I read about Daulerio and Leitch's trip to Rick's. Good stuff, great photos, etc. Then I read one of them had a horrible date with some of the entertainment. I sent an e-mail to the gentlemen because I was worried – petrified, in fact – that someone that I associate on any level whatsoever would go on such a date and actually pay. If ever a date should have been Dutch, especially one with such parallels to a weekend in Amsterdam, this was the one.

Somebody paid.

So I'm here to help.

Read Bomani's helpful guide after the jump....

Once upon a time, I wrote for ESPN.com's Page 2. After Pacman (ne Adam) Jones got into trouble for that little disturbance at the Minxxx in Las Vegas, I thought it would be helpful to the world to offer a few rules that would stop something like that from happening at the strip club. Pacman's mistakes were particularly disappointing to me, since I went to college in Atlanta, where Pacman's from. I was there four years. He was there for 18, and then he came back with money. Every time I've come to Atlanta since I've graduated, I've debated asking my parents to put a little something on the light bill.

So how did I know the rules and he didn't? It was so baffling that I wanted to express my incredulity to the world.

I'm not sure why that piece didn't run – when editors think something is especially ridiculous, they don't even reply — but I get the feeling that The Mouse didn't agree this was need-to-know information. Those people in the Minxxx probably would disagree, but what can you do?

Based on Pacman's escapades and the sad, sad story offered by the folks at this fine blog, I've got a few strip club rules for you to follow. The stuff I wrote way-back-when are the Pacman Rules, with a few Deadspin Rules added. You can thank me at bomani AT bomanijones DOT com.

The Pacman Rules

1. Once the money's thrown, it's thrown.

Bills at the shake joint are like cards in game of spades—once they're laid down, they're gone. There is no negotiation when it comes to this rule. If you want to flash big money to show you're a baller, then can't care about getting the money back. Forget “making it rain” or anything else. Once the money's thrown out, the ladies on stage are going to pick it up. That's what they're there to do – pick up money. If you thought they were there to dance, see how much dancing they do when the money disappears.

Perhaps strip clubs should have signs that say “no refunds,” but some things are just unspoken but understood. Spades stick. So do dollars.

2. Take no more money than will fit in your pockets.

Trash bags are for trash. If they were meant for anything else, their boxes would say “big ol' black plastic bags.” And if they were meant for money, they would be called “wallets” or have big dollar signs on them like the sacks they used to show in cartoons. Stick with what fits in your trousers, and much drama could be avoided.

3. Don't frequent spots where one can bring a pistol.

It's unclear whether someone from Pacman's party fired the shots at Minxx that night. However, it doesn't matter whether it was Pacman, his boy, or some dude posted in the corner that fired the shots. If the place doesn't sweep its patrons for weapons, it's not the place to go. Considering all the commotion at a strip club—especially during a night as busy as one around All-Star Weekend—there's no telling where a bullet could wind up going. I'm sure Arlen Specter would agree.

As for the other things that could go wrong, ask Stephen Jackson and Co.

4. Observe the two-drink maximum.

Most clubs require patrons purchase at least two drinks. Coincidentally, two drinks is the perfect place to draw the line. The worst place to be drunk is one full of naked, attractive women whose job is to break men for everything they have. Plus, what good has ever happened for someone in a room packed with intoxicated men? Best case scenario is leaving broke. Worst case? Ask those three people that got shot.

5. Observe the two-friend maximum.

When large groups of men get together, there's an unfortunate tendency for those guys to show out for each other. Showing out can mean spending lots of money or showing off how much they can drink. And often, it involves showing how big and bad they are. The more friends you bring, the higher the bar is set for affirming some contrived notion of manhood. Parties of three or less decrease the likelihood that someone in your crew will do something silly to earn props.

6. Stay away from the stage.

Nothing good happens near the stage at a strip club. Nothing. The dancers look at you like a money machine. People will constantly walk in front of you, increasing the likelihood of getting your kicks stepped on. And if you're the one walking to the front, you might step on the shoes of someone who doesn't see such a mistake as a minor transgression. The best move is always to sit by the bar. You'll get your (two) drinks faster, you'll get more attention from the dancers, and you'll have the luxury of spending money on your own schedule.

Further, there's no confusion about whose money is whose by the bar. All transactions are hand-to-hand. Unless someone picks your pocket—which is hard for someone to do if you're sitting on a stool—there will be no miscommunications like the one that took place at Minxx.

The Deadspin Rules

7. If the dancer leaves the club and goes home, you shouldn't see her again until the next time you go to the club.

Looking for good conversation at the strip club is looking for a bottle of A-1 at Mickey D's. There's no need for it there. If she looks that good, can maintain a high level of conversation and is out of college, she could find a better job than dancing (which doesn't pay as much as people think). That isn't sirloin in your Big Mac, dig?

You know what you want. If the McRib isn't on the menu, you don't ask the girl at the counter out hoping she brought one in her purse. Sorry, just no McRib for you. No need to waste your time.

8. Leave the camera at home.

I know this was a different situation, seeing how art is important at a reputable publication like this one. That said, who's impressed by someone saying he got a lapdance? Well, pictures don't make things any more fantabulous. However, I loved the picture of Will with breasts on the knot of his tie, for that appeared to be a perfect time for him to try to remember what he had for lunch yesterday. Made me wonder what's wrong with him, but a great pic all the same.

(In all seriousness, those were great shots, and I applaud the photographer. Someone should give him some work.)

9. Don't get too fancy.

Oh, Rick's was perfect for this here endeavor. In general? Well, if the Knicks and Rangers go there, ain't nobody looking at you. Nobody. Might as well go to the wax museum. Yeah, they're there and looking good. And that's all you'll be doing – looking. Regular cats have a hard time giving their money away in places like that, let alone paying for a dance.

10. Leave the debit card at home.

Chances are you've got more room on the credit card. Hey, go hard or go home. Or just go home hard.

(OK, and go home hard.)

********

Tonight: Yell about the Pats/Jets here.

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. SKEETS....speaks!

So, we took a look. From the original Roethlisberger post:

A serious story coming out of Pittsburgh: It appears Super Bowl hero Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger was involved in a motorcycle accident about 45 minutes ago (11:30 a.m. ET) in Pittsburgh. The picture on KDKA's site is rather scary, and there's no word as of yet on his condition. We will keep you updated, and, of course, will be keeping good thoughts.

We, of course, weren't around yet when Winslow's cycle crashed — that was May 2005, and Deadspin wasn't born until September 2005 — but we did, when writing about Winslow's famous "I'm a SOLDIER!' rant, say this: "Interestingly, this was the exact same take Winslow's motorcycle had after his accident, about him." Now, to be fair to ourselves, we wrote about Big Ben when his health was still in question, and Winslow a year later, when it was clear he was fine, but the point is that the fact that the two incidents might have been covered differently because Roethlisberger was white and Winslow was black hadn't even occurred to us. Some might use that as some sort of cover, a "see, we don't even THINK about race!" But this is stupid. The fact that someone did not consciously think about something does not mean that it is not there.

In Jason Whitlock's column last week , he touched on the Bissinger madness but also bought up a criticism of our book that we've never quite addressed. NPR's Scott Simon had it first, but Whitlock has probably brought it to the largest audience. (Though this is Fox Sports.) Namely, the "jokes" in the Media Glossary section about black sportscasters talking "white."

When Scott Simon mentioned this in an interview with us months ago, we stammered and stumbled and generally sounded like a moron. This is because we were taken aback by it; it legitimately didn't occur to us that someone could take the impression from the book that we had some sort of problem with race. That does not mean that someone that who might infer that is somehow deluded, or just trying to cause trouble. It means they're not us, and that they can see something much clearer than we can.

Whitlock's column takes these Simon criticisms to the next level. We are not sure the book spends an "an inordinate amount of time telling prominent, successful, well-spoken African-Americans that they're not really black," but this does not mean this criticism of the book is not valid. Because, well, it is. The references in the book, to (and we don't have the book in front of us, so we may be off) the Gumbels and Ahmad Rashad, are cheap, lazy and not particularly funny. The joke we were trying to make was a mockery of the "Ohio accent," the slightly nasal, straight forward flat accent that every broadcaster has to contort himself/herself into. But it didn't read that way. It was lazy writing, rather than a pointed insult. (And why, you might ask, did we bring Tony Dungy into it? An excellent question that we do not have an answer for.)

But that's not really the point. Who cares what we meant? Nothing is worse than the apology that "we didn't mean to offend anyone." Well, of course not; the fact that you didn't think you were offending anyone is the reason that it's offensive. The point is that just because something was not conscious does not mean it's not there. An easy joke comes from somewhere, and it was one that was even repeated. We did not do it to mock black sportscasters. But there it is, regardless.

We were talking to Bomani Jones, who's very good at this writing business, the other day about the racist comments that inevitably pop up on any open forum, message board or comment thread. The most memorable instance of this, around these parts, was when Stephen A. Smith's site's launched, though, honestly, we think if you put a picture of a puppy as a blog post on a general AOL or Yahoo site, the n-word would come out by comment 20. Bomani was concerned it was indicative of a growing "angry white man" movement in the culture, reflected by the Web. We weren't so sure; we think it's more the nasty fringe element, bigots empowered by anonymity.

But we would think that, wouldn't we? We easily dismiss such comments as idiotic, the unfortunate byproduct of open forums, and move about our day. But that's our perspective. And that perspective, like all perspectives, as wrong as the next person's. It's easy for us to say that.

This is all to say: As we've said repeatedly, blogs are not a movement, or a single-minded entity. All blogs take on the personality of the author. Right now, the vast majority of those sports blogs are written by white guys. Bomani implored us: "You have to say something about this, because they won't listen to it from me." And he's right. If Scoop Jackson writes a column about race, well, there he goes again. This happened with Whitlock's column too. A nationally recognized sports columnist, on a widely read national Web site, calls us out, and we received a total of one email about it. Why? Because we think most people read the first few paragraphs about Bissinger, and then when they got to the part where Whitlock started writing about race, their eyes glazed over, and Whitlock turned into the voice of the teacher in "Peanuts." There he goes again, with the race stuff. There's a wall there that we, and most sports bloggers, don't have, due entirely to the audience. And Whitlock, and Jackson, and Bomani Jones, do. We might not mean this. It might be subconscious. But it's there.

So, friend, here it is: If you think those inevitable racist comments are just the ugly detritus of the Web and dismiss them with a wave of your hand ... you're probably a white guy. And If you hear us ever talking about what black people think, or how they should act, or whatever, completely ignore us, because we don't have the slightest fucking idea what we're talking about.