Quantity and quality
Nobody knows the exact count of clubs, because you have to consider certain people’s homes if we’re being fair, but it’s safe to say more than 30. You’re never far from one, whether you’re Downtown (Magic City!), in Buckhead (Pink Pony!), Norcross (Oasis!), Decatur (Pin-Ups!), Stone Mountain (Strokers!), Chamblee (Follies!), Midtown (Cheetah!), Southwest Atlanta (Blue Flame!), or even Lithia Springs (Club Babes!). Let’s compare that to Portland, where there are supposedly 50 or more strip clubs. Some people might argue that this matters, and that a weird, Pacific Northwest thong of a city defeats ATL in the proverbial pole-fight for the crown. Ha! HAHAHA! No. Those people are wrong.
I understand why Portland would need lots of strip clubs. That speaks more about the level of depression Portland has to guard against developing due to life in Oregon. Apparently there’s even a vegan strip club in Portland! As if that shit’s even cool. If you’re there for any other reason than to look at what Soulja Boy calls “Booty Meat,” you’re clearly in the wrong place. Portland is famous for Nike, craft beer, irony, and decent beards, not booty. If Portland, or other cities that reportedly have more strip clubs per capita than Atlanta (Tampa, Miami... Fayetteville, NC for God’s sake) actually had strip clubs as phenomenal as ATL, they’d have a culture that the rest of us would’ve heard about by now. But you don’t hear about that hot new dance coming out of Portland. You don’t remember that wild rapper from Tampa, because Tampa rappers can’t get strippers to dance to their music. And while Miami is the next best thing, you still have spots down there where you can’t even get a lap dance outside VIP, and with cover charges hovering around $50, you can bet how much more that’s going to run you. All for what? Blue balls. That’s what.
It ain’t about some per capita sum of strip clubs. I can tell you, as a native of Huntsville, Alabama, that Huntsville has a handful of strip clubs, and the locals LOVE them. That doesn’t make a single one of them good. I remember walking into a Huntsville strip club years ago, and the first thing I saw after passing security was a disproportionately large exotic shoe-model, sitting on a circular counter stool with her back to me, consuming an entire pizza. For self. The moral? Never assume that numerous strip clubs in a weird city is a good thing. And never do strip clubs in Huntsville.