Orang-outangs in sharskin suits,
Survey each victim’s attributes—
Brute arbiters of all disputes.
These sumo slabs of swollen pride
Peruse each punter, then decide
Not you! Yes you— get on inside.
Personally, I would rather eat in an Angus Steak House than allow some bruiser in a fake Armani suit decide whether or not I enter a night club. But as hundreds of thousands of young men and women submit to this humiliation each night around the world, I guess I am somehow missing the point.