There has been much concern here in Baltimore in recent months because apparently Baltimore Vice (a show on the CW network) got ants in their pants and raided and closed down most of the whorehouses that I go to in town.
Why be concerned? This is a sign of America's decline because of Obama. These whorehouses had been part of our landscape (activity involving rakes and dirt) here in The Greater Baltimore Area Including the Harbor and now they are closed down. Is it just because Baltimore Vice needed a ratings push? I went to the grave of Stringer Bell to see if I could find any answers. When he was alive he often gave wise counsel that I never followed. He also taught me how to use a Xerox machine.
Is it more than just antsy cops? Stringer Bell's disembodied voice encouraged me to think more broadly and to think about something called "the big picture" which is apparently very large. Stringer told me that I should look at problems in the management structure of these whorehouses, who was really running the show, and to follow the money. Stringer's advice intrigued me, so I got into my Pontiac (American made car) and hired a private investigator (which is not the same as an alligator despite the two words ending with the same five letters. Weird.)
He encouraged me to sit with him and listen to a song by a band called Dire Straits called "Private Investigations." The music was intriguing and mysterious and the words had some kind of meaning.
Confidential information
It's in a diary
This is my investigation
It's not a public inquiry
That was the answer! We would find the information Stringer Bell recommended we look for in a diary! This song was filled with secrets! I was hard as a rock. My private investigator and I went together in his Chrysler (American made car) to the area around the whorehouses and began looking for a diary. After searching the woods for ten minutes we decided it was fruitless and went back to his office to listen to the song in the hopes it would contain more answers.
I go checking out the report
Digging up the dirt
Motherfucker that was it! The diary was buried somewhere near the whorehouses. We'd only be looking at the surface variables like good mathematician (a word I am unable to spell correctly even with help from an adult). We went back to the general area around the whorehouses with shovels. I had Chopper and his new associate from his bike club whose name I haven't learned yet (also no background information yet on file because I can't be bothered with "new people") get in the stolen school bus (some kids were still inside but it was handled) and get us some free laborers from the streets. We let them choose from a wide selection of drugs I have taken from the sick and weak in my small business operation after they are done. Some are greedy but it is handled.
We did find a book but it was called The Last of the Mohicans. We weren't sure if this was the diary or not. We went back to the private investigator's office to listen to more of the song (which was on a cassette so we could pause it when leaping into action and this is something you cannot do with CDs). There had to be more information that could help the case.
Treachery and treason
There's always an excuse for it
And when I find the reason
I still can't get used to it
The problem was now clear. Treachery was involved so I grabbed a letter opener off the private investigator's desk and stabbed him in the heart. There was no way I was getting used to treachery the very notion makes me dog vomit.
And what have you got at the end of the day ?
What have you got to take away ?
A bottle of whisky and a new set of lies
blinds on the window and a pain behind the eyes
I could not believe it. These words were speaking to me.. What did I have at the end of the day? I was alone with no woman to put my red wiggler in and sometimes I needed to be held at night, like when I was so afraid that Hillary would become president that I made a small poop in my night outfit. That was a time when I needed the warm, comforting touch of a woman.
Scarred for life
No compensation
Private investigations
This was true because I was scarred and I could feel all the stabbing that had been done to my body over the years. I developed severe stomach problems and ate over 5 million Tums during the presidency of Jimmy Carter in the 1980s. A disk slipped in my back when Bill Clinton was elected in 2000. And then one time it looked like they might elect the first Democrat ever in Maryland I had a stroke (took care of it myself without medical assistance because I am not needy I am a man). All of these personal attacks made against me over the years, the abuse I took as a result of these demons being elected, was nothing compared to the prolapsed rectum issue that developed when Kenyan gang kingpin Obama took over in a miltary coup. Goddammit.
All this was interesting but this is an essay about the death of slutty retail which is an issue that needed to be addressed now that President Trump has resolved all problems worldwide and domestic with his ever expanding brain. I thought I had an expanding brain like his but found out from a guy in a bar that what I have is brain tinglers which are small otherworldly worms that try to burrow out of your brain through your skull (which is hard).
Slutty retail is something much needed because high end prostitutes are unreasonably costly. I do not like paying more than ten dollars for oral sex and without the retail trade the cost to me personally skyrockets. There are people concerned about health care costs (take fucking care of yourselves assholes - doctors are nothing but parasites), but rising costs in the sex trade is a far more immediate concern. Not everyone can afford to spend thousands of dollars to sleep with a beautiful woman. I have a burlap bag in case of emergencies but I never quite make it to the act because somehow I get to a climax before I even take my pants off and to pay thousands of dollars for that kind of thing is outrageous and shouldn't be tolerated.
What are our options? Slick Willie looked at my draft and said I need to tell you that those lyrics are copyright belonging to the band Dire Straits or the record label so you can go and look that information up on the internet.
Finding options for slutty retail can be a daunting task. What is our best approach?
Ease of Access
In today's modern world of quick and convenient solutions to problems you can seriously damage your business model by making it a hassle for customers to access the product. You can usually tell by looking at a person if they are straight or not so if you think a guy is straight then let him into the showroom. Give the customer options but don't aggravate him by throwing a bunch of biograpical information on the whores or asking them to sign a lot of forms and sign up for a whorehouse credit card. These men have come to get their groove on so don't harsh the mellow (internet kiddie term). Don't ask them to fill out forms or tell them how the blonde grew up in an abusive household. All that is a turn-off for customers.
As a saleman of damn near fifty years I can tell you that the upsell is important. You want the customer to spend more that he wanted to spend so if he wants to spend fifteen dollars on boffing Doris the sixty year old clown try to get him to spend twenty-five on the blonde, but don't hassle him. He might be into that whole clown thing and God be with him as he struggles with that.
Better Business Model
Some of these whorehouses need a better business model. They need to modernize for a changing market. People want shit and they want it right now. Give it to them (as long as they have money and are dressed appropriately) and give it to them immediately. Provide quality service. Why not offer the gentleman seeking companionship a cup of coffee or at least a goddamned glass of water. I can't tell you when the last time I got so much as that when visiting a whorehouse. Don't just throw the customer into a room with a plain mattress and some sickly looking person. Make them feel at home. Buy an Oriental rug and some quality artwork. Black velvet paintings have no place in a place of business and wash the walls from time to time.
Hire some businessmen to run the place instead of sketchy people with tattoos and bad haircuts. I have five dollars. Give me what I deserve for my hard earned money. I am a taxpayer.
Junk Bonds
Sell junk bonds on the side and use that to raise quick capital to expand your business beyond what is needed to meet the needs of your customer. Build a playland for the kids of men who told their wives they were "taking the kid to the ball game." Sell them junk bonds when they are not paying attention to what you are saying. Force them into writing you an uncancellable check while one of your whores has his cock in a death grip and it is starting to turn white. Make as much profit as you can and spend it on yachts. They are nice to have.
Know Your Market
Men are horny and it is no longer legal to dry hump random women in bars. You need to meet this now unmet need of the straight white male race. We are being targeted. We have erections and need to do something with them. Understand that and you will underastand the market. Don't rely on people who just drive by your place to come in and know what you are offering. Promote your business in a smart fashion. Have a raffle. Have special theme days where all the whores dress up like barnyard animals and make appropriate sounds. People love this stuff. Take photos. Threaten to show said photos to their families if they don't come back once a week. Repeat customers are important. Make sure they know that.
Now that all of America's big problems have been resolved we need to move on with these matters. Visit your local whorehouse and talk to them about developing a better business model and let them know about the options. They will thank you for it.
My friends.