by Robert Bell
AUSTRALIA’S THUNDER FROM DOWN UNDER
8 p.m. Electric Cowboy. $25-$35.
I tried. I honestly have given it 110 percent. I must’ve watched nearly 34 seconds of a video of it online, but I still just can’t understand the appeal. I’m talking (and yes, I do mean talking) about male strippers, of course.
It’s like, what are they doing up there? First we’re supposed to be convinced that they’re all just a bunch of innocent policemen or firefighters or tuxedo-wearers and they just happen to be dancing around to a nice choreographed tune. But then they rip all their clothing off to reveal chest after ripped, deeply tanned, deeply oily, 100-percent hairless chest. And then the pants come off and they start prancing and thrusting and bulging around everywhere and for some reason, some people — women mostly, it seems — appear to enjoy this. They shriek and cackle at these poor studly ragamuffins.
And I’m thinking (and yes, I do mean thinking), “Hey, this is like, sexual objectification or something. This isn’t right.” And then I remembered: It’s all because of Hollywood. See, there’s this popular actor right now who used to be a male stripper. He’s called Chunnam Tating or something weird, some nonsensical stripper name. Anyways, it’s probably his fault, so thanks a lot, Chunnam.
And to all you folks ages 21 and older who want to watch a troupe of utterly buff, devastatingly handsome dudes with antipodean accents and pumped up pectorals dance around sexily, here you go, Australia's Thunder from Down Under.