Well, this story starts out like most Hub-Bub
stories. It was a Sunday night and my girlfriend
Shannon and her best friend and I were spending time
at Frank-n-Stein's getting drunk and shooting pool.
It was a normal night at steins, all the local punk
rawk kids were there. Jeff was walking around
filming things that went on. Derrick and I fucked
around a little bit 'til my shoe somehow ended up
flying across the bar. Peck was being his sociable
self walking around talking as Action-man and Pat
Day sat at the bar with Nate and Bart.
Anyhow, the night went on and the beer flow
increased. I was shooting pool with Derrick when
this REDNECK LOOKING BIKER GUY walked in and sat
down across the pool table that Shannon and Chris
were playing on. I didn't pay much attention to the
guy cause I thought he was there with his
girlfriend. Well, I happened to look over at this
redneck and he was talking to my girlfriend. I went
over afterwards to see if she was okay. She said
"yeah, he gave me money for the jukebox." I didn't
think anything of it. She went and played some
tunes, I think one of them was Social Distortion's
'ball and chain'( no David Allen Coe this time
fella's). Well, Derrick and I were kicking some ass
at pool and Chris and Shannon were playing the
redneck and his girlfriend.
An hour or so had passed by and the redneck was
calling it quits but before he was to go, he thought
he would buy Shannon a beer. That didn't bother me
at all, it was what happened soon after. Right
before he leaves he stopped to talk to Shannon
again. This time he hands her what looked like a
normal business card and carries on a conversation
with her for a few minutes. Shannon then walked up
to me and handed me the card. "Look" she said. I
read the first few words "Exotic Dancing". I was
filled with rage!
I read on a little more, it read something along the
lines of "exotic arousing private dancing and escort
service. I tore the fucking card up before I could
read the name of the place!
I was fucking pissed to no end. I turned around to
find the guy cause I was about to kick in his
fucking skull (or at least try to). Shannon grabbed
a hold of me and told me no. She was pissed too but
thought that it would be better to just blow it off.
By the time I talked it out with Shannon, that
fucker was gone. She then told me his name, John. So
listen up Johnny-Boy, you redneck, pole dancing,
piece of shit. I don't give a fuck what you do in
your own time, but if you want to find girls to
dance for you at your establishment, don't go
looking for them. Put an ad out or something. Don't
go playing Mr. nice guy buying girls drinks and then
ask them if they wanna dance.
Listen, I like women just as much as the next guy,
but I find exotic dancing degrading to women. Women
are NOT sex objects. They are not here to get us
beer and fuck us at the snap of our fingers.
Yeah, I have something for you too Teen magazine,
Seventeen, MTV Fashion, and VH1 Fashion; You all can
fucking die! I am sick of you brainwashing women
that they all have to look like supermodels. You
women that spend your whole life trying to look good
and keep up with fashion defeat the whole point of
the Women's Rights Movement. You are fucking
worthless to the whole world if all you do is sit
around and worry about how you look.
I have ranted long enough so I will end this up with
this. Johnny, you inbred, pole dancing piece of
shit, I'll have a few words with you at a later
time. As for the corporate fashion fucks, one day
the world will wake up and tell you to piss off
(well, at least in my world). Take care of
yourselves and the scene. OI, OI, Oi! --TJ