In honor of Roger Stone’s new gig

I thought I’d told you about this, but apparently haven’t. Therefore…

Did you hear that Roger Stone — purportedly because he needs money for his legal defense — has had himself booked into strip clubs? Well, one strip club, anyway. In Florida, where he lives.

It’s real. I saw the ad. Now, I don’t believe he’s stripping — which would be an outstanding obstacle to attending. I think he’s maybe talking. Lecturing. Although that, too, would be an obstacle to attending.

In any case, here’s a little something from Don Winslow’s terrific novel-cum-surfing-manual, The Dawn Patrol:

Strip clubs are interesting for about five minutes. After that, they’re about as erotic as wallpaper. Besides which, the music is terrible and the food is worse. You’d have to be basically mentally ill to eat in a strip club anyway, “naked asses” and “buffet line” being two phrases that should never, ever, be matched in the same sentence. Guys who are coming off a prison hunger strike won’t eat at a strip club unless they’re actually brain-damaged.

P.S. With apologies to Stormy Daniels.

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