Somewhere between Cirque du Soleil and Mons Venus Gentleman's Club lies the new heat in pole dancing. It's gone suburban, apparently, this ancient art-form, even mainstream. In that wonderfully American way in which anything, no matter how salacious, can be formalized, there is even a Pole Dancing Federation.[link] Their next convention is to be held in Redwood National Park, I understand. Them's some might fine poles there, hot-diggety.
Stripping and poles go hand-in-hand. As a youth on my first visit to a strip club, it was clear that the girls on stage felt more comfortable with a prop, especially the greenhorns. Putting myself in their position, it's natural to be nervous, what with all your bodily wonders and flaws visible to the leering mass of drunk sweaty wallets....I mean customers. Holding onto a pole must feel like holding onto your dignity, at least until Miguel comes backstage during your break and offers you a little something to get you through.
*sniff*
Okay, it's unavoidable, I know. I can't be cute about this: yes, there is a connection between the "pole" and a man's penis, otherwise known as a "pole". There, it's out in the open now.
What's that? Women don't see it that way? Oh.
Well we do. How else to interpret a disrobing female cavorting around a stiff cylindrical verticularity? Can there be another explanation?
In the end, I guess women pole-dancing with their sig.oth. as an audience is the natural result of men unable or unwilling to learn a few dance steps viz: Tango. Women want to dance, they want to do it with their guy, so why not invite an inanimate brass third to help things along - to grease the pole, if you'll pardon the pun. Good luck to them.
And if ever Vegas needs a new attraction it would be this. The strippermobile, complete with pole. A new high in family entertainment. [link]
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