June 08, 2005

Detroit Days, LA Nights

Detroit Days, LA Nights

A couple of days ago, dear reader, we used this space to dilate on a curious advertisement for “bodyrubs” by a devilishly debonair fellow named Tony. Upon looking back at the newspaper from which this print exhortation was culled, we recognized a second advertisement that we found peculiar.

It reads:

LA Nights

Escorts for all occasions.
All races, Ages 18-45.
Selectively hiring.
Call Amy:

To be honest, dear reader, there are a number of reasons that made this advert strange—besides its author’s oddly selective use of capitalization. In fact, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” found this ad suitably bizarre that we have determined to write the woman in charge of the operation.

Our letter will go a little something like this:

To: Amy
From: The Crack Young Staff of THMQ
Re: “LA Nights”

Dear Amy:

We discovered an advertisement for your delightful service in a local throwaway publication, and it bothered us to such an extent that we have collectively got up the gumption to pen this missive. Frankly, we find numerous things about this advert puzzling, to say the least.

First, why is your business called “LA Nights” when it isn’t even remotely close to Los Angeles? Are you advertising the fact that a night with one of your escorts is likely to include horrible traffic and smog? Or perhaps the Los Angeles branch of your establishment is called “Cleveland Nights”?

In addition, we doubted that your service actually provides “escorts for all occasions.” Can’t you think of any occasion for which an escort would be at least mildly inappropriate? If you earnestly cannot, we can provide some: Your wedding; a trip to your grandmother’s; a nine-mile jog.

But both of these things are mere quibbles in comparison with our chief point. You claim that you have escorts of “All races, Ages 18-45.” Never mind the fact that we think race is an outdated 19th-century concept in which most scientists no longer believe.

We simply doubt the notion that you have such a wide array of “talent” at your disposal. For instance, do you have a 42-year-old Flemish man for a date next Tuesday? Or a 36-year-old Belgian princess for tea on Wednesday? Or how about a 18-year-old Papua New Guinean for a nine-mile jog?

And don’t insult us by sending along an ersatz escort: If there’s one thing we collectively hate, it’s a gal who’s pretending to be New Guinean.

The Crack Young Staff of THMQ

Posted at June 8, 2005 12:01 AM | TrackBack