Not sure if you heard, but the Super Bowl's coming to Miami. Since the Dolphins didn't make it, we care nothing about the on-field contest. Far more intriguing is the galaxy of debauchery that will be descending on our innocent city for the big weekend -- including almost a thousand strippers from around the country.
We must try to keep our composure during this baby-oil-and-g-string invasion. And nobody knows more about South Florida strip club etiquette than retired rapper Ricky "Disco Rick" Taylor, formerly the leader of the pioneering Miami hip-hop group The Dogs. These days, he's the "talent manager" (read: stripper-wrangler) at the colossal King of Diamonds club in Miami Gardens, which caters to pro athletes and rappers, and features a basketball court and barbershop on premises.
Whether the dollar bills you're planning on tossing onto gyrating honeys come from that sneaker deal you just signed with Converse or your Arby's paycheck, there's no need to appear an amateur at the club. With our apologies to a certain national men's magazine for stealing the format, heed Disco Rick's sage advice, as told in his own words:
There is sex in the Champagne Room. There's not supposed to be. What we don't know about, we don't give a fuck.
The number one rule is do not come to the strip club if your baby mama's dancing. That never ends well. We're gonna throw you out and her out.
Half of the National Football League lives in Miami. All of the Miami players are going to want to show their teammates, "This is how we do in Miami." Santana Moss, Reggie Wayne, Andre Johnson, Sinorice Moss, Chad Ochocinco. And after the Super Bowl Weekend, everybody's off for six months. This is the last day of school.
This is the biggest weekend in strip club history in South Florida.
One of the biggest things we ask guys not to do is hold up their camera phone. Disco Rick sees you do that, we have a problem.
That could lead to us having a Pacman Jones situation. On any given night during the Super Bowl Weekend, there could be 200 pro football players here. And most of them have wives or girlfriends at home.
We expect 400 to 500 girls per night during the Super Bowl Weekend, coming from all over the country. Our regular roster is 80. Mo' girls, mo' problems.
We're the guards of the prison, and the strippers are the prisoners. You have to remember, they're drunk too.
When a dancer tells security that she gave you twelve dances, and you say she gave you six, who are we going to believe -- her drunk ass or your drunk ass? Her drunk ass.
The second rule is don't ever hand a stripper a large amount of money to get you your singles. Nine times out of ten, she's not coming back.
Please ask how much each dance costs before you have a girl dance on you for twenty songs.
The top performers make $400,000 to $800,000 a year. I've seen one girl make $28,000 in a night. Her name is Tip Drill. She's more like a Cirque du Soleil performer than a stripper. She climbs up on that tall-ass pole using her thighs. Then she slides upside down headfirst lightning fast and puts on the brakes when her head is two inches from the ground. I look away. It's just: 'Oh, fuck, I hope that drink don't kick in.'
It all started with drunk cowboys in the Western days. They would go to the saloons and have sex upstairs with the prostitutes in the hotel rooms. What happened is the girls became the big shit--the saloon would lose money because the cowboys were too busy with the girls to drink at the bar. So somebody said, 'Let's entertain the guys without having them leave the bar."
Without the bar, the strip club is nothing. Without the girls, the bar is nothing.
Come to think of it, we still make a lot of our money from drunk Cowboys. And Dolphins.
Our making it rain policy is this: We tell you not to throw money all over the customers. And not to throw money on girls who are not working as strippers.
If you're a customer and money falls on your head, just throw it to the ground. Or, to be courteous, throw it towards the dancers. If you put it in your pocket, I'll cut the music.
If you got invited to the White House, would you light up a joint inside? So why would you light one up when you're invited into my house? Nuh-huh. No fucking way. I'll cut off the music.
The guy who nurses a Coke? He has to go home early.
Florida is not all-nude. Miami, and parts of Ft. Lauderdale, are the only places where it's all nude. You will see no little stickers on tits here.
We don't want to put anything in the free buffet that everybody really wants. That's what the menus for. So, no shrimp.
Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, beans, and corn. Those are the things we can't mess up. Meatloaf, if available.
A free buffet is just to fill your stomach so you can keep drinking.
Once you throw up, you're escorted out. And we take your keys. You have to call somebody to pick you up, or we'll take your phone and call for you.
Whoever's been calling you the most, that's who we call. That could be your wife or your girlfriend.
Donte Stallworth changed everything. We're asking that all celebrities and athletes take a cab to the club. We will pick you up in a nice golf cart and take you to the front door.
We ask that you change your money into singles at a bank, before coming to the club. But if you don't we can take care of it with a credit card.
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We have guys coming in with members of their entourage carrying $25,000 in singles in duffel bags. Then the girls jump off of whoever they're dancing on.
Liquor and pussy is a fucking stick of dynamite. Nothing is going to go smooth. But we will be on top of every little thing. And hopefully after we throw out one guy, the other guy a few tables down says, 'Actually, I don't feel like getting throwed out tonight. That was some embarassing shit I just saw.'
We want you to behave like you was out with your parents.
We're providing a fantasy world. Don't get caught up in the illusion.