The hubby went to Vegas this weekend for some Dude time and poker. When I think of Vegas, I think of slots, sluts, and slits. I’ve been to Vegas more times than I can conceivably count, but there are certain guarantees that will be met in a single trip to Vegas. First, there will be debauchery. Perhaps not from you, but you will certainly witness people engaged in behavior that mommy and daddy would not be terribly proud of. Second, lots of money will be exchanged. Perhaps you like to gamble, in which case the odds of you being on the receiving end of that money exchange will be low. Perhaps you like to frequent the red light district, just off the strip. Here too, the odds of you being on the receiving end of that money exchange will be low, unless, of course, you decide to allow HBO to film you while you are on your Bunny Ranch tryst—again, mummy and daddy won’t be so proud.
And alas, this brings me to the point of this post. JT (the non-Timberlake JT) alerted me to this article in Time. I can already envision him giggling as he read this article entitled, “From Bangkok to Berlin, Hard Times Hit the Sex Trade.” The writers of this article used some choice language in discussing the financial woes of the world’s prostitutes, e.g. discussing prostitutes being “laid off,” noting that the “world’s oldest profession isn’t about to take the recession lying down,” and describing ways to “stimulate business.” Given that this is Time magazine, and not the Onion, I imagine that the writers deliberately, but covertly, tried to insert this ambiguous language to give the dirty minds of the world something to giggle about.
There is one promotion discussed in the article that hit me hard. Apparently, Berlin’s Pussy Club “charges guests a $98 flat rate for six hours of unlimited sex, access to a sauna and solarium and an all-you-can-eat buffet.” Like whoa. Basically, for just over $16 an hour, you get sexy time, sauna time, solarium time, and stuffed time. How the hell can a place like this actually grow profits with prices like this? After some thought, I realized what the Pussy Club was up to. The Pussy Club was leveraging an analogous trick used by casinos all over the world. Allow me to explain.
In virtually every casino (at least in the US), if you gamble, you get free liquor. Now, the concept of free liquor is quite enticing to anyone, especially considering the fact that a single Sex on the Beach (the drink) can easily cost you $10 in Vegas—and that’s with the make-you-vomit, squirt bottle, well vodka. So even if you’re not inclined to gamble, perhaps the thought of not paying for your crappy beverages will suffice to entice you to the epilepsy-inducing floor. Alas, however, one should realize that the casinos are not exactly being philanthropic in their free alcohol offerings. To the contrary, the alcohol not only induces additional gambling (meaning extra profits), but it also induces stupidity. And if you’ve ever seen a Girls Gone Wild commercial (or Joe Francis), you’ll know what I mean. And guess what? Stupid people lose more money!
So what’s the analogous plan in the sex business, you ask? The buffet! Free food is incredibly enticing, no matter how bad the food is. Just ask any of my college roommates about our weekend trips to Costco, where we gorged ourselves on such health-conscious dishes such as Bagel Bites, Teriyaki Chicken Wings, and Costco pound cake. After about round 3, we were fat and full. After loading up Timmy (the van that could) with groceries, we headed home and immediately fell asleep on the couch, drooling in our food coma stupor. The Pussy Club is essentially engaging in the same type of plan. Give patrons free food—and lots of it. Because guess what?
Drunk people are too stupid to win; and
Stuffed people are too full to f*#@.
So Barney Stinson, avoid the buffet. It will only hamper your Rico Suave moves.
Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!!!