You’re no Fat Joe.


Making it Rain:


1. In strip clubs, it is when you throw stacks of money all over women.


2. When a man ejaculates all over a woman.

One of these is more degrading to a woman but on the surface it’s not as simple a decision as one might think. Not that I’m the advocate for women’s rights. I’m an advocate for all sorts of rights which have very little to do with how many vulvas you own. That said, I’m an advocate for a woman’s right to swim, the watch The Shining, and to put her hands wherever she pleases. Especially in or around my modal nodes. I don’t actually speak for women here, but rather what I find degrading. Women don’t need me. I just slow them down. But since I don’t find many things degrading this is something I felt compelled to type about. I also find it degrading when I make a copy of a cassette onto another cassette, especially that old copy of ZZ Top’s Afterburner. Why did the letters always rub off the clear cassettes?

Don’t get me wrong. I have it on good authority a few volleys of sperm on a lady’s face, ass, and back is akin to fresh pancakes while sitting on the porch swing as the sun rises over the ocean to a select percentage of the gender. I can sympathize. Who wouldn’t want to rinse liquid horrible from parts of their body they can’t even see?

But for some reason I find it even more lame and shortsighted to to perform the act of tossing money onto a writhing woman in the same manner as men of style and means such as Fat Joe, rhyme technician and a pioneer in the act of Making it Rain. He is of a lifestyle where that is a part of the game, as are his contemporaries. I envy him and one day plan to be of enough statue [no height jokes, please] and resources to be able to pull out a meaningless stack of $100 bills and shower them over the poop deck of a woman who has both the ability and wherewithal to shake ‘dat ass.

Yeah, this is another of those blogs where the divisive world of exotic dancers is discussed. The business which brings out the most venomous and sometimes ignorant bits of conversation from our usually articulate readership.

My buddy Dave got a lot of shit for his quick missive about pole dancers, but that’s more people are very narrow-minded and quick to judge on such matters. Shame on you. Especially if I soon go into that business soon. And I just might.

But the whole “Making it Rain” business chafed me not because Fat Joe did it or because I can’t fathom a situation where a woman covered in my juice is even remotely sexy. It’s from the guys who aren’t Fat Joe but rather freshmen at Georgia Tech who think that by acting aloof and tossing what looks fancy but is actual seven dollars onto a woman (your personal opinion of strippers be damned) is simply the epitome of cool. A few recent instances of such:

1. A young man, I believe of Indian descent, skinny as hell with spiky hair and dressed like it was steak night at the frat house saunters up, takes one of my napkins without nary a peep, wipes his hands and walks up to a stage where he peers into a dancer’s moist from a distance of approximately five inches. When satiated with the gynecological exam, he tosses what was between five and seven dollars in the air, three of which unable to make it and causing another guy to pick them up and put them onstage. He then walks back to his table where five of his clones bump fists and realize how fucking amazing they are. Unless he’s the Clark Howard of pimps, that’s lame as fuck. I hope he flashes a gang sign to the wrong guy and winds up floating down to Pennywise.

2. Two guys have a tiny round table. They look the part. I’ll give them that. The hats. The clothes. The jewelry. They could be one of Atlanta’s numerous successful hip-hop acts. They aren’t. They are actually two guys who work at a warehouse, according to a waitress at the club. Still, they have three dancers in their tiny area and are too uninterested to do anything but throw dollar bills at or around them for about fifteen minutes.The girls make the same money they would have off of a regular lapdance and possibly less. Additionally, untold dollars that drifted off were claimed by other ladies, other patrons, or will be found when the house lights go up. Later one of the girls tells me that she’s grown a thick skin to it but has a hard time not loathing the guys who do that. Adversely, when real hip-hop acts are there, they’re total gentlemen. Mystifying that the imposters can’t even do it right.

3. A young white redneck in a rigid Braves cap (hologram intact, as is the style) walks to the stage somewhat tentatively and throws about fifteen dollars around like they did it in that music video he saw on the television before they set Rock Band up. Most of it misses the stage entirely. Instead of picking it up, he walks away with a fresh and entirely not isolated case of premature ejaculation.

Look, I observe a lot and experience very little. I’m no great prize. I know this. But I cannot stand when people enter a place that is at worst a cheap thrill but also a place where, if you are YOURSELF and let the same rules of civilized man govern you that do on the outside, not much different than any other in the amount of shitty, decent, and great people. The thing that really kills me is that I’ve gotten to know a few really special people and it has almost nothing to do with the location or its purpose. Clothes are shed. It’s a part of the deal. Money is transfered from wallet into g-string. But are you trying to tell me that it’s a sin or dumber than the stuff we do in our everyday lives? I get more guilt from paying a barista at Starbucks four bucks for a green tea latte. I just don’t see what benefit there is in pretending.

In general. If you’re going to make it rain, be THOR. Unload. Pay for her month’s rent or clit reduction surgery. Finance her addiction. Help feed this 22 year-old’s eight kids.

But for the love of Karel Roden don’t treat the club like a MMORPG. That’s what church is for.


- Nick Nunziata is going to either film a documentary about strip clubs or write a book. Too much great and somewhat sad material to be shared and though there are already dozens… his will be, um… better.

And now… a Mary Worth War Strip from the vault…

Click the image to Large It Up!

All apologizes to the creators of the strip. This intended as parody only and not an attempt to be the best thing ever.