For bookings, media requests, and love letters, email info @ jacqthestripper dot com 

For customer service, email strippersforevershop @ gmail dot com

To stay in touch, sign up for the Strippers Forever newsletter.



123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789


You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.




STRIPCABIN: a vacation from patriarchy


Last weekend I had the privilege and pleasure of flying to Atlanta to meet anarcho-feminist cult icon Lux ATL. She picked me up at the airport, we hoovered some Bojangles, and hit the road to the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee to strip in fellowship betwixt two hot tubs and 30 dope-ass cunts.


I didn't know what to expect. I told my wife it was a stripper retreat, but I quickly learned it was much more than that.  Given the complete fucking shittiness of the past week, I was nervous to be thrust into a group of strangers to act happy (that is what I do for a living) when I was actually feeling grim as fuck, routinely collapsing into puddles of tears as I ran errands in preparation for this adventure (For the first time in my life I had to go to a sporting goods store to buy kneepads. I was actually quite stoked to need kneepads for something).

Lux told me, "I wanted to create a space that's like the club, but you know, just the good parts." Turns out this is kind of easy: just take out the men! 

NOTE: my misandry is at an all-time high and if this bums you out, pull your head out of your privileged ass, wake the fuck up, and donate 26 cents on every dollar you earn to Planned Parenthood, ACLU, Stand with Standing Rock, or SWOP (just to name a few). 

Besides willfully submitting to ten consecutive coffee enemas in Thailand a few years ago, I'd never been on a retreat before. SHIT HAVE I EVER BEEN MISSING OUT.  Stripcabin was a much needed opportunity to chill the fuck out, talk some serious shit with some brilliant (and I mean brilliant) women, and skinny dip as frequently as possible. I also buffed up on some angry stripper heel-clacking moves, took a workshop with Michelle Mynx on eyefucking (*incredible*) and made an attempt to learn Beyonce's 7/11 in my click-clacks with the loving guidance of Dani Love

In no particular order, here is some of the wonderful shit that went down:

Fig. 1: Porchin'

Wake-n-bakers outnumbered coffee drinkers

Fig. 2: The Kickoff Party 

Stripping for women is great because they don't try to finger your asshole unless you ask them to! 

Fig. 3: Dope-Ass Cunts Who Like Money

Lux ATL, Dani Love, and my thirsty ass


Lux teaches us some killer angry stripper choreography that I now dutifully practice every night at the club. 

Fig. 5: Kelley 

Kelley is a magnificent pole freak. She performs some legendary coke pantomiming and if you pledge enough money to causes that work to protect all the marginalized people who got painfully fucked over in this election, maybe one day she'll perform it for you. 

Fig. 6: Since Stripcabiners know a thing or two about foreplay, the pussy was obviously eaten first.  

Fig. 7: It was a truly life-changing weekend, so I had to finish it off in style with my signature move:

Getting stoned before packing the car.


You guys: Lux ATL is a force of nature. If you're not familiar with her sermons, podcast, and general badassery, catch the fuck up. Bojangles is also really fucking dope. 


I will sure as shit be returning to Stripcabin, and if any of the aforementioned activities interest you, you can apply to be part of Stripcabin 2017 and perhaps even Stripcastle (if you're in the UK) and probably in several other corners of the globe because Lux ATL's world takeover is imminent. 

The Stripcraft Spellbook drops today, and I'm not sure there's a more sound investment I could endorse.