Blog: Don't Believe the Lies +Socialistic Strip Clubs and Socratic Irony

"Henry Ford:
“It is well enough that people of the nation do not understand our banking and monetary system, for if they did, I believe there would be a revolution before tomorrow morning.” 

-----Read more HERE----

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NOTE:  Geez - I wonder why Henry Ford said that?  

I am not a socialist or a religious person.  But that doesn't mean that I shouldn't read the thoughts of those who are.  In fact - perhaps I can benefit most by reading such things that I think I don't agree with.  Why?

So many times - when I thought I understood something - and was challenged by a person conversant on that topic - I discovered that I had either no knowledge of the position held by those supporting said cause - or incorrect information regarding.

So why not take a look at something I think or "know" I don't agree with?  Why not listen to what this person has to say - their perspective - their point of view - the reasons they think they "have the answers?"  Why not?  Unless one listens to the "enemy" - the "opposition" - etc... (insert propagandistic label here) - there is absolutely positively no opportunity to find points of common agreement - the very seeds of negotiated win-win "deals."

That said - here's my argument for free-marketism > socialism.  Not something to be proud of but I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't write it out loud: and by the way - if you are a feminist - easily insulted - or someone who still thinks I'm an Angel - I suggest you stop reading right now.

Please excuse my mis-spent youth - excess testosterone - "bad influence" (fun) friends - immoral, unethical and sometimes scum-of-the-earth-supporting past - but what the hell - I don't have a better argument against socialism than the following - and I don't even know if it's a good one- accurate - or anything - but it's something my buddy Thom and I (he loved "titty bars") would discuss while having beers - smoking cigarettes and watching the chicks dance on a stage at bar-level. My formative years were spent with a disproportionate number of military veterans - mostly US Navy - sometimes a brutal and crude bunch - sometimes exhibiting surprising critical thinking skills, loyalty - honor - decency - and an addiction to titty bars.  Our conclusion was that ....well we'll get to that... Here's the deal:

Given:  There are two titty-bars (this is a general-purpose term for "strip club") on the same street - sharing the same parking lot -  competing for the same pool of depraved customers socio-economically speaking.  We will call them TbarA and TbarB.

Before I get into the theory - for those of you that were not corrupted as was I from "hanging around with the wrong (fun) crowd" - let me explain how titty-bars work.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon - somehow you've escaped from work - and - gambling that your pager won't go off (nineties - cel phones were for the call-back and to talk to the customer) - you and the guys that crossed paths somehow decided to go to ...let's say the 1000 Club.  The 1000 Club is essentially a sign and a door - the windows are covered - and it is one of the retail spaces in a strip mall in intersection-ville in Northern Virginia.

You grab the black-tinted glass-aluminum-frame-door handle - and walk in - slowly - since it is sunny and 98 degrees outside - and inside it is pitch black and air-conditioned - and you can't see until your eyes adjust.  

Yes - there are people in this place.  Smoke-filled.  All ages of men - some central and South Americans, some illegal (I know 'cause I talked to them and they told me their stories) - some girls who came in with their boyfriends. 

OK - where to sit?  Anywhere.  Get a beer.  Bum a smoke if you aren't a real smoker - and wait for the rest of the guys to show up.

Let's see - who's dancing?  This is the fun part - and the part that gets to the point of this ramble.  Who?  "Who" has nothing to do with it.  All that counts is beauty - a relative term for sure - but - generally speaking not that relative.  After all - guys and gals alike all know when they are looking at a beautiful woman - I mean a really beautiful woman - physically beautiful - and then there is a hierarchy.  For example - there were some chicks that I couldn't stand to look at - but some guys I knew just thought they were great.  Then there were some girls that no one would deny were amazing - and they were the ones that made the most money - because - the only way to get the dancer over to your end of the bar so you could see them was to put money on the counter and then they would come over - dance a bit - then take it.  The best looking ones got the most tips.  There were even guys that knew which nights certain girls danced and they would visit on those nights to see their favorite.

Ok - what's the point of all this?  

Tbar A is based on the free-market system - if the audience likee - you make money.  If no likee - you can't earn a living and you either get a new job or starve.  Either way - The bar always has the best looking dancers available and the filthy depraved customers come back to buy more $10 dollar beers.

Tbar B is based on a socialistic system - where they rotate dance-time to a large pool of women - giving each equal time - and sharing the tips amongst them at the end of the night - that is - after the bar owner takes most of the cash and profit from beer sales.  All women are paid - no tips accepted - and they all can come back to work every day to earn their share of - nothing - because all the best-looking (as determined by the customers) dancers are dancing at Tbar A because that's where they make the most money - from tips.

Eventually there is only on Tbar - TbarA - and you'd have to see some of the dancers - and I know how cruel and rotten this is for me to say - well - I'm gonna' end this here.

Anyway - the linked blog has nothing to do with anything I've said here.  I also have no idea how I ended up on this topic.  I now live far far away from such places - haven't been to one in prolly a decade - but you never know when your gonna' run into your old friends.