By Ray Downs
By Lindsay Toler
By Danny Wicentowski
By Lindsay Toler
By RFT Staff
By Lindsay Toler
By Allison Babka
By Lindsay Toler
"Big dog," Unreal whispers to the security guard. Having received the password, he nods and lets us pass down the road to our secret destination.
On the condition that we not name the location of PT's DreamGirl Charity Golf Classic 2004 and not go into explicit detail about some of the lascivious acts taking place in the course's, um, rough, Unreal has been granted Peeping Tom privileges to observe the day's debauchery.
Though the golf classic ostensibly exists to raise money for the Southern Illinois Healthcare Foundation's Mother and Child Care Center, most of the 150-plus dudes who anted up the $400 registration fee came for the flesh. The entry fees go to charity; the strippers get to keep whatever loose bills they might earn. Many of the holes have corporate "sponsors," including Pop's and Oz nightclubs and, more disconcertingly, Weir Heating and Cooling.
By 10 a.m. the men -- the majority of whom are midlevel managers with sagging bellies and their clients, likewise paunchy -- already have a Bud Light or three in them and are eager for beaver. But the spectacle -- buck-naked women gyrating on golf greens in broad daylight -- is like seeing your grandmother without her teeth.
At the seventh hole, Rick Patterson, general manager of Diamond Cabaret and Unreal's escort for the daylong event, is irritated that some strippers have their skivvies put back on.
"You girls are bottomless when the guys come through, right?"
Yes, nods Emily, a busty brunette, looking up from her cell phone. Her blonde cohort, who sports a prominent incision below her left boob, nods as well.
"We're not under the confines of our liquor license here," explains Patterson, alluding to the anything-goes atmosphere.
But when a heavily tattooed dancer flees the course in tears, it's clear that all is not well in Boobville.
"The guys are acting like there are no rules because we're on a golf course!" she sobs, claiming that a wannabe-Tiger Woods tried to stick his putter club where the sun doesn't shine. Yikes.
Patterson estimates the event will generate $10,000 to $15,000 for the charity, on par with past years. "We have this bad image of being the Mafia," he says. "Unfortunately, some people won't take money from strip clubs."
The foundation chose to remain mum when Unreal called to inquire about its involvement.
Of Geese and Men
Unreal loves the smell of goose poop in the morning. So we were a little miffed to learn that earlier this summer the Missouri Department of Conservation and the city's parks department unleashed their shock troops to round up geese in Forest Park and ship them downstate for slaughter. It just seemed so, well, shitty.
But while those 69 feathered fiends are definitely cooked, the good folks at GeesePeace are hellbent on stopping the madness. "The facts need to be known," says GeesePeace co-coordinator Jackie Seigel. "We weren't allowed to complete our goose-management program."
The goose-loving group is calling fowl over a few lines contained in a mass-mailed letter from the nonprofit Forest Park Forever, which read: "Regrettably, even using the methods such as those suggested by GeesePeace, these efforts have not controlled the goose problem."
Seigel says her group's methods were never given a fighting chance. They were allowed only to bathe eggs in corn oil, which halts embryonic growth. "We got halfway through the plan," recalls Seigel. "We were ready to do Phase Two, where you bring in the trained border collies to harass the geese."
To the consternation of GeesePeace, the parks department called off the dogs.
Forest Park manager Anabeth Weil was on jury duty last week and couldn't comment, but Tom Meister, wildlife damage biologist for the conservation department, says everyone made a good-faith effort to control the problem humanely before resorting to the final solution. "Forest Park was doing things that GeesePeace recommended, but [Forest Park administrators] just wanted to do [goose management] on their own," says Meister. "With all the construction going on in the park, there were a lot of places the geese were getting to that the staff couldn't."
Meister says he's no fan of slaughter, but a level playing field was essential to prevent the geese from fouling the park for years to come.
"Geese eat a lot and they poop a lot," says the biologist, adding that his agency endorses many of the methods trumpeted by GeesePeace. "So their impact was not only on the turf of the golf greens and around the lake, but [the parks department] spent $50,000 alone on treating the water for excrement. [The slaughter] will allow them to get a handle on the situation. We're encouraging them to aggressively do the egg-oiling and aggressively do the harassment -- because if nothing is done after that, the geese will come back and multiply and we'll have the same problem in five years."
Pimp Your Health
You know the drill: Head throbbing, pasty-tongued and dyspeptic, you promise yourself you'll never drink again. Or rather, you'll never drink Red Bull and vodka again. Well, if the makers of the Lou's own Pimp Juice are to be believed, help is on the way. After what was sure to have been a rigorous battery of tests, one Roger E. Adams (nutritionist and owner of Eatrightfitness) has concluded that Pimp Juice is better for you than Red Bull.