Amazing.
I don’t know what is worse. Bad Karaoke, or a bad pole dancing class. Actually, I do. I lied. The latter wins, hands down. Don’t get me wrong, I have seen some atrocious Karaoke. Working as an exotic dancer on Guam (only “mainlander” peeps say “in” an island) back in the 90′s, back when American girls were contracted to dance at clubs predominantly as barkers in order to lead the customers into traps for the Korean hookers, yeah, I saw some disturbing Karaoke. The prominent Japanese tourist, omitting his L’s and R’s, attempting to mimic his best Robert Plant, while reading from the hovering television at the top of his lungs; “…It’s been a wong time since I wok and woll-olled…”, yeah, it’s melted forever into my memory. The difference is, I was paid more than substantially to listen to this racket, while as, frighteningly, people, now, and regularly, actually pay to take a bad pole dancing class. This is shocking, and blatantly appalling to me.
