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Changes Loom On The Horizon For 2018. Or, Regional Management Came In And Served Up Some ThunderDick.


  So as will become very obvious when one starts reading this, this is a FrankenPost™. A mad, stitched together installment made from various pieces parts I had laying around. There's a lot going on in my life right now and I haven't made much time for writing and I will explain why below.


  To make this post a bit more clear for those unused to my rambling style, I'll post each chunk that I wrote at various times in a different color font. That seems pretty straight forward, so let's begin, shall we?






  Season's greetings dear readers, as some of my more astute followers may have noticed, I've been thinning the ranks of my posts lately and a smaller percentage of those same astute followers may be wondering why.


  Well, I've been talking about this for some time and now I'm getting ready to make the transition to a new host site. One where folks can subscribe for access to exclusive content mostly, but one with a lot of other features that Blogger just doesn't offer.


  This way a reader can choose their own level of participation with the Plight. Full subscribers will have access to all of my archives, which I've traditionally left publicly available. But as I said, the times they are a movin on and a wily 'Herder moves with them.



  More details on that as they emerge...



*Future me here, the more sharp eyed reader might have noticed that there are indeed no posts whatsoever any more, outside of this one. And to that I would say, you are correct. Nicely spotted.
Get used to it because I'm busy right now. Go read Dark Lord's Journal.




  The other potentially much larger change is a possible relocation. I have a standing job offer from a former co-worker but there are a few problems with this prospect. And to explain them I'm going to a tried and true StripperHerder favorite, The List.


Pros:

1) I feel a bit stagnant in my present situation, therefore a change of venue and locale could do me a world of good.


2) I'd be earning more more money if I move.


3) I suppose I should list 'better weather' here because the new place would be south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but I like my extreme northern weather. I find it soothing.


4) I'd be a lot closer to several friends living down that way.







Cons:


1) It would be south of the Mason Dixon Line. A long haul away from family and friends.



2) It's gonna be too damned hot.


3) I HATE moving. SO much fucking work.


4) I'd still be in the dancer wrangling business.


5) I'd be the low man on the totem pole again, subject to all the crappy shifts and miserable jobs a new place can offer.





  Still, I'm considering it. I've been thinking a lot lately about opportunities not taken, roads not traveled, flowers left unsmelled etc etc.


  Possibly the time has come to shake things up a bit. We'll see what happens.





  So, as it turns out, I am moving. I've decided to accept dude's job offer and am going down South in late February/early March to look for a place to live and meet with the new club's management. Fuck it. Can't be any worse and supposedly their guys make more dough than we do up here.


  Good enough for me.


  I'm anxious about this as I generally don't like change and upheaval in my life, but I look at it this way-I barely ever see my friends when I live a half hour away from them, 12 more hours of distance isn't, on the whole, gonna make that much of a difference.


  So I'm starting the hated process of thinning out my possessions and boxing stuff up, and going about it really slowly because it's wretched work. I figure that if I can do even one box per day that by time I'm ready to hit the road, it should all be done.



  Guess I'm just ready for a change. Part of this can be blamed on the New Year's Day Massacre, which you will now read about below and in a more exciting color font. 





                THE NEW YEAR'S DAY MASSACRE


  To be accurate, this happened the day after New Year's Day, but it sounds nice as a subtitle so I went with it.


  Luckily I was off that day which may have contributed to me escaping the wrath of the Higher Powers. But, according to legend, what happened was....



  The Regional Manager came in and dropped four metric fucktons of ThunderDick all over the club. All told seven people lost their lives jobs: One Manager, two Bartenders, two Floor Hosts, a Doorgirl and a Latetress. He went apeshit, but in that unflappably calm way of British villains. Very polite and measured as opposed to frothing at the mouth and throwing chairs around, maybe choking a bitch or two.


  He cleaned fucking house to use the vernacular. Among the casualties were:



Sir Mastadonald Le'Phant V: mismanager extraordinaire, who I'm sure I've called many other names in this blog, but can't be bothered to look any of them up and my research assistant is in rehab at the moment. So, you know...


Ivana Poutvainly: Russian drink-makey thing and world class elitist. Bye bitch.


Ima Wendy: Latetress and a fucking terrible one at that. I won't miss the sight of her little brow wrinkling all up as I watched someone try to explain the simplest concepts to her. Sometimes her head even tilted to the side like a baffled terrier.


Stanford MecPhearson Stumpley: Floor Host, former. One credit card scam too many, Stan. Wish ya well, buddy.




  In my many years in the titty bar trade, I've never seen anything like it. They sent in the cleaners.


  Bout fucking time.





 
SO people, that's probably gonna be it for a bit although this is by no means done. When I figure out a whole bunch of stuff on the new host site, I'll post a link here and welcome you to the new Blog home.


  I don't really have a timetable right now for the actual move, won't know that until I've gone down and talked to their Elders. What I can tell you is that I probably won't get the new site up and running before I move because I am lazy. So read what you get and check out Dark Lord's Journal if you haven't already.


  See ya when I see ya,
-Das StrippeinHerdolf