Santa Spotted at Coopersburg Swing Club

I suppose you've all heard by now that Silhouette Showbar, normally a respectable strip club in Coopersburg, has "blindsided" borough officials by converting to a swing club on Saturday nights.

Shocking!

The borough manager is doing everything he can to make sure those in need of lap dances don't go elsewhere.

I decided to check it out Saturday night, purely for investigative purposes, but the bastards at the door wouldn't let me in. They didn't like my partner, Sexy Sylvia, an inflatable doll I picked up recently at a yard sale in Upper Macungie. I'm sorry, but that's discrimination!

Sylvia and I jumped back in my jeep and I was just ready to leave when suddenly I heard sleighbells ringing and a loud, "Ho, ho, ho. Where are the hoes?"

Damned if wasn't Santa Claus! The jolly old elf parked his sled in the handicapped spot right in front of me, hung one of those stupid wheelchair placards over his reins, and hopped off, smelling of cheap gin and tobacco. His date? Rudolph! And Rudolph's nose isn't the only thing that glows in the dark.

Saint Nick had an assortment of leather boots, belts and whips in his sled, and I have no frickin' idea what was in his bag.

Have you ever seen Santa up close and personal? It's no wonder he scares the hell out of kids. First, he stinks, although he blames that on the reindeer. His long beard? He's just too lazy to shave. His sled is littered with old McDonalds bags and candy wrappers. And his bright red coat is full of cigarette burns and foodstains. He's a heart attack waiting to happen and should have keeled over several hundred years ago.

Several months ago, I told you Santa had drowned when he and an entire team of reindeer slipped through the North Pole's thinning ice. Another victim of global warming. But the elf's girth apparently enabled him to pop up like a bobber, and he was fished out of the drink by Inuit who mistook him for a walrus.

"Come on, Rudy, let's find out who's been naughty and who's been nice," said Santa as he pranced into the swingers' club, with Rudolph scampering behind him. Santa gave me a little wink as he strutted by, saying, "You're lucky this is my week for reindeer."

That frickin' pervert spends all those nights looking in kids' windows and now I see this. He belongs on Megan's list.