Travis LaFrance
At Home in the Halls of Power

Lap Dance for Democracy, Part 2

Read Part One!

I stepped into the dance chamber and was surprised by what I found. Laps of both genders were arranged in folding chairs up against the wall, and the dancers were also co-ed, and fully-clothed.

"Here's your ticket," said a girl with nose ring, pressing something into my hand. It read Your lap is mine.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Go upstairs and find someone you like. Bring her down here and give her a lap dance."

Ain't that the problem with liberals? Who else could take good old-fashioned sexploitation and turn it into some sort of gender-neutral politically-correct you-dance-my-lap-I'll-dance-yours sort of hooey.

And besides, they just saw this whole undertaking as a chance to get hip-to-hip with Travis LaFrance—with yours truly footing the bill. Not so fast, League of Pissed-Off Voters. I'm already swamped with indiscreet propositions. And if I had to contribute seven dollars to left-leaning activists each time some liberated tigress wanted to see my pelvis up close—well, let's just say I'd be broke and the Republicans would be in trouble.

But then, maybe that's just the sort of fundraising scheme we need. Send all inquiries and proposals to travislafrance AT travislafrance DOT com.