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Editor’s note: Anybody remember the ‘Bo Knows’ NIKE commercials? Well, let DP Dot Commenter and iNternets Celebrity cohort 40 DAWG tell you what he knows…

I remember my first trip to the “gentleman’s club” it was ’92 and I was a 17 year old freshman in college. My man from Florida JJ (RIP) put us on to this spot and since all the boys from The Bottom were all about Luke records I figured they knew what was up. Video hoes hadn’t become a phenomenon and “stripper anthems” didn’t even exist. See it was still the end of the Afrocentric era of hip-hop and after years of hailing up your queens I figured that the objectification of women wasn’t right by that movement. Alas it was college and we hung out in the dorm drinking 64’s of Old Gold and killing time before we skated. Our destination – the notorious (and now defunct) Fox Valley in North Philly. See “The Fox” as we called it didn’t open until 1 am, and it was a huge warehouse space that doubled as a place where the ladies of the formal strip spots could work overtime and do more raunch for the crowds that they weren’t allowed to do in places with liquor licenses. Lets just say there was a reason why these broads were working overtime, the collection of scar tissue in there was overwhelming on these broads but as the night progressed and the Cisco kicked in the siren song that is a strip club began to work its magic. I was in.

For the better part of my college years after that we explored any environment that had a pole on an elevated dance area with mirrored background. We roamed the corners of North Philly, West Philly, South Philly, Camden, South Jersey, and even Delaware always on the come up for some new flesh den where Heineken bottles were used for more than just holding beer. Like any hobby as your exposure increases so does your standards. I had moved on to the after hours barber shops that turned into booty and BBQ and started moving on to the higher end spots where the dancers worked out but the physical interaction declined. These better joints were better visually and also put me on to the past-time of just building with these gals. See before at the more “grimy” spots its just flesh and business and the personal aspect of it is kept to a minimum. However these spots these were women you’d actually holler at in public and the fact you could see their sweater meat just elevated it all.

My ace cuzzo Panama was in Philly with me and we’d regularly hit up spots like Delilah’s Den at lunch for chicken fingers and tee-tays. Panama was that guy and knew people everywhere including a gang of these strippers so they’d invite us out and we’d just soak it all in. I guess knowing these chicks off the clock caused me to be a little more respectful to these women when they were on the clock. Along with that came the occasional discovery of the girl you knew in Math 255 was working a pole like a bell curve. I have to say I enjoyed the “Oh shit someone else knows” look they’d shoot you from the main stage and then try and go back to dancing. Just make sure you hang it up when tuition is paid!

Time went by and my man hooked me up with a bouncing job at this little strip spot by UPENN’s campus and it exposed me even more to the life of a stripper. One of the best tidbits was the multiple layers of names these chicks would have to throw their scent off. Her stage name could be something based off an alcoholic drink, then she’d tell the custie her real name was some generic porn/sexy type name like “Amber” or “Monique”, then she’d tell her other stripper friends that her name is really “Joan”, and then I’d be in class seeing the same broad getting a test back with the name “Isabel”. Oh what a tangled web we weave.

Time moved on and I left college but still got to experience some of the best strip spots on the East Coast, like Coco’s and the RoleXXX in Miami. In fact its safe to say “The LeXXX” is hip-hop’s first strip club and one of the first institutions that turned the MIA into the playground for rap stars. In fact I was blessed enough to hang out at RoleXXX with Trick Daddy and some other cats that were former “The U” royalty. Nelly’s “Tip Drill” ain’t have sh*t on a “get that bottle” contest. I also have to give a shout out to “38th & 8th” (aka Club Passion aka Club “Assion” – he “p” fell off the door) where you could get the best pat & frisk on your way in possible (they have girls do it). I missed the infamous “Brain Fest” underground circuit that existed in NYC during the late 90’s but I heard those were pretty ill in their own right. Shouts to Nights on Broadway in North Philly which has taken over for “The Fox” and at 3:00 they announce “LOCK DOOR!” and if you got the money – anything goes. Last time I was there I was getting lappies and drinking yak with comedian Michael Colyar. Ah the times.

The strip club to me has waned in my later years, I think because I spent so much time in them in my early 20’s. Also with the sanitization of NYC and your boys cohabiting with their wifey’s and real wives, its kinda difficult to get out of the house for that purpose let alone coming back home smelling like booty, sweat, strawberry, cocoa butter, and incense. Also like everything else in society hip-hop and the internets has killed off the allure these places once had. Now you got “strip club anthems”, shoot outs from “making it rain”, the abundance of video hoes, and all the downloadable porn in the world makes seeing such lusciousness and lewdness so easily accessible. Gone are the days of grainy VHS porn dubs and hoping the bouncer lets you in to the titty bar so you can maximize the $16 in singles you got. Now strip clubs for me are more of a lark, something you do on vacations, bachelor parties, or when an outta town college buddy comes to visit. But every once in a while I get out there and re-live that old nostalgia. Whether its Sue’s Rendezvous, Strokers in Atlanta, or it was the chick I bagged at the Spearmint Rhino in Vegas, or Amateur Night at Uptown Cabaret in Charlotte, you can catch me clockin’ the clear heels every so often. However if you catch me in there I’m more likely to be found chatting up the ladies more than slappin’ ’em with singles but hey, they’re people to right? But that don’t mean I forgot what to do when I’m there…

40’s Total Experience:
Stripper Type: Well scented, well proportioned (no deformedly huge body parts, even the good ones), 5’8″ or better with out heels, and interesting (just don’t stare at the sky!).
Song: Prince’s “Darling Nikki” (or some other classic piff). Dancing to stripper “anthems” is too easy for them.
Accoutrement: Baseball hat (if you can wear one in, I love a chick dancing in my fitted) & Charms Blow Pop so you can salaciously eat it while giving her eye mojo.

Everything else is up to you… Plus remember the $5-7 per song ratio when calculating the value of a lapdance. None of this $40 for 3 mins shit! (Eh hem – SCORES!)

	‘YE TUDDA: “Locked Door parties is what’s up!” I actually travel with my own pr0n though, because it’s hard to find a club with that good interracial bestiality bondage type shit.