In 1968, Andy Warhol commented on the Cult of Celebrity. "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes," he opined. In this era of reality TV and the Internet Celebrity, we all know how frighteningly accurate this statement has become. And yet these psuedo-celebs continue to overstay their welcome. Do I really care about the trials and tribulations of Spencer and Lauren? Should William Hung have been offered the chance to make a single record, let alone THREE? In my best Jerry Seinfeld voice, "What is WITH these people?"
And yet these once-infamous "celebs" carry on. Now what does this have to do with Tattletales? Nothing. And everything. For as those who prefer their crews spelled "Crue" and perhaps with an additional dash of Motley, they know the significance of Tattletales. For indeed, it was they who first suggested that, should one seek "Girls, girls, girls," you could perhaps be "rockin' in Atlanta in Tattletales." Now I should not be the one to question the sage wisdom of Nikki Sixx, and in their defense, they made no truly subjective judgments on the quality of the aforementioned girls, girls, girls. All Mr. Neil requested was a dance and perhaps be told a story. The relationship between said dancer and Mr. Neil is such that she already knows which one to tell. This leads me to assume that maybe a more apt title for the song is "Girl, Girl, Girl" which would be more fitting as our trip to Tattletale's revealed one single attractive female (what could be referred to possibly as a "girl") while the rest....well, if Motley Crue were to change the song's title from "Girls, Girls, Girls" to "Girl, Woman in her late 30s Trying to Pass as 23, and I Think That's a Man" its accuracy would not be questioned. And yet Tattletale's continues to exist almost solely on the notoriety gained from being mentioned in a Motely Crue song, albeit one of the most famous stripper songs ever produced.
Let me rewind. With my nuptials pending, my groomsmen requested a night of more "naked" entertainment. Not having been to a strip club in quite a while and with my groomsmen being scattered across the country, the burden fell upon me and fellow Yelper James H. to scout locations. Being familiar with The Pony, I felt a change of venue was in order.
I was mistaken.
The night started with a valet. To their credit, the valet is "complimentary," even though requiring a valet in their small lot is the parking equivalent of needing a bathroom attendant to hand you a paper towel. The cover was $10. Upon entry all joy and respect for life immediately exited our bodies. Look, I'm all for a stripperful of paternal resentment, but when you can actually make out where on the doll the dancers may have been touched, then you begin to ask yourself "If God is truly omnibenevolent then why does He let bad things happen?" and then you question your own role in the universe and, really, a strip club is the LAST place you want to get existential.
Sigh.
And so, I present to you a series of Tweets via twitter sent to the internet in real-time:
"James n I are here trying to stay long enuff to not look gay when we finally leave." 11:53 PM from mobile web
"Cause we want to. this place is a sadness factory." 11:55 PM from mobile web
"I'd say these strippers were on meth, but if that were true they'd be skinnier" 11:57 PM from mobile web
"i think the girl who just left the main stage just entered her 2nd trimester." 12:02 AM from mobile web
"Really? Clear heels after Labor Day?" 12:05 AM from mobile web
"we should go soon. Before i'm forced to fight Master Blaster." 12:06 AM from mobile web
And so, there you go. Mean? Most likely, but I think if you're dancing at Tattletale's, the assault on your self-esteem a Yelp review represents is fairly negligible. Indeed, you've got bigger issues than having me refer to you as The Clermont's Farm Team.
So, one star for the Motley Crue reference. And one star for that shooter girl. Minus three stars for everything else. Now excuse me while I take about 9 showers in a row. read more