Stripper Blogger Profiled “Offline”; Audience Not Titillated

Everything that’s great about your favorite blogger/dancer (her writer’s “voice” [seriously]) get’s stripped away (pun intended) when someone else does the writing. Diablo Cody, Minneapolis’ favorite stripper/blogger/media critic is written up in this week’s CityPages and it’s really kind of a dissapointment. A disclaimer: I read her site for the writing, not the neccid pictures, of which there are few (psst… update the pics, Diablo).

A couple complaints: First, the title: “Pussy Galore”? That’s all the geniuses could come up with for a title? Second, like a lot of english majors, I get more interested in the po-mo “stripper is the watcher/critic, the audience is the author/text” switch, rather than the standard “Stripper isn’t dumb” storyline (does that make me a literary voyeur?). More of her observations on her audience, less of her observations on wedding cakes. Third, every stripper (or welder, or line cook, or customer service rep) has their own story and their own dreams their working toward, so why another story about someone in the sex biz? (1). Lastly, everything you have to explain is ruined when in the explanation. If CityPages thinks Diablo Cody is interesting, they should have sent her to the bridal fair without the mouth-breathing Real Journalist and let her write the damn story. The essence of the profile was “here’s a stripper who writes” so why not just let her tell us what she saw, in her own voice, at the bridal show? Show (or publish), don’t tell.

Small World Story #1: My father in law used to be sort-of business partners with a guy who ran a dance club in what is now the Choice.

Small World Story #2: Back in the dot-com glory days, I used to work directly across the street from Choice and up 4 stories. My office looked down, but not too judgementally, at the front door where I could see the folks duck in and the bouncers keep the bums out. I could also see the roof of the 1 story club. On hot summer days, the “workers” would go to the roof and cool down in a pool, sending all of us sweaty web-geeks into a bit of a tizzy. Combine that with our “full fridge” policy and we’d lose a lot of productivity when the mercury went over 80 degrees. No wonder we couldn’t turn a profit.

(1) Obviously, sex sells, even when the story is ostensibly not about the sex. It’s just edgy enough to feel a little dirty without actually being too dirty. What’s revealing is that the author “Rod” Smith makes no mention of going to see her at work. Writing about the intellectual in the sex business is still writing about the sex business, no matter how detached you try to make your observations, so he might as well have gone right up to the front row and put his dollars down with the rest of ’em. Boy, I would have loved to hear him pitch his editor about doing this story, though.

Now, On To My Next Project…

Well, I’m done with my taxes for 2003 and it’s good to have that task done. Now, I can move on to more important things:
– Riding more
– setting up my new bike
– writing that book I’ve been planning
– Actually studying for the Series 7 test
– Lose 10 pounds
– figure out what to do with my life

The Shins

Bad interview (but better than nothing) with the Shins at Pitchfork. BTW, I’m one of the “middle aged guys” that go to shows like this. I’m not that weird. I just haven’t grown out of my rock and roll fix. So, relax James Mercer.

Congratulations Phil

Lefty wins it at the end. I watched the first couple holes, and after the debacle in the bunker, I thought he’d collapse and the streak would go one. But, it looks like he’s got some steel cajones:

“Mickelson birdied five of the last seven holes and shot 31 on the back nine — the best finish by a Masters champion since Jack Nicklaus had a 30 in 1986. He closed with a 69.”

He looks like he’s afraid Ernie Els is going to sneak up on him and take the trophy! Here’s the scorecard for his 18. Damn good.