Only in Florida: Are We At Rock Bottom Yet?

In my weekly column Only in Florida, I'll be taking you down to the Sunshine State for the latest and greatest sex stories that can only be found in the craziest state in the union.

Let's say that next weekend, you're going to be in Pompano Beach, a likely scenario for at least some of you reading this column. Well, if you find yourself in Pompano next Saturday and you begin thinking to yourself, "Hey, maybe I'll drop by the Crazy Horse and see what the score is," stop. Stop that immediately.

I don't know what Mama June is going to be doing at Crazy Horse, and I don't care. I get that it's becoming increasingly hard to stay in the public spotlight when your reality show ends and interest mysteriously dries up in the case of you dating a kid diddler, but this is a categorically absurd way to get attention.

Allow me to clarify my position here, since I can already see where you're going with this. My anger over this has nothing to do with the fact that heavy set women shouldn't strip. If you've got it, flaunt it, and there's no indication she's going to be stripping anyway. This has everything to do with this woman's reputation being inserted into a business where average people's livelihoods are on the line. Life is hard enough for the women that work at this place, and to take money making time away from them to celebrate a woman who's only discernible talent is that she has an adorable daughter is just appalling. The club's owner is free to do whatever he likes, but this is a low blow to the women who work at his club. 

If you are in Pompano next weekend, may I recommend The Booby Trap? It's no Watts Club Mozambique, but they do have printable coupons. That's something, right?

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