DID you hear about a generous homosexual man who died of liver cancer? It turned out he was a regular customer in at least three macho dancer bars in the metropolis. At his funeral all his favorite strippers performed an all-cast show.
AN opulent man went to a macho dancer bar located on a dimly lit road. Half-way through a dance show that he himself requested, he succumbed to a cardiac arrest. The bar staff rushed him to the nearest hospital, which was just fifty yards away from the strip club. The doctors did everything they could to revive him but he eventually died. Two weeks later, his remains were interred in the sprawling cemetery just right next to the hospital.
SIGN seen outside a seedy macho dancer bar: Entrance Fees: Female: 60 Pesos. Bakla (that is, transvestites, transsexuals and effeminate men): 120 Pesos.
A straight-looking, straight-acting, straight-talking, good-looking, fit guy appeared at the doorstep.
“Yes?” inquired the burly doorman, looking puzzled.
“Hi! I’d like to get in,” the potential customer said.
“But this is a strip club!” the door-guy explained.
“I know. About the entrance fee, do I pay here or inside?” the guy asked rather awkwardly.
“Fee? There is no entrance fee,” the entrance in-charge replied, looking at the guy from head to toe.
“You mean it’s free?” asked the surprised customer.
“It’s free for you. You don’t fit the description,” said the doorman, pointing to the sign.
“Thanks,” replied the grinning guy.
“Get in,” the entrance man told him, winking at the guy.