Here is the original version of my article about the Clermont Lounge in Atlanta. The grainy picture above is of Stroker receiving his lap dance. The photo is grainy, but that’s perfect for the place and occasion (and to protect the innocent…and the guilty).
I was in Atlanta over the weekend, and I had just gone to the rehearsal dinner for my good friend Stroker Ace when someone said, “We gotta go to the Clermont Lounge.” Not being an Atlanta native, those words meant nothing to me, but mere minutes later, they would have devastating consequences.
It was a little after midnight when Stroker, myself, and about 15 people from the rehearsal party walked into the Clermont. It didn’t take long to be startled. A woman on stage who looked to be in her mid 50s (age) and her mid 250s (weight) dropped her French maid’s outfit to the ground and gyrated to the music, buck naked.
The Clermont Lounge is Atlanta’s longest operating strip club, opening in 1951, and most of the women on stage on this night look like they were doffing their nighties during the Grand Opening festivities. The smoke in the air is nothing short of stifling, and the floor is covered in what feels to be syrup. This place makes McGlinchey’s look like the Four Seasons.
As it was the night before his wedding, my good friend Stroker Ace was privy to a very special lap dance from a healthy young* lady named Blondie. Blondie, whose belly shook like jelly, pirouetted around Stroker then shook her ample bosom inches from his face. Her grand finale was nothing short of spectacular, as she crushed a beer can with her bottom, and deposited it in his coat pocket. The rotgut I had been drinking began doing laps in my stomach, and I stumbled out into the night air, trying to come to grips with what I had just witnessed. Five days have since passed. I still have not come to grips with it.
Here’s my column in today’s Metro. I think you’ll dig it. It’s about best business names in Philadelphia. Most of the best ones are always hair salons. One of my favorites that didn’t quite make the cut was Excuse ME Who Styled That Hair. Sassafrass! I also liked That Guy With the Hair, Smooth Like That, and Style of Man. Then you had your old standards Shear Perfection, Shear Genius, and Shear Pleasure. I also like Next Millenium Two Thousand, the barbershop that sounds like a robot. As for laundromats, the Washing Well was kind of cute. Oh, and D-Mac told me about a doozy, but it was out in Western PA. A day care center called Bring ‘Em Young. Brilliant. As for more terrible names? There is a bar called Castle Roxx in Manayunk. Sounds like a breakfast cereal. I also think Phlamboyant Phaces (hair salon) is kind of atrocious. Looking for more great business names? Click here. Now it’s your turn. What great local business names did I leave out of the article? Let me know in the comments.
Today’s column is about my bitterness towards Trivia Art, and how I am above shameless pandering. It was inspired when Art sent me an email telling me to eat a free cupcake above the fridge that he had gotten for free. I suddenly realized I was the person you give hand-me-down cupcakes to, which is a tough pill to swallow, even for “America’s Guest”. This column is very big of me, and an opportunity for you to appreciate how much integrity I have.
Instead of beer drinking babes in bikinis or cars racing around the autobahn, recession-era television advertising includes a lot more D-celebrities using high quality knives while yelling at us that we’ll get an even better deal if we order within the next 15 minutes. I think this is great news, because infomercials are so much more fun than regular commercials. The acting is brutal, the scripts are terrible, and the products seem highly dubious. Here are a few of my all-time favorites:
GLH-9…Hair in a Can! This is my favorite product anyone has ever invented ever, and that includes electricity. GLH-9 took men who were considerably bald and, with just a few quick sprays, had them looking like they were bald with black spray paint on their heads. Incredible!
Tom Vu Technique. This Vietnamese immigrant made millions using a simple real estate system. How do we know? Because he’s playing Backgammon on a yacht with several busty blondes. And only rich people play Backgammon.
The Juiceman Juicer. The Juiceman Jay Kordich wowed audiences with a machine that turned fruits into juices, and he was so high energy that one wondered if one of the fruits he juiced was that of the coca plant. That being said, this is the only infomercial product I actually own, and I’ll be honest, it’s one of my prized possessions.*
Probably the most talked about new infomercial has been the Snuggie. Needless to say, most blankets were made back when humans were four feet tall and had no desire to look like followers of an evil cult. But now with the Snuggie, the whole family can comfortably go to the big game looking like it’s only a matter of days before they sacrifice their first born son to the Hale Bopp comet.
The Flowbee. It sucks as it cuts! It was a haircutting attachment that hooked up to your vacuum, and then, presumably, sucked your hair right off your head. Sounds pleasant. Makes about as much sense as a toenail trimmer that attaches to your garbage disposal. Hey wait, that’s not a bad idea!
OK, so I think this is my funniest one in a while. It’s a write up about the old Christmas classic the Twelve Days of Christmas, and what ridiculous gifts people receive on those days. Special tip of the cap o Steve-O, who gave me the idea. But wait, was the song actually a code written by persecuted Catholics? Snopes investigates.
Here’s my latest in the Metro. It is about ways the city can raise funds to help pay off the debt. I have already received a letter from one angry Jerseyite named Joan, and am hoping to receive more. The letter read: Hey, Johnny Smartass. I’m a jerseyite that has been working in this city for almost 30 years which
means that I have more than supported this city’s economy along with every other Philadelphia employed person from Jersey, by paying that inflated city wage tax. Oh, my Hummer which is disguised as a 10 year old Taurus station wagon is parked at the Speedline so I don’t have to pay the $4 bridge toll, which you mistakenly stated as $3. However, I would be happy to send you the $1 difference because that’s about as much as your opinion is worth. Have a nice Day.
She brings up a good point: we also need to charge Jerseyites extra when they get off the train.