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Friday, September 19, 2003


Action Alert

My silence on the issue has been deafening.

Maybe I hoped that by ignoring it, it would just go away. But just like with unexplained rashes, pretending nothing's wrong doesn't abate the horrible itching in the slightest.

The very fabric of polite West Coast society is being threatened by Los Angeles's ban on lap dances. Under the ban, VIP rooms are prohibited and dancers must remain at least six feet away from gentlemen's club patrons, thereby making the common practice of tipping by placing money in a g-string or garter impossible for all except for a handful of NBA centers and people with extreme thyroid disorders.

That sound you hear is that of George Washington spinning so fast in his grave that his wooden teeth are lodged in the walls of his coffin.

Has anyone called the ACLU yet? It seems that the LA City Council is forgetting the sly wording of the Section 5 of the 23rd Amendment to the United States Constitution, which explicitly states that a citizen's "right to have the lap area of the lower torso grinded upon by a member of the female gender shall not be abridged by the legislature or any other elected representative of the people." If the law were any clearer, it would practically mandate the withholding of a fistful of crisp singles from each working man's paycheck that must be redeemed at the local nudie bar each week.

If we can chuck a legitimately elected governor out of office midterm so that we can replace him with a marble-mouthed, Nazi-sympathizing, shriveled-scrotumed ESL dropout, surely we can mobilize the people to save the livelihoods of empowered young women just trying to work their way through school to better the lives of their bastard children.

It's time we march, people, stripping off our pasties and bikini tops and demonstrating our solidarity with our friends from the champagne room. The City Council won't know what hit it, left with only an irresistible desire to overturn the ban and a sudden, unexplained tightness in their BVDs.

Our time has come. See you on the steps of City Hall. I'll be the one in the sexy lifeguard outfit, ready to save those drowning in a sea of righteous silicone with a well-tossed life preserver.

God bless America.


About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
If You Like Bunsen, Then You'll Love Bunsen