 20% tip is merely a suggested retail minimum and that what every patron actually meant to put down was a 40% tip.
They just needed help with the math.
Hagatha was a frontier tavern keeper in the lawless wilds of 15th century coastal Ireland. She was hard as coffin nails and just slightly less yielding than a fucking stone wall. She's been venerated by the Reformed Drink-Mule Adventists as a Greater Goddess, based solely on her ability to manipulate tabs so that everyone gets fucked but Her.
I feel like I've done my duty here. Luckily for me, abrupt endings have become so common with the Plight that somehow it's been misinterpreted as part of 'my style', an appellation I still rail against to this day.
Et Tuddles Sine Nistrae,
-The StripperHerder
*1 The Pradian Schism of 1953 split the Church of Prada into two separate entities who now despise each other: The Orthodox Pradian Church, and the slightly less snooty Universal Pradian Friendship Congregation.**
** The schism occurred over the interpretation of whether or not it was OK to kill a bitch for her purse.
*2 After a certain amount of time in the service industry, many folks consider a full day where they don't have to see or speak to another human being to be a wonderful fucking thing. These sort of people will frequently make a small offering of nothing to Slothia, who would be pleased with their offering if She could be bothered to get off the metaphorical couch to receive it.
*3 The Balloon Brigade, The Silicone Squad, The Saline Society, The SNS (Stretched Nipple Sisterhood)**
** These are some irritable bitches.
*4 Pre-taliation©: Hitting an asshole before he ends up hitting you. Crudge will tell the devout when this is going to happen and let them make up their own minds.**
**Strict Crudgists aren't renowned for their great thinking skills.
