Post #388049 by woofmutt on Thu, Jun 19, 2008 12:51 AM

Tiki Bob's seems to be a chain bent on spreading a warped senses of Tiki across America. The Seattle chapter is having a foam party this week. How wacky. -woofmutt- (Hey that's ME!)

Those of us in the know (that sure as hell oughtta include anyone readin' this) don't need any more reasons to hate Tiki Bob's, but the always fabulous dogbytes just sent me a link from Seattle's The Stranger "Seattle's Only Newspaper".

The below excerpt is from the Bar Exam column, a weekly bar review column written by Bethany Jean Clement, a talented writer with a sharp eye for the smaller details and curiosities of bar life and an excellent sense for what makes a good bar.

The full piece is HERE

*"...Cinco de Mayo girl-on-girl Jell-O wrestling at Tiki Bob's...There were "Corona girls" in short skirts, an exhortative KISW DJ, a blind Native American guy drinking Budweiser whom the DJ referred to repeatedly as "Crazy Horse," tequila shots, and, eventually, Jell-O wrestling...

...The idea of people in swimsuits wrestling in a pool of Jell-O contains, incontrovertibly, pure joy. That it always has to be women is demoralizing, but in no way as demoralizing as the actual event at Tiki Bob's. No one appeared to enjoy it. At all.

Lights swirled, classic rock played, the DJ exhorted, the crowd gathered around a low inflatable pool filled with strawberry Jell-O for the "Rojo Rumble." The Jell-O was in a liquid state...

...Two women emerged, both preternaturally buxom and toned, wearing matching bikinis: ringers, clearly. (The DJ never exhorted anyone to sign up.) The audience gave a pallid welcome, the Jell-O was entered, and the "wrestling" began. The women tried not to get their hair Jell-O-y while daintily Going Wild: showily, lightly, dispassionately spanking each other and likewise dry-humping. The audience looked on passively and silently, as if watching a computer screen. Some guys robotically snapped camera-phone photos. The DJ called the wrestlers "babygirls," made jokes about breast implants, and (belying his youthful-from-a-distance appearance) exclaimed "Heavens to Murgatroyd!"

No audience anywhere has ever responded more tepidly to anything. At the end, four women had wrestled in Jell-O for the purported greater entertainment good, and no one could be bothered to clap. A winner was arbitrarily selected, the sham of a sham drew to a close, and I was unable to stay to talk to any of the participants due to suicidal/omnicidal ideation.

The American pageant of objectification has reached its natural conclusion..."* -Bethany Jean Clement-

Damn, she didn't tell us how the Mai Tais were!