Strip Club Manifesto

Face it. There are no good strip clubs in Seattle.

If our restaurant scene were as craptastic as our strip club scene, we'd be eating out at Applebee's, Chili's, Olive Garden, or Red Lobster (for those who swing a different way).

We're happy that two local strip club owners, a.k.a. Seattle Citizens for Free Speech, have ponied up over half a million dollars to save lap dances. We like lap dances. We'll vote to save lap dances.

We just don't care for their clubs.

Between erotophobic nanny laws and owners so cliched they're (supposedly) fronting for the mob, our clubs lack sparkle, wit, or innovation. No dinner, no drinks, no boobs exposed anwhere offstage. We get our raunch clean and without frills. It could get worse: that's without the latest mayor-proposed, council-approved, stripper-hostile rules.

And we don't just want pale echoes of clubs in Atlanta, Vegas, or New York. We want Seattlesque clubs. Look at Portland. They don't settle for beer, food, and pool in their clubs -- they invented stripparaoke! Our most entertaining stripping-related concept? The Lusty Lady marquee. Much as we love that marquee, that's pathetic.

Seattle, we can do better. We're the home of Babeland and Dan Savage, burlesque troops and the Little Red Studio, Hump! and the Wet Spot.

We're home to a bunch of dirty, creative minds. It's about time our strip clubs reflected that.

We're starting to think we should take all that money we'd spend to save the lap dance and spend it on a business proposal and an adult cabaret license.