Mankato Memoirs: Sexual Harassment from Other Strippers

Sexual harassment was part of my Mettler’s lawsuit, and it had nothing to do with Jacob Davis. The majority of sexual harassment and assault that I experienced while working inside of Mettler’s was from other dancers. Rather than spending agonizing days making separate posts about these hags, I’ll make it real quick and lump them all in the same post. I don’t want to think about them too much. I have no say in what types of dancers tend to engage in a type of sexual assault that they think of as playful lesbian ass play. What I will say is that there are predictable types of dancers who engage in this creepy behavior, and I avoid them to the best of my ability. What I will say is that I never experienced this in Oregon. I will describe the five dancers who I named in my lawsuit.

Athena: I do not know Athena’s real name and can’t find her facebook to doxx her with a photo. She’d do things like grab other dancers asses or genitals. When she tried this with me, I grabbed her hand, bent her fingers back and said, “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME.” She stopped with me after that, but continued with other dancers. I didn’t tell on Athena to management, because I was exhausted with taddling by that time.

Kels: Kels was one of the dancers who was fired during that fight I posted about a few weeks ago. I don’t know her real name or have her photo. I can’t find her mugshot. Otherwise, I would doxx her. She fondled my buttocks while I was working, so I told management. They “talked” to her, which resulted in her becoming angry and gossiping about me more with other dancers. I was SO relieved when she was fired for fighting.

Nadia: Same story— I don’t know her real name or have her photo to doxx her. Same story— she engaged in predatory lesbian behavior.

Candice Will: Candice went by Candy at Mettler’s. She came up behind me and fondled my buttocks while I was giving a lap dance. I told management. They spoke with her. She continued to harass me at work by doing things such as giving a half-assed apology for touching me, even though I didn’t want to talk to her at all. She repeatedly asked me to fasten her brassiere in the dressing room, which was disgusting, because I didn’t want to touch the body or undergarments of someone who had previously sexually harassed me. One time she bullied me into driving her to a casino after work, because she knew that other dancers had successfully guilt tripped me into sometimes giving them car rides. I hit a raccoon while she was in my car, and still feel terrible about it. Candice generally didn’t give a shit. She’s a fairly threatening person in a really disturbing passive way, and stated that she fondled DJ Karl’s buttocks to get what she wanted around work. She acts really chipper and nice but is actually a volatile person. The Mettler’s staff was nice to her because they felt sorry for her and thought she had a sweet personality. They didn’t mind too much that she was a sexual predator. People don’t usually take sexual predators seriously if they don’t fit the profile of one, so yeah, I named this sick bitch in my lawsuit.

Sharde Allen: I don’t remember her stage name, but I did find her facebook. I guess Sharde Allen is her real name, but sometimes people use fake names on facebook too. Sharde and I were on friendly terms until she ran up behind me and smacked my ass. Management saw. I doubt they did anything about it. I didn’t bother talking to them about it, because again, I was exhausted with taddling on all these people. I made it clear to Sharde that I didn’t want her touching me. Not only were we not on friendly terms any more after that, but she would go out of her way to dramatically toss her ugly long fake braids while she was near me, in order to whip me with the ends of them. She would intentionally arrange her lap dances close to me while I was dancing, in order to whip me with her braids. She is creepy and weird as fuck.

Mankato Memoirs: Jacob Davis and CADA

Jacob Davis was a kitchen cook during my early days at Mettler’s. I almost never become romantically involved with coworkers, but Mankato residents are incredibly boring people and I was lonely. He was a hillbilly from California who intrigued me.

I met Jacob Davis on the weekend before Halloween. I was searching for the next dweeb to hustle on the night of October 29th, when I turned to see a four-eyed dork in renaissance faire wear, leaning against a high top table by the kitchen. I thought to myself before speaking to him, “This loser looks slightly less disgusting than most men. I will talk to him and see if he wants a dance.” I whispered dirty things into his ear, and he revealed to me that he worked for the club as a cook. He said he wanted a dance anyway, but that he needed to go get his money. I told him to go away, but he lingered around me, trying to show me a drum that he made out of wood. I knew my boundaries were being violated then, and this put up a red flag, but I ignored it because he was cute and I thought maybe I could get him to do a dance later. I forgot about him until he returned hours later with some friends. He had changed into regular clothes and was no longer wearing a leather pouch around his neck like that of a renaissance faire attendee.

Unfortunately when we got together outside of work, I was sexually assaulted by him and had to file a police report about it. Everyone at Mettler’s knew, and he was fired almost immediately after the owners found out. I think some people at Mettler’s thought I was just talking about it in order to sue the club or include him in my lawsuit somehow, but I did not include his actions in the Mettler’s sexual harassment claims whatsoever. His actions occurred outside of work, the beginning of our friendship was consensual, and Mettler’s took prompt actions to get rid of him. I’m not interested in going into too much detail about Jacob Davis, because it is too difficult to write about. Similarly, I’m not going to include a photograph of him in this post, because he is an ugly hillbilly and I am embarrassed to have been interested in such a person.

Ashley and Cole were a husband and wife juggalo team at Mettler’s-- Ashley a waitress and Cole a cook. Ashley and I became quick work friends. After Jacob assaulted me, I told Ashley, who told her husband Cole.

“I can't work with him or I'm going to stab him,” Cole said to me when he found out about Jacob. Cole was drunk when he revealed to me that he was the first one to tell the owners before they fired Jacob. During the whole time that I was sitting there talking to Cole about what had happened, all I could think of was how strange it was that he was a fan of ICP lyrics, which contain so much violence and misogyny. But, I like Ashley and Cole and enjoyed having them as coworkers at Mettler’s.

It was after Jacob Davis that I became acquainted with a group called CADA in Mankato. They provide advocacy and resources for victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. When I filed a police report about Jacob, a CADA advocate accompanied me. A crappy creepy cop named Mohamed Mohamed took my report. CADA’s center provided me with legal resources, support groups and other things I needed while in Mankato living my life. I really love them and am thankful for groups like CADA.

Jacob Davis hired a lawyer and due to a lack of evidence, never got in trouble for anything he did to me.

Mankato Memoirs: Depressing Downtown

Mankato is home of the largest mass execution in U.S. history. Before all of the passive aggressive, fake smiling, grotesquely vanilla white Minnesotans moved to the area, the land called Mankato was inhabited by Dakota Sioux. In what is called the Dakota War of 1862 or Little Crow’s War, 303 indigenous people were sentenced to death. Every shitlib’s favorite president, Abe Lincoln, reduced this number somewhat, but many of the accused were still unjustly slaughtered with his OK.

In downtown Mankato, there is a place called Reconciliation Park. It exhibits a buffalo statue, a statue of a Native man, and some giant fake piece of paper. This stuff is supposed to represent reconciliation, which is really ridiculous and disgusting— just like most Minnesotans I’ve met. The park reminds me of one of their fake smiles with a tormented sociopath bubbling beneath the surface.

The public library is a short walk from Reconciliation Park. I occasionally went there when I needed to print something. The librarians were the meanest ones I have ever encountered in my life.

“Excuse me,” I would politely approach the reference desk, “But can I use a guest pass for the internet?”

“FINE,” the librarians would bristle, sulking up and toward the computers. I wrote letters of concern to the library, to let them know that their librarians were being foul. Both times resulted in the librarians being nicer to me in subsequent visits. A waterfall in the middle of the library created a serene, pouring noise that echoed ever so subtly while I did what I needed to do on the computers and sniff books. Most libraries stay open late into the evening, but the Mankato Winter hours usually made me leave by 5 PM. I couldn't figure out if they did this to save money, or because Mankato people were so stupid that they rarely went to the library, and there was no reason to keep a building open when there were no patrons. I couldn't figure out many things about the Mankato library, like why the librarians disliked me using their computers so much even though there were always a plentiful amount of open computers that were not being used.

Railroad tracks are within walking distance of Reconciliation Park and the library. Sometimes I looked at the freight trains and fantasized about hopping them, but never did. Mettler’s money is also within walking distance.

Mankato Memoirs: Strip Club Fight Club

Just kidding, Mettler’s isn’t a fight club. Most of the dancers at Mettler’s were kindly passive-aggressive Minnesota mayonnaise covered crackers, who held their angst and frustrations inside themselves so tightly packed that if you put a lump of coal up their asses, in two weeks you betcha you would get a diamond, twice the size of Cameron’s in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. These bitches may whisper about you when they think you’re not around to hear them, but they are fairly conflict avoidant when it comes to face to face interaction. That is part of the reason why I was able to stay at Mettler’s so long without any problems. Yes, their personalities are loathsome and gross. Yes, they are fucked up people. But, who cares about them validating your existence when there is money to be made in a busy strip club where customers are not allowed to touch and the DJs play great music. Mettler’s was a gem to be cherished.

This post has “Fight Club” in the title, because there was another demographic of dancer who drove out to Mankato all the time. Like me, they stayed in cheap motels at the edge of town. Like me, they came from faraway lands such as Milwaukee, St. Paul, and Chicago. Like me, they were there to make money. Unlike me, they struggled economically while dancing at Mettler’s, were prostitutes, had a propensity for sloppy violence, and paid people to sew other woman’s hairs onto their heads. Unlike a lot of other clubs, Mettler’s did nothing to prevent the occasionally large numbers of these kinds of dancers from working. Sometimes there would be a few coming into town, and sometimes there would be a whole bunch at once. Sometimes when there were a whole bunch at once, there was some kind of chemical reaction I think, to beat the fuck out of one another. It did not surprise me, as I have danced all over the country and attended a certain high school where I witnessed similar behaviors from teens who were bused in from a neighboring town. However, to many young Minnesota dancers, this type of behavior was surprising. Many Minnesotans are also extremely politically correct, so it seemed difficult for them to discuss anything in a frank manner or to acknowledge it.

The Mankato Free Press and several other papers did articles about one such fight that happened on a chilly Mettler’s night in December of 2016. I had a front row seat to this epic brawl that took place among FOUR of the aforementioned types of dancers. Earlier in the night, one of them had been staring me down as I went about selling lap dances and she sat in a chair wearing a platinum blonde wig. Another one had sexually assaulted me in a work shift prior to that, by playfully squeezing my buttocks. I have no idea what their fight was about, but it started in one of the dressing rooms, proceeded out into the hallway, and briefly ended after the bouncers intervened, before starting up again when one of them zoomed over across the entire show floor with some mace to spray in her competitor’s face. They were all entangled and the weave hairs were a-flyin’. It was wildly entertaining to see these big beefy bouncers attempting to stop four petite females and not succeeding, due to their speed, agility and dedication to whipping ass.

“One of the other dancers said Jordan hit her in the face with a shoe with a stiletto heel, striking her just below one of her eyes with the heel. The other reported that Jordan grabbed her hair and pulled out part of her weave. They also said Strayhorn sprayed them with mace while Jordan was assaulting them, the complaints said.” — Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

After it was over and the four were all thrown out and fired, I was pleased that I didn’t have to put up with having those individuals as coworkers any longer. Apparently the chaos continued outside of the club and involved a police chase. The Mankato Free Press likes to publish certain scandalous happenings in the club, but generally it was a wonderful place to work, even if they broke labor laws that I had to sue them for. Maybe you are sitting in COVID quarantine right now reading this, offended by the things that I have written, but I don’t care. It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

Mankato Memoirs: Trump Country

In 2016, Trump signs decorated the sides of rural Minnesota highways like Christmas lights on December 24th in Manhattan. Why wouldn't they be there? The democrats and regressive leftists supported NAFTA, gutted labor laws, threatened to take away a rural person's firearms, all while calling them deplorable, horrible, repugnant, based on their race, sex and sexual orientation. What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Why would any human, unless suicidal, want to follow a path off a cliff like a lemming, into the abyss? It's not at all difficult to understand why so many rural white males would vote for Trump, and why their wives would overlook Trump's misogyny in order to be loyal to their husbands and sons, instead of following some batshit crazy SJW screaming for their deaths. What the actual fuck? No, Trump's victory was not at all a surprise to me while I was in Mankato. Any human being to have been surprised by Trump's victory is dangerously tone deaf to the suffering of many millions of working people who they share a country with. It'll probably happen again later this year too, now that Bumbling Biden's tone deaf supporters successfully toppled our only hope-- Bernie Sanders. It doesn't matter that Trump is a pathological liar who is not loyal to his supporters. Before the election, I had to drive to Nevada and back to Mankato. I also drove to Illinois and back to Mankato. There were no Hillary signs anywhere in rural America, just like there are no Biden signs today.

Trump Country is more or less what Mankato is. There was something about Mankato that reminded me of my home town of Romeoville, IL, in an eerie, echoing way and touched the depths of my inner child's heart like I hadn't felt in a long long time. A lot of the architecture and buildings looked like they hadn't changed since the 70's or 80's. The social attitudes and behaviors of the residents had a similar vibe, and I liked it. Every Mettler's customer who I spoke with leading up to the election was Trump supporter. There's a lot of manufacturing jobs in the area, as well as construction and farming. On Halloween night, there were lots of sexy redneck twenty-somethings wearing MAGA hats and behaving as caricatures of die-hard Trump supporters, except they were also actual Trump supporters when it wasn't Halloween. They wore flannel and had beards and smelled like wet dog and were unapologetically themselves. It was hot as fuck.

On Saturday nights, Mettler's was full of college students and gorgeous Northwoods redneck men with stunningly perfect Viking bone structure. Mankato was home to many beautiful nature trails, a hobby lobby, scenic views, wild bison, potential for art culture. I never met more virgins in their thirties and forties than I did at Mettler's, who barely left the family farm except to go to the strip club.

Michael Moore knew what was up before the election. It's too bad Hillary didn't know it. I had to work on election night, because I was out of money after returning from a mandatory business trip to Las Vegas. I wore a red dress on election night, because I hadn't done my laundry in a long time and it was the only thing that was clean. It was a slow night, but I made a lot of money, because not a lot of other dancers were working. My manager Woody was bartending. Lilly was working too, along with a fifty year old dancer who went by Cara. Stupid Bitch Lilly (real name Lizz) pleasantly stated, in her perky bullshit Minnesota way of speaking, that it really didn't matter who won because they're all bad. I started freaking out when the state by state election results started rolling in on the TV. Lilly can't handle genuine emotion, so she looked panicked and scurried out of the dressing room. I knew Trump's win was coming, but it was nonetheless nauseating to see. The club closed before Trump's victory was announced.

At Perkins, I surfed the internet with my fries and coffee, repeatedly pressing refresh on the CNN front page until a large headline read that Trump had won. My favorite waitresses were hoovered over their laptop in a corner booth, and both immediately started crying. I cried too. We all cried in Perkins that night. As predictable as his victory might have been, Donald Trump is a rapist misogynist who we knew would eventually destroy our lives.

It was very easy to identify Trump supporters the day after the election in Mankato, by their jolly victorious demeanor. I hated all of them. I went to a local Mexican restaurant to eat lunch that day and never experienced such a palpable, grim pain in the atmosphere from workers and patrons alike.

I didn't vote for Hillary in the general election. She won Minnesota, but not by much. She won my home state of Illinois, but only because of Chicago. When the women's march happened in Minneapolis, I was laying in my Budget Host Inn room, groggy on ibuprofen and suffering from debilitating menstrual cramps, laughing and wondering what the next four years would be like. What I never would have predicted four years ago was that democrats would be stupid enough to elect Joe Biden as their guy to beat Trump.

Mankato Memoirs: Being Vegan in Mankato

Finding food while homeless can also get expensive. I'm not into dumpster diving, refrained from shoplifting while in Mankato, and was not in touch with any soup kitchens or food banks. The Budget room had a microwave and a little refrigerator. I didn't get around to buying portable cooking supplies until after I left Minnesota. Part of my reluctance was the vague delusion that I would one day, one day soon, stop living like that and get a more permanent residence.

Most of the food I ate in Mankato were microwavable vegan dinners and take-out vegan food. I desperately wanted animal rights community in Mankato, and never really got any. However, there are places to hang out in Mankato where other vegans are and vegan food is consumed.

It was just a few weeks into my employment at Mettler's that I began my search for vegans and intelligent life, neither of which had an obvious presence in the town. All the while, I knew that Carol Glasser was teaching up at the university and probably knew of some viable vegan people in the area. I didn't want help from Carol Glasser though, so I began my search on internet forums-- avoiding Carol's membership-- and meetup groups-- although every meetup I found was in Minneapolis.

There was a vegan who danced at Mettler's. Her stage name was Lilly. We exchanged phone numbers and I offered to hang out with her. She neglected to respond to any of my invitations. When my text messages to Lilly didn't work, she got real weird in that insufferable Minnesota Nice sort of way. For a while she ignored me completely, and then she would come up to me to say things like,

“I hope your feelings aren't hurt that I didn't reply to your texts!” I told her no no, hah hah, of course not, of course my feelings weren't hurt. She would spasmodically say things to me, like she did most dancers, such as, “Hello beautiful!” and “Hey gorgeous!” She would shout these things at me, but if I ever tried to elaborate on a conversation, she would icily exit the area and not elaborate. She did this with a lot of people who she encountered. I often wondered what kind of sad, desperate lunatic lurked beneath her Minnesota-nice Scandinavian surface, her tundra complexion and soulless blue eyes.

I tried to eat at every vegan-friendly restaurant in Mankato. The guides that I used were happycow.com and a facebook group, Mankato Vegans, but even these were limited to jackasses of Mankato, unable to guide me on where to socialize among other vegans in the area beyond places to eat. India Palace was one of my favorites. Coffee Hag had vegan soup, and was run by lesbians. It was an oddity in faire Mankato, and a little sanctuary, even as it contained assholes and Mettler's customers who didn't know where to loiter during the day time before the strip club opened up. I continued going there even after I trolled Coffee Hag on twitter and threatened to not go there any more because their male cashier was rude to me.

Noodles and Company was a spot I often hit up, until the insane manager became my regular at Mettler's. He would brag about his time in the military, when he murdered people in Iraq. When I went in to get my noodles, he would give me free food and refer to me as my fake-real-name loudly, “Hey Kelly!” Such things happen in small towns.

Wysywyg was a freakish juice place with little pictures of periodic-table-like letters on each bottle, to represent what kind of juice was inside. I had purchased these juices in a Roseville Lund and Byerlys, and was happy to have found the physical location. I drank these juices and thought about how absurdly expensive they were, but drank them anyway. While these juices were vegan and there was no good reason to serve meat at a juice place, several of the salads in their store had meat in them. This made me hate Wysywyg even more than I did for their expensive juice and pretentious aesthetic. Lilly hung out at Wysywyg as well, but never the same time I did.

I often drove around Mankato in circles in the freezing Winter air, meandering about, staring at the various businesses before me and wondering how these people existed year after year in this place, decade after decade. How did they survive it without going completely insane? How did transplants survive it without running back to an urban center or somewhere less Scandinavian? Dork Den. Coffee Hag. Tea House. Wagon Wheel Cafe. Pub 500. Plaza after chain after coffee shop after bar after bar after bar. Oh my god, Carol Glasser, how did she do it, dwelling in tundra Mankato surrounded by Trump supporters, university pseudo-intellectuals and strip club sexual predators.

Mankato Memoirs: Homelessness

Seville Minneapolis fired me on a Tuesday night, the night after Labor Day, in 2016. I drove to Perkins in Roseville that night, where I made a list of possible strip clubs to work at next, scanning TUSCL.net for leads. I tried to sleep in my car for a bit, in the Red Roof Inn parking lot where I usually slept if I didn't have enough money for a room. I definitely didn't have enough money for a room that night. I was expecting to make my hotel money and check in after work. I did not expect to be fired. I barely slept on my tiny Toyota Camry seat, and in the morning I headed to the Roseville Caribou Coffee across from Perkins, which opened at 6 AM. Minnesota is so dead and cold and strange in the early morning, and the people are icy nice. I went to the bank that morning after Caribou, to get my money out of savings and pay for a Motel 6 room. I auditioned at Mettler's on that following Thursday, after a good Wednesday night's sleep in Motel 6 and an afternoon audition at Deja Vu.

An hour and a half away from the twin cities, I vaguely knew about Mankato. I had passed through it during country drives, and I had an awareness that an animal rights activist professor, Carol Glasser, taught in the town's university. My GPS was unable to locate the address of the club, so I had to stop at the Perkins in North Mankato, a restaurant I now know so well, to call the club and ask where it was. Jan answered the phone.

“Yes dear, it's right by the City Center Hotel. Just pull up to the Walnut ramp and you'll see it.” She was sweet. She's how I'd imagine one of my late rabbits would be if they were human. I parked on the Walnut ramp and went into Mettler's around 3 PM.

“Oh dear, it's too early to audition,” Jan told me, “Come back at 4:30.”

I returned to Perkins in North Mankato, drinking coffee mixed with vegan protein powder and surfing the internet, for several more hours. Despite irregular sleeping patterns, stressing and worrying, I made sure to look my best in the mirror of the Perkin's bathroom, and returned to Mettler's. I was hired, but Deja Vu also called me by then to tell me I was hired, and I chose to stay at the Vu because there was more money to be made. In hindsight I was better off getting fired from Vu, suing them and returning back to Mettler's, where I stayed until the following Spring.

I was homeless in Mankato. By homeless, I mean that I slept in a few main places-- my vehicle, weekly motel suites and camping grounds. I kept my legal residence at a friend's apartment in Illinois and drove through Wisconsin to check the mail every month or two. I desperately wanted my own apartment in Mankato, and could have afforded one. At various times since 2015, I have suffered homelessness. I have terrible credit and not a lot of proof of income, so it is difficult to rent an apartment on my own. I never know when I am going to be fired from my latest job, so I have been extremely hesitant to sign a binding long-term lease in an area where there are no other strip clubs to fall back on. Searching for month-to-month room rentals on craigslist has usually been the only option for me, and that also has problems. In the past, those problems have included having roommates with a perverse interest in what I do for a living, an insistence on discussing my night work with me and a general lack of respect for my privacy. The flip side to that are people who hate sex workers and would never want to have one as a roommate, or roommates girlfriends who come over and want to kill me for being sexually attractive. All of these factors cause homelessness. I told almost nobody.

The Budget Host Inn and Riverside Suites were right across from one another on highway 169. Riverside was more expensive than Budget, and stank like semen. I hated Riverside and only went there when Budget was full. Budget was run by a kindly Indian couple, who kept their children playing in the back, safe from view or contact with the lunatics who stayed in their rented quarters. I cherished my Budget Host rooms for the safe havens that they were-- cozy and warm and affordable and almost always vacant, waiting for me to enter and stay for a night, a week, a month, watching CNN on a big screen TV and having a maid come in once or twice per week to clean my room and change my linens. There was a one-dollar pop machine in the lobby, and the Perkins where I first stayed at in Mankato was within walking distance of Budget Host. I searched around for other weekly suites in Mankato, but nothing compared to Budget Host Inn, so that is where I spent the majority of my time. Why would I want to go anywhere else? At first I didn't pay the weekly rate, and waited at Perkins until the motel’s audit time had finished at 7 AM and I could check in for two nights, paying only the price of one. In my deranged, early AM, post-work, witching-hour mind, this made complete sense, and the fatigue was totally worth it to sit around at Perkins drinking coffee for hours upon hours after I got off work. I cannot believe I did that, looking back on it. I learned how to wait for the early AM audit at a Motel 6 location in Roseville. Being a homeless stripper is expensive during an unforgiving Minnesota Winter night.

Mankato Memoirs: An Introduction

There was so much to love about living in the town of Mankato, Minnesota. Fate brought me there after Seville in Minneapolis illegally fired me. I worked but one weekend at Mettler’s, before getting at job at Deja Vu in Minneapolis. Several weeks after that, Deja Vu illegally fired me, and I returned to Mankato to go back to work at Mettler’s. I ran out of viable work options in Minneapolis, and was not ready to leave the breathtaking beauty of Minnesota. Surrounding states have dumber people, and I wasn’t ready to deal with them as customers. I wanted to be with Minnesotans. I didn’t like the cities anyway, and was happy to find that Mettler’s is a lucrative place to make money.

This series is not specifically about Mettler’s, nor is it, in any way whatsoever, meant to help or assist others in litigation. Mankato Memoirs are simply an exploration of my experiences that occurred from the Fall of 2016 onward.

Coronapocalypse!

As you can see, the Bernie Sanders banner on this site has been removed. I am no longer campaigning for him. Bumbling Biden will most likely be the contender against Donald Trump. My life and the lives of thousands of strippers has been disrupted by The Kung-Flu, The Shanghai Shivers, The Sino Sneeze, The Beijing Bug, The Wuhan Wheeze, The Lo Mein Pain, The Cantonese Killer, The Szechuan Sore Throat, The Mandarin Malady, The Asian Microinvasion, The Communist Offensive Viral Infectious Disease. This is what happens when wild life is tortured and destroyed by humans. This is what happens when healthcare and basic living expenses are not socialized because the low-IQ citizenry select other candidates besides Bernie Sanders. I am not surprised by any of the COVID-19 events, and have been prepping for it for quite a while, yet I still suffer economically. It is an extraordinarily depressing time to be alive while the coronapocalypse is in full swing and Joe Biden is the democrat front runner.

Many search terms on this site over the past couple of years have been Mettler’s-related. I’ve been meaning to do another series. The next series will not exactly focus on Mettler’s. It will focus on Mankato, Minnesota. As mentioned before, the Mettler’s case resolved.

Until I get the energy to start the next series, here is a playlist I compiled to strip to during this time:

Tool— “Vicarious”

Tori Amos— “Happy Phantom”

Leonard Cohen— “The Future”

A Perfect Circle— “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to The Rhythm of The War Drums”

Tori Amos— “China”

Sublime— “April 29th, 1992”

Tchkung!— “Smash Things Up”

R.E.M.— “It's The End of The World”

The Smiths— “There is A Light That Never Goes Out”

Siouxee and The Banshees— “Hong Kong Garden”

Earth Crisis— “Firestorm”

The Smiths— “Shoplifters of The World Unite”

Gary Jules— “Mad World”

March 17th Primary States

Bernie Sanders still has a shot at winning. Currently most strip clubs are doing business as usual during the coronavirus outbreak. This is because those mislabeled “independent contractors” have no protections or insurance to take care of them during times of crisis. Strip club business is slow. Customers are pushing boundaries more aggressively because they know they could. Workers are coughing, sneezing and eating among one another. Strippers who have babies are unable to find baby essentials because store shelves are empty. There are pregnant and immunocompromised strippers who have no option but to work right now.

Bernie Sanders is the only candidate seriously talking about and planning to change any of this. He has to win these states on St. Patrick’s day. Please come out and vote Tuesday:

Arizona

Illinois

Florida

Ohio

Tennessee Supreme Court Suspends All In-Person Court Proceedings

You can read the order right here.

So far this hasn’t significantly effected my cases. I’m not sure if other states besides the great state of Tennessee have done this. I just received a very apocalyptic email from someone who is knowledgeable. The coronavirus is much more dangerous than our government is letting us know about. If you can, stay home from work please. Either become a hermit or go into the forest, or both. Humanity, particular humans who participate in Chinese “wet markets,” pushed mother nature too far with all them animals they like to torture. God’ll cut you down. Tell ‘em Johnny.

Stripping in The Time of Coronavirus

Not quite like Love in The Time of Cholera, dancing for customers can make one nauseous and unsettled even without coronavirus. Most strip clubs are still up and running right now, despite the virus shutting down the NBA and other entertainment venues. Some clubs have bottles of hand sanitizer everywhere; some don’t. Some clubs have soap in the bathrooms and working toilets; some don’t. Some clubs have pole cleaner; some don’t. Some clubs have security staff that enforces no-touching rules; some don’t. If you are a prepper stripper, you could pay your rent ahead of time, eat your emergency food, wash with your emergency soap and not leave your bedroom. Take up webcamming if you’re tech savvy. Move to the woods if you have outdoor survival skills. If you don’t have those options and must stay in the strip club, desperately squeezing twenty dollar bills out of the lonely few customers who stream in, I’m sorry. Customers often feel they can push a dancer’s boundaries when business is slower. I’m sorry we live in a society that will not take care of our emergency needs. Sex workers will likely be the last people who the government will protect. That is why we must be strong and independent in all aspects of life. Just know that I love you more than regular people, and I am rooting for you all during these difficult times.

Let this virus be a lesson to omnivores or SJW-oriented individuals. It is completely appropriate to criticize people who eat dead body parts, particularly ones that come from fucking disgusting Chinese “wet markets.”

If I could ask Bernie Sanders a question right now, I would ask him to clarify if this flier applies to strippers:

BERNING DOWN THE HOUSE

My Bernie Bros and Sanders Sisters, I beg of you, come out to vote today— Michiganders in particular. Michigan has the most delegates to win, and is the most crucial state.

Michiganders are some of my favorite Americans. The rich history of the Hillbilly Highway, Dixieland diaspora and automotive industry people who joined unions is culturally fascinating. It is a raw, genuine, intelligent aura that these Michiganders emit.

A strip club mogul named Harry Mohney and many vile, prominent strip club lawyers familiar with this website are headquartered in Michigan. They don’t deserve to conduct business as they do, robbing poor women of their labor rights.

Trump won Michigan in 2016 not because the voters are bad people, but because capitalist pieces of shit like the Clinton family support NAFTA, call certain Michigan residents deplorable, and do not care about their futures. Bernie Sanders does care about your future though.

SO LET’S DO THIS.

PILLAGE WHOLE FOODS. ROB THE RICH. BERN DOWN THE WHITE HOUSE.

CRITICAL WEEK AHEAD

IDAHO

MICHIGAN

MISSISSIPPI

MISSOURI

NORTH DAKOTA

WASHINGTON

These are the states with primaries on Tuesday. Don’t you want a Green New Deal? Don’t you want healthcare, childcare, and free college? Joe Biden is a senile, bumbling pervert who doesn’t want to improve your economic situation and who doesn’t think women should have control over their own bodies. His campaign hides him from the media because he lacks the cognitive ability to engage. Donald Trump will comedically destroy him in a debate. Bernie Sanders is the opposite of that. Please make sure to vote for Bernie Sanders on Tuesday.

Will You Make Calls for Bernie?

You can click here to get started on making calls to voters.

Making calls is a lot of fun once you get the hang of the calling system. All you need is a computer and phone. Bernie’s campaign is about much more than just one person. It’s a movement for the people, a movement funded by millions of volunteers and donors instead of evil disgusting corporations and super PACs. It’s a movement toward socialism and taking care of one another. Bernie cannot win without volunteers and voters though, so sign up for a few shifts. Bring a group with you when you vote in the primary.

Bernie Sanders becoming president will make it much easier for workers to unionize, for women to afford childcare, for women to receive equal pay for equal work, for people to attend college without going into debt, for the sick and dying to receive medical care. Many of these issues directly relate to reasons why so many women become strippers in the first place, and why exploitative club owners, staff and customers know they can take advantage of strippers within the workplace. He is the most feminist candidate.

Please make calls for Bernie today.

Creepy Biden

Here are all the times Biden was accused of acting inappropriately toward women and girls.

Goddamn do I hate this dude. This is the type of behavior that could get him thrown out of certain strip clubs.

Super Tuesday

Today is Super Tuesday. Many states will have their primary vote today. You can click here to find your polling place.

Bernie Sanders has spent his entire life advocating on behalf of the poor and marginalized, and will continue to do so for the rest of his life. With his help, we can make our world a better place.

Will You Donate to Bernie Sanders?

Will My Readers Click Here and Donate to Bernie’s Campaign?

I really hope Bernie Sanders wins the primary election. I won’t be voting for any other candidate if he does not win, just like I didn’t vote for any other candidate in 2016 after Bernie’s win was rigged and hijacked. In fact, I don’t ever vote for presidents and hate shitlib shills. I’d rather stay home trolling than vote for someone besides Bernie Sanders. I don’t appreciate being called deplorable, or encountering most genocidal leftists. Of course, I do not like misogyny or capitalism either. Bernie is a very special though. We don’t agree on everything, but I love him enough to vote for him, even as I do not want a commander-in-chief at all. He is absolutely precious and I believe he will relieve suffering of women, working class people and strippers fighting for their labor rights.

Country Rock Cabaret

VCG is the evil corporation being sued in a class action based out of Colorado. They have brothel-type clubs in Sauget, IL. One of them used to be a PT’s. However, the name switched to Country Rock Cabaret. When it switched, legal ownership might’ve switched somehow. Country Rock Cabaret can’t be included in the class action against VCG. However, I have strong reason to believe it is owned by the same VCG people. I need my readers to help me out with this. How was VCG able to change the names of some of their clubs and cause them to be immune from the VCG class action? What kind of asset protection plan did they unleash? It is a mystery that I am still trying to solve. How did slime ball Troy Lowry manage to shield his disgusting dens of sexual assault in the East St. Louis area? Does anyone know?

Recent News in Stripper Rights

— Scores strip club got sued for trafficking a disabled child.

— Fur hag Jennifer Lopez did an ugly superbowl performance and Elle Stanger wrote a Huffpost article about it.

— A misclassified stripper in Texas has become famous for breaking her jaw during a pole trick and not getting workman’s compensation.