The Lonely, Totally Not Nude Temptations Protest

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By PETER RUGG

The Pitch — along with, apparently, every other media outlet in town — received an e-mail Tuesday for a free family portrait by photographer Michael T. Van De Carr at Temptations, a strip club downtown on Grand.

So this afternoon, I was joined by the Ginger Man and a resident women’s objectification expert – we’ll call her Cassandra — to scout the downtown gentlemen’s club. By the appointed time of 12:30, there were only a few, lightly perspiring men in dark suits waving placards with random slogans — and no one had taken the bait for free photos. There was one tall man with a fat digital camera, though unfortunately, he carried no Olan Mills-style backdrops. Disheartened, we got a table at Willie’s, where we could lean out the long, open windows and wait for something to happen.

Not much did, except for a circle jerk involving the local TV-news crews that did show up and a waxing crowd of the anti-strip-club crowd (captured in the photo below).

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But no one except The Pitch, with this blog item, actually publicized the event beforehand. And even we were only a few hours ahead. So it seems reasonable that few Temptations regulars even knew about the sting.

By 1 p.m., the crowd started to disperse. We’d expected them to go at least an hour or at least wait for someone to come to the club. Cassandra and I jumped through the window and ran toward the crowd, holding hands so that they might assume we were a couple.

“I don’t want to be respected!” she said. “And how about the First Amendment?”

“I love watching tities! Let’s go watch some tits!” I said.

Unfortunately, they didn’t tell us about the error of our ways or offer to take a picture. Maybe it’s because we didn’t have a child with us. One man did tell us to have a blessed day, though.

We did go into Temptations to see if they’d barricaded themselves in, like the losing side in the last days of a war waiting out the artillery shells. But aside from one Amazonian bartender, a waitress and a security guard near the stage, the place was empty. There wasn’t even a dancer performing. Next door at the Cigar Box, the hostess told us the Christians had been taking photos of people’s parked cars and shots of the drivers getting out when they could. Perhaps they’ll be circulated later on a Web site, to shame them for parking within 30 feet of a place that, later today, will feature topless women.

“It’s all right though,” the hostess told us. “We just put on the music really loud and blasted them out. They left pretty soon.”

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