I recently had occasion to visit a strip club. It wasn't my idea - an acquaintance of mine wanted to go, because she'd never been to one before. Why, you ask, need I clarify that it wasn't my idea? Because I don't like strip clubs. It's not because it's beneath me; granted, I am a snob and many things ARE beneath me, but that is not the reason in this case. In the general scheme of things, there is nothing in my mind wrong with visiting somewhere solely for the entertainment value gorgeous naked women present.

Anyway, me and my acquaintance arrived on the scene and had a seat. Tall, beautiful women in lingerie and less paraded by on all sides. I gave a few some glancing over - I have a weakness for women with tattoos - but nothing too thorough. I should note football (Hawaii v Boise St.) was a distraction, too, as it was being shown on a large plasma-screen hung from a wall nearby.

The girl I'd come with just looked awkward. She'd been scared to come in - things of the sexual nature tend to make her nervous, though her curiosity often gets the best of her nonetheless. She didn't say much the whole time, but she did ask one thing: why I seemed a bit indifferent. I didn't have a spectacular answer at the time, but a good metaphor came to mind as I was driving yesterday.

Imagine a friend of yours walks up and says, "Hey, I know where there's a billion dollars on display. We can cruise on down there, look at it, and pay some money so we can pretend we're spending it for about three minutes at a time!"

Look, I appreciate good looking women as much as I'd appreciate a billion dollars in cash. But it's not so exciting to look and imagine, knowing the whole time that I'm not going to be able to "spend" that "cash" that's in my face right now, you know what I'm sayin?