The First Time I Have Ever Been Truly Grateful for Autocorrect

My iPhone just corrected "tape" from "rape."

I am very happy about this, what with the conversation I'd been having about book publishers and retailers merging/warring, and creating "antitrust red tape."

I honestly don't want to think about MacMillan & Co. creating red rape any time soon. That sounds like more the self-published-mommy-porn cup of tea, if you ask me, and I'm still of the opinion those abuse fantasy whackjobs should have kept it to watching Hallmark Channel original movies like back in the good old days.

Before the Dark Times. Before the Grey. Now the Soccer MILF is all but extinct … seduced by the dark side of vampire romance and edgy, South Reno strip clubs.

Alright, I can't actually shoehorn any more Star Wars references into that idea. Actually I almost said "Wedge," but I don't think enough of you are nerdy enough to catch that one. And if you did, I'm sorry I just explained it. I feel like C-3PO now. I'll be in the corner if anyone needs me.

Portland Strip Clubs Are Weird

Our friend Matt was in town this past week, and this little statement got uttered:

"The thing about Portland strip clubs is …"

Is what? All the dancers have MFAs?

The girls all sort of look alike in that they have close-cropped hair, gauged ears, chest tattoos and start out wearing plaid?

They the stage music is by a band you've probably never heard of?

The the proprietor in dominatrix boots doesn't just wear a schoolgirl outfit, she holds a doctorate in library sciences?

…

Actually, it turns out the truth is almost better than those jokes (which might also actually be true):

Most of the strip clubs in Portland carry microbrews at $3-4 a pint. And at least one is owned by a dairy farm mogul, so at his place you can get a steak and good beer for about $10 while you watch a reasonably attractive woman getting naked on stage.

Then again, she's more garnish on the potatoes at that type of place.