Stories of debauchery from a San Francisco strip club DJ. It's fairly well written. It confirms most of what you suspected about DJs -- drug addicts / drug dealers, will have sex with anything with a pulse, and then thinks that you are one who's the pathetic loser, etc, etc. This book did nothing to alter my opinion that strip club DJs are oxygen thieves. But at least this particular oxygen thief has a some talent as a writer, I gotta give him that much. That's probably because he's a Michigan native who attended U of M before moving to the west coast. And he's got an amusing story about sneaking into the Saginaw Déjà Vu, underage with a fake id.
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Honestly he confirmed my belief that the typical club DJ could be replaced by a well selected playlist of edited songs. He and the dancers are playing all these mind games but the real money is going on in the private dance booths. So he plays Barry Manilow for the guys who didn't take the special but the guys who did take the special are getting lap dances to Barry Manilow and are certainly not going to want to get extra dances after that! Ditto for punishing the dancers with seven minute songs, wasting the time of the dancers in the private booths.
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