Erotic City

Aw shit, son. You know why Santa Claus doesn’t have any kids? Because, he only cums once a year and it’s down a chimney. Sorry...I stole that joke from a Laffy Taffy wrapper, because I needed to fill another 44 words in this column.

R.I.P. Boom Boom Room

As many folks have already heard, Boom Boom Room was recently sold. Now, I don’t like to get into the risky territory of mentioning specific clubs and behindthe- scenes information, but Boom Boom holds a special place in my heart. Barbur was my stomping grounds for years. In fact, it was the first place I lived, when I moved up to Portland from Salem. Barbur has a certain charm that separates itself from the rest of the city and, to an extent, even the more auent, surrounding neighborhoods. Anyone who has lived in Portland for decades, knows all about "the twelve to Tigard" and the amazing mix of culture, crazy people and community college students that Barbur was (and, still is, in some aspects). Yes, Crab Bowl is still open. It never closed—it just looks that way. Boom Boom Room, on the other hand, was a nice slice of the strip club life, as if a little piece of Reno was uprooted, given more progressive laws and placed in between Multnomah and the freeway. An extremely upscale club priced in to accommodate working class customers, the only complaint I ever had with Boom Boom was the fact they built it so close to the freeway exit I took on the drive home. I mean, give a man some leeway before you take all of his money.

When you first turn 21, you want to feel like a baller. Looking back, I was a shitty tipper, but even if it was just a few bucks, the Boom Boom girls always made me and my friends feel like we were the white extras in a Snoop Dogg video. One time, we came rolling in, reeking of weed and ordering sodas, because we didn’t want to get the spins. Sitting at the rack, politely placing bills down and trying to blend in, the DJ announced, "Alright peeps, we got some Bone Thugs coming up for my smokers down there at the rack, who need to change their damn laundry, ha!" Again with the firsts, as a 21-year old, you might not yet grasp the concept of "cool adults, who are cool with weed and play cool music for you, because they know you’re cool." I’m not saying the bouncers would have been cool with us blazing up in the parking lot, but it was a fantastic transition into adulthood—to be treated like, well, adults (even though we were clearly still proud owners of Bob Marley posters).

Speaking of music, two of my favorites (Dick Hennessy and Jared) ruled that fucking DJ booth. You’d often hear Slayer and Wu-Tang back to back, which is a feat that I’ve rarely been able to pull off. I can’t say that Dick is hurting for shifts without being proven wrong by the previous ten pages of ads, but if you get a chance to employ either of these gentlemen, they have my word. Oh, and Brian. He has nothing to do with Boom Boom, but he’s looking for work, too. I don’t wanna out him, but just go ahead and hire any DJ named Brian (who says he knows me and can prove it).

Anyhow, I just want to let everyone know that Boom Boom Room now falls into the category of "Old Portland," along with Church Of Elvis, X-Ray Cafe, The City Nightclub and a slew of never-to-be-forgotten memorabilia. We get sad any time a strip club closes, but Boom Boom Room had a special vibe to it. To the new hands take it over, may you have the best intentions and keep the legacy going, regardless of the name or theme. It’s just off the exit and located on Barbur. How could you go wrong?

Miss Exotic Oregon: The New Blood

I would legally tell you to gamble on the outcome of Miss Exotic, but it’s also immoral because, by the time this is published, we will already know the results. This is the fucked up thing about the publishing industry; we care more about getting you our mags on time, than we do holding off for the news. It’s also fucked up that I found a way to squeeze a semicolon into a paragraph about strippers and pole dancing contests. Portland State University, ladies and gentlemen.

What I am going to say, is that, regardless of the outcome, everyone who competed was a winner. God, that sounds trite. But, I went to a few of the qualifier rounds and judged at the finals. What I saw, were dancers who genuinely enjoyed their craft. For a few weeks, all the dressing room drama and social media beef was put aside, and competition was friendly as hell. Now, since I’m writing this a week before the finals, I’m really hoping that there wasn’t a huge gang fight in the style Michael Jackson’s "Beat It" (unless, of course, that was part of a theme set). But, as of a week before the final rounds, I’m impressed that our industry keeps churning out new talent that respects the craft. It takes guts to dance naked, let alone in front of several strangers, who are literally judging your every move.

In past years, there’s always been some sort of rumor surrounding the competition, whether it was regarding vote-rigging, insider trading, secret pedophile rings located in the basement of pizza joints on the edge of town, the whole nine...but, as an insider, I can guarantee no one aliated with Exotic has any idea who will win, until the final votes are tallied. The only exception I can think of, is the year we gave a bunch of Bernedette’s votes to Hillary, but that was because Bernedette wanted us to give ads away for free.

Congrats to Miss Exotic 2018, whoever you are. Keep an eye on our Facebook page (Facebook.com/XoticMag) and our Instagram (@exotic_mag) or Xmag.com, for pre-January leaks about the winners.

Who Will Be The First Marijuana- Friendly Strip Club?

Clearly, we don’t discriminate against stoners (did you forget about my Boom Boom story already?). Our corner of the industry is at the forefront, with innovations made daily to keep us on top. There is a vegan strip club next to the world’s best steakhouse, which is also a strip club. You can get your dog washed by a topless woman in a parking lot. There are more varieties of buttplug on stage than there are body types. Portland (and the surrounding area) is like the Apple of the strip club industry (except, we’re a tad less expensive and the models we put out last year still work with whatever you have in your pocket).

So, who’s got dibs on dabs? If we can serve shots, why not pot? I’m just trying to sell one of these slogans I’ve had written down forever. Name your price and I’ll release it to ya. But, come on, open up a Sativa-Dominant Strip Club already. Sure, customers may forget to tip, but that’s why you have a DJ to remind them. Do you have any idea how much food you would sell, whether carnivore or herbivore? Put me in front of bacon, breasts and a bong, and I promise I will never leave your fucking establishment. Plus, we just wrapped up with harvest season and growers have mad cash. Where do you think they want to spend it, Home Depot?

I know that at least a few of you out there are considering the legalities, but take into account that you can watch two girls eat ass while you drink beer—what kind of lawyer wouldn’t be able to argue a case against a joint-friendly patio? Trust me, the laws are changing by the day. Get in now and remember to run an ad in our magazine. Hell, I’ll even "review" your club for ya (and, then, I’ll come back the next day to do it again, because shortterm memory is a myth).

Chinese Introduce Social Credit System

Imagine an episode of Black Mirror, in which everyone is judged by a credit score, which is determined by one’s reputation, as determined by social media postings, tweets, drunken texts to former pornstars asking them if the Illuminati really controls the industry, etc. Now, replace all the stock Netflix actors with real Chinese people. This is happening. That shit you posted about your roommate? That thing you said about your last boss? Congrats. By 2020, it will be public record and will impact everything from your ability to find work, to your financial credit rating. China will give people "social credit scores," based on what they consume (if you eat too much, you’re worth less), share on social media (goodbye shitposts) and all sorts of wonderful stuff. Remember that text you apologized for after you sobered up?

As it stands, the Court Of Public Opinion does a pretty decent job keeping in check those who deserve it. But, that’s the free market at work and it usually involves the public outing of someone’s criminal accusations. This is not the same thing as being forced to boycott people who I do not want to support, because they’re deemed to be un-persons as a result of not paying a bill, eating fatty foods or posting drunken shit on the Westboro Baptist Facebook page. Further, I may not want to know that my next door neighbor likes to send naughty photos to her ex-husband, or if the guy I buy weed from was banned from Twitter for calling @LenaDunham a pig—that’s none of my business. We screen our writers for, say, felonies. Sort of. Okay, I’ve never even asked. But, I don’t give two shits about whether or not Brad Cox cussed out the owners of Daynight Donuts on Yelp. It doesn’t matter if Jaime Dunkle liked a Facebook post by former Beatle, Charles Manson. None of this is my business. If people I associate with are "problematic," I’ll do a criminal background check and decide for myself. But, I am deathly afraid that some sort of social credit system would prevent me from making moves in life, simply because the algorithms discovered I was, say, a strip club DJ and a Juggalo.

What happens to sex workers, if (when) the U.S. adopts a social credit score system? "Stripper" is one of those words that can be used as a slur—does anyone think it will hold up to a computer algorithm that determines a human’s social worth? Even "exotic dancer" or similar euphemisms do not hide the "dances naked for cash with an honor-system tax arrangement" aspect of this industry. Further, what about our advertisers? Our layout staff? Under a rule of social capital, would anyone associated with "undesirables" be excommunicated from society?

I know it seems out there, but if it’s not as hypothetical as we’d like to think, what can we do to prevent it? I say, we should stop openly rating folks based on categories— this is something that goes on daily, all over the internet and bleeding into real life. We need to stop treating each other like shit based on, oh, social media postings about politicians or opinions on gender. I know, I’m doing the whole "steal M.L.K.’s speech, because motherfuckers still haven’t picked up on it" thing. But, once we open the floodgates for division, we will drown. Did M.L.K. say that? If not, I’m stealing it from whoever did. Every post about how "Group X" is heathens/ deplorables/etc., goes into the data pile.

Imagine if simply liking a Pepe meme or photo of Trump staring at the sun would prevent you from receiving employment.

Right now, my friends are my reputation. Thankfully, I don’t discriminate based on things like income, political preference, dietary habits or the like—I keep it simple and just avoid hipsters and catty white girls. But, again, that’s the free market for you. What if I was forced to avoid hipsters and catty white girls, just because they rank lowest on the social credit score? That’s not a world I want to live in. What if I need a Starbucks?

Whenever someone says, "I don’t judge," I take that as a challenge. I know, for a fact, that at least a handful of you have un-friended me from social media, but still read my columns. I dig. But, my 3AM shitposts should not prevent my family from living a good life. And, the fact that said family is entirely hypothetical, should also not be reason to excommunicate me for being a waste of resources and hoarding all this would-be alimony money for sweet, precious video games and bachelorhood. In short, keep your laws off my shitposts and, in the words of the white women I avoid, "don’t ju-uh-dge meee."

So, while you’re using Bitcoin to pay for L.S.D., stop and consider that this whole "social credit thing" is not as impossible as you’d want it to be. Get at least partially off the grid. Avoid trackers, by using the Brave browser instead of Firefox or Chrome. Search with DuckDuckGo, instead of Google. Pay cash or use cryptocurrency when possible. Quit whoring out your digital information. Because, if (when) they decide to stamp your name with a digital social credit score, you’ll get flagged for supporting damn near anyone who advertises in this publication.

Then again, I turn 38 next month. I’ve already accepted that my credit score and age are creeping closer and closer each year. And, my reputation has been smeared so many times, it’s gone from shit to clay. So, this warning goes out to all you Millenials and your fancy mechanical dodads. Do you want killer robots? Because, this is how we get killer robots.