Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

Now here's a guy who's innovative with his awesome retro basement:

Welcome to Club Thunderbolt, the strangest place in the city to get a lap dance. It's located in the back room of an old house in an east side neighborhood of working class bungalows.

"Everybody in the neighborhood knows what I do," says Jay Thunderbolt, the 45-year-old club owner, homeowner, house mom and house DJ. "In the summertime you got all these girls leaving wearing four ounces of clothing, so they kind of get what's going on."

Thunderbolt doesn't need a cabaret license like other Detroit strip clubs must have. The city ordinance regulating other places doesn't apply, because it's not a bar serving liquor or food, but rather a private arrangement in a private home. To him it's like having a strip-o-gram sent to your own house.

And this part of the article pretty much sums up my life philosophy:

"I tell everybody, 'This is what I'm gonna do. Don't be freakin' out.'"

Holy crap, next time I visit the in-laws in suburban Detroit, I hope we can hit up Thunderbolt's home strip club. Check out his harpoon on the wall in that picture. Man, I gotta get one of those for my place. I'm slippin'.

What do you think, can you picture bouncing tits and grinding asses amongst my cow skull, nautical paraphernalia, and bitters collection? I guess that could be a fall-back if my export business goes by the wayside. I'm sure Katie won't care, and Elliot loves bare boobs, so I'm sure it would be cool with him too.