On Thursday, I was at my health club, flipping through Sacramento News & Review, when I noticed that Mary Carey, the porn star candidate for California Governor, was going to be performing this week at Centerfolds, in Rancho Cordova, just outside Sacramento. I excitedly pointed this out to Tessie, my aerobics instructor, who grimaced and changed the subject (different tastes, I guess). Anyway, I figured that if Ariana Huffington and Peter Camejo can campaign together, Mary and myself could campaign together, on a beauty and brains platform (I tried to ignore the little voice in my head that said there was no incentive for her to join forces with me, and that my motives for even thinking about such an alliance were mixed, to say the least). Nevertheless, throwing caution to the winds, off I went, to catch the 11:30 p.m. Friday evening show at Centerfolds.
I paid the $19 cover charge (which covered all drinks) and entered the club. Many men, and a few women, sat at numerous tables scattered about two stages. Many pretty women strolled around in various, provocative states of undress. Some of the men seemed to be well known to the women, and were quickly dragged off to locations unknown. A pretty blonde waitress asked me what I wanted to drink, and I was surprised to learn the club is non-alcoholic. I got a Diet Coke and paid for it: since the drink was already paid for, she soon began buzzing around with replacement drinks every few minutes (my general, if limited, experience in these establishments is that if you tip liberally and indiscriminately, you will have a lot better time than if you try to be parsimonious).
Then the show started! Mary Carey came out in an orange jumpsuit, which was quickly doffed to reveal something much skimpier. Then she began dancing. Her dance was energetic enough, but was compromised by the slippery floor under her platform shoes, and the frequent stops to jam the faces of appreciative patrons between her ample breasts. When she lay down on her back and her legs traced opposing arcs to the floor, her platform shoes made distinctive clicking noises when they simultaneously touched down.
The announcer stated that the most enthusiastic fan shouting 'Mary Carey for Governor!' would get a free videotape of Mary Carey. Under most circumstances, I'd be that most enthusiastic patron, but given my own candidacy, I had a hopeless conflict of interest. Attention focused stage right, where a rather lackluster group of men tried to get her attention. Mary Carey indicated by semaphore that she wanted more enthusiasm, and started doing jumping jacks as a suggestion. One little guy in a white shirt starting doing jumping jacks with vigor, and to me it looked like the contest was over. But Mary Carey was not satisfied, and she indicated that she was going to fling the VHS tape into audience as if it were a garter at a wedding. She lost her grip with the first toss, and the tape landed flat on the stage. The second toss went better, but she brained three guys with the spinning tape before it finally came to a stop - the enthusiastic little guy lost out.
Then attention turned to a fellow named (appropriately enough) John, who was made to lie prostrate on stage, while Mary Carey used a rubber device and an unknown fluid to simulate several sex acts. About this time, I started talking to the pretty blonde waitress. I indicated that I was Mary Carey's rival - another candidate for governor. The waitress smiled and said she was for Schwarzenegger herself. I replied, rather defensively, "well, only if you're into that sort of guy." She asked if I was a politician, and I said no: science instead, specifically meteorology. Then she said: "I think this whole governor's race is a joke!" I started to argue with her, but given the new round of hooting and hollering stageside, I had to confess she had a point - I said, "well, it COULD be!"
I noticed several strange things about the club - it seemed to be violating an important rule of physics, namely the Conservation of Men and Women. Several times, parades of nubile women came down from the stage, and appeared to vanish into the house. I wondered if men were getting dragged off for lap dances, but there seemed to be just as many men in the seats as before, but still, the women were gone. I eventually concluded I just wasn't paying enough attention to understand what was going on in the house, distracted as I was by the action on stage, the pretty blonde waitress, the loud music, and my numerous Diet Cokes. The waitress let me know I could meet Mary Carey after her performance in the VIP lounge, but fearing the likelihood of making unintended contributions to the Mary Carey for Governor campaign, and the certainty that her unbelievably-large platform would overshadow my much-more-modest springboard, I demurred. So, I left without approaching the candidate, after spending only $25 in 35 minutes ($19 for the cover charge, and $6 for drinks - still, cheaper than a casino!)
Something about the experience suggests to me that Mary Carey is not a serious candidate for governor. Nevertheless, I look forward to her upcoming gubernatorial debate with mall security guard Gary Coleman on E!