"People see his movies and get the know-how, they get the ideas"

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The first stripper came out and she had tattoos, dirty bare feet and a mild paunch. As she did her act, she completely ignored the audience and instead carried on a loud conversation with her girlfriend who was waiting for her in the back of the theater. "Hey, Crystal," she yelled in a thick Baltimore accent into the darkness. "We goin' over to Sylvia's? Get some beer!" "Yeah," hollered Crystal, "I got it. Hurry up. We're supposed to be there." "All right, already. I'm not off yet. I can't leave 'til ten," she growled back, all the while gyrating obscenely for the pitifully sparse audience. Finally through, she made a quick exit and was replaced by another "talent" I soon realized was dead drunk. She could barely walk, would stand there confused, mumbling incoherently, struggling to unbutton her outfit. Finally nude, she staggered precariously close to the edge of the stage and apparently got the whirlies. The two old men up front hastily retreated to the safety of the third or fourth row. Suddenly, the manager stormed into the theater and started screaming, "Okay, Tammy, you're fired! I told you not to go on! Pack up and get out!" Tammy stood there confused, finally comprehended, gave him the finger and promptly fell off the stage, passed out cold. "Jesus Christ Almighty," yelled the manager as he rushed to the front of the theater and tried to drag out her dead weight. I joined the other few gentlemen who were running for the exits