This place has really hit the...

This place has really hit the skids. The air conditioner has been broken for about four weeks, although they're still advertising that they're doing business as usual. This is Jackson, Mississippi, in August, people! The digital sign at my bank said "11" yesterday. That's right, "11." That means either 111, or 110, degrees Farenheit on the frontage road blacktop. It's so hot the bank thermometer ran out of digits! Hey Danny! You can't run an indoor business without air conditioning! You go in there and it smells like a stale beer bottle because they aren't cleaning and the air isn't really circulating. There are still the two or three regular dancers, still (I suspect) delighted that they're the queen bees, satisfied to reign in Hell rather than be reigned in some other place. And they're not bad looking, Gypsy and Ashley and the others, though it's strictly no-contact. And the weird Af-Am house mother who is always stoned when she's up front taking the cover charge, not getting your jokes and looking at you (and just all around in general) blankly, telling you to sit back down young man as though you're a sixth grader? What's UP with that? No matches at the bar, ATM broken, air (as I said) sweltering, what a screwy place. Seems very dangerous to get involved in this organization. I won't be going back. It's been weaker than Babes, consistently; now it's just on its way out.