So I was directed to a fascinating article about a former Dallas Morning News writer named Michael Precker who, frustrated by the journalism business, chose a new profession: Strip club manager.
This wasn’t just some writer for the Podunk Gazette. Precker was working for one of the top newspapers in the country; he covered international affairs and was nominated for the Pulitzer. After a while, however, he got frustrated and left.
I understand that frustration. Really, I do.
Then, however, I went to the website for Precker’s club. I beg of you, watch the two clips at the intro. Was journalism really that bad?
I’ve been to four or five strip joints in my life—once out of curiosity (The Tool Shed in Jacksonville), one for a birthday party, twice or three times for bachelor parties. I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of strip clubs (Well, I am. But it is a free country, and at least they’re regulated to some degree). What I can say, with 100-percent certainty, is there is NOTHING “gentlemanly” about a place where men go to watch women gyrate on polls.
That said, I did stay at a Holiday Inn once.
