Would you please bite my ear?  Why I hate strip clubs  One thing
you should know about cops and bachelor-party strippers: they
don't mix. I reached this rash conclusion the night before my
buddy, who is now a sheriff's deputy, got hitched years ago.  As
a bunch of us guys formed a semicircle in the best man's living
room, a much-better-looking-than-expected stripper in a cop's
uniform entered, toting a boom box. The first thing she did was
recite a list of ground rules. No touching, no tonguing, etc.
She concluded by making it quite clear that she had a beefy
bouncer waiting in the car.  She placed the Man of the Hour
"under arrest," flipped on the music and started gyrating.
Suddenly, one of the groom-to-be's new cop colleagues said
something degrading, like, "Ooo, baby, you're so fine I want to
cut your arms, legs and head off and make sweet, sweet love to
your blood-oozing stump."  Though she had not covered this in
the ground rules, saying you want to cut the arms, legs and head
off a much-better-looking-