Monday, January 24, 2005


Congrats to all my friends in Beantown and Philly...hopefully you'll all fight to the death within the next two weeks because I strongly dislike both of these cities' fans.

So, in lieu of any more football discussion, here's the top story of the day (well, yesterday):

"LAS VEGAS - A Las Vegas law prohibiting strippers from fondling customers during lap dances is unconstitutionally vague, a judge ruled. District Court Judge Sally Loehrer affirmed a lower court ruling that as many as five misdemeanor criminal cases filed against Las Vegas strippers should be dismissed.

Friday's ruling affects only dancers within city limits. The Clark County Commission in 2002 limited touching between strippers and patrons during private lap dances, specifically barring strippers from touching or sitting on the customer's genital area." More...

If this case makes it to the Supreme Court, does Clarence Thomas have to recuse himself?

Well, if that story doesn't cheer you up, maybe nothing will. After all, today is considered the "most depressing day of the year." So smile...


At 1:57 PM, Blogger Matty Mac said...

Whether they are touching you or not, a lap dance is always better when the stripper is crying.

What I want to know about this case is how they proceeded, in the courtroom, to show examples of what happens during the lap dance? Do the strippers get up on the stand and give the judge a sample of a lap dance? Do they rub the gavel all over their gyrating bodies?

Judge: "after reviewing the defendants statements, I call for a five minute recess. Okay, so, maybe a 3 minute recess, tops. I'll be in my chambers, alone, no one bother me."

At 2:25 PM, Blogger Bart Starbux said...

Interesting tidbit at the end there, Bullet. Until I read that article, was convinced my foul mood could be explained by the following formula:

M = N x 1,000,000,000,000

Where M represents misery and N represents the number of times the annoying, overy talkative, Fran-Drescher-doing-Lois-Griffin-voiced customer service woman in my office explains to me in great detail--and with pointing--the cruel nature and exact location of her grandson's deformed testicle (For today, let N = 1).

Happy Monday.

At 3:18 PM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

My deformed testicle is in a box buried in my boyhood home's front yard. How does that affect your Monday, Bux?


Post a Comment

<< Home