Thanks to (redacted)
Closed down for nearly two years now following the indictment of owner Frank Lunati, Platinum Plus was pretty much the, uh, Platinum Plus of Memphis strip joints. It was a shame to see it go, if only as a drunken late night go-to joke. (“Whooooo’s going to Platinum, motherfuckers?! Yeeeeeahhhhhh!!”) So to have the auction, scheduled for 10am this Thursday, NOW? I just can’t understand why you’d reopen old wounds.
I mean, who among us can help but feel a sentimental pluck at the old bonerstrings at the sight of the brass cage, now dull and tarnished from years of tit-free neglect? And what about those ghostly cases of outdated Corona, now never to be shaken up and sprayed upon the twisted, sagging breasts of a 41-year-old mother of three?
Those Fed bastards are even auctioning the stage. Is nothing sacred? When does the Historic Preservation Society step up to the plate? Come on. If watching your bachelor buddies - shirtless and on all fours - being dogwalked by topless women around a slab of oily formica to the tune of “You Give Love a Bad Name” doesn’t constitute historical significance, I don’t know what the fuck does.
Frankly, it makes me a little misty eyed. Misty eyed and, I’m not ashamed to say it, a bit nauseus. IN A GOOD WAY. After all, what kind of heartless bastard could look at such hauntingly beautiful images and not feel that familiar twinge in his stomach?
And with it, be instantly transported back to that very same room, in that very same stained polyester chair, on that very same night when he realized with great surprise and wonder that, in the right context, a vagina can actually make you to vomit?
(ps. Is that... is... is that a... a... a RIDING CROP?)
0 comments:
Post a Comment