Random Meanderings Ad Infinum And Beyond

I have (I am most certain) posted other entries on this blog over the course of it’s life entitled “Random Meanderings.” In fact, the blog itself used to bear that very name.

It was one of the more basic titles (and likely the most accurate) that it has had over the 7 years it’s been alive.

I posted the following status message on BaceFook:

I have often wondered if strippers actually like when guys ‘make it rain’ with the dollar bills. Or are they like, “jeesh. thanks asshole. There’s something else I have to clean up.”

I don’t necessarily feel that post needs any clarification. However, it amused me to see the conclusion people jumped to (whether in truth or truth hidden in the barb).

Fact is…I was not at a strip club when I came up with that post. Haven’t been to one in easily 15 years. Have I been to Gentlemen’s Clubs? No. I’ve been to strip clubs. Two, actually. Working class dives, not teh touristy out of towner types. If you look closely enough, you might see the moisture where she tried to get the last of the cocaine. Was I regular? No. I went 3 times. I had a friend at the time who’s father owned a club. We got in for free. He drank for free. I didn’t. I was enamored by the concept the first time.  The second time I was cautious (never EVER enter a drinking contest with a stripper. They drink for free. And they will drink your ass under the table. True story). The final time I stopped looking at the women and instead looked at the men looking at the women. And realized that although the glass was more mental than anything, it was still a menagerie. I haven’t been back to a strip club since. The same desolation can be found on countless internet web sites, if that’s your thing. And the alcohol is a damn site cheaper.

The thing that prompted my little post was an order for Jimmy John’s that I had placed. I had a stack of single dollar bills and was counting out the amount I would need for the order in mostly ones. Something in the male psyche equates a stack of singles with a strip club in men over a certain age (namely about a month past puberty). So…my mind went to that comment. And the thought of “making it rain” (which is showering the dancer/show girl/stripper in the bills, as though you are making it rain money on them). And I got to thinking…how fucking rude. Seriously. I don’t imagine it’s an easy job per se. It’s bad enough at a restaurant to leave the tip where your drink was all sweaty on the table. I can’t imagine how much worse it is at a strip club. And to have the money thrown at them…like…’here, you pick this up if you want it so badly.’  It’s rude. I’m guessing that the dancers have more pity for the clients than the other way around. At least when the dancers clock out, they know it was just a job.

So…yeah. that’s where that came from. A modern commentary on the ‘thought experiments’ of old. What? You didn’t think Schrodinger actually had a cat in a box with poison gas pellet, did you? No. Of course not.  That’s the beauty of the mind. An infinite number of scenarios can be played out.  And what’s even funnier is, that by posting some of the shit that people post in social media, the thought takes on a life of its own.   Some will silently judge me for my post about strippers. Some will put it right out there. And even more still just won’t give two shits because That Todd usually says some random shit anyway. He’s mostly harmless.

And that’s mostly true. Like the planet earth in HHGTTG, I am mostly harmless 🙂

Alright. I’m done meandering…for now. Got a couple books to read and a few more to write (not tonight…but some writing will get done tonight).

Have an awesomesauce day, my friends. I will talk to you all tomorrow!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s