At this point, if you haven't seen a David Schmader screening of Showgirls—the terrible 1995 "art" film about a Las Vegas stripper named Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley) who aspires to break into the cutthroat business of being a topless showgirl—then you're willfully ignoring one of the city's great civic treasures (more nipples than the Space Needle™, and for cheaper!). And I pity you. I know: I'm biased; we work 10 feet from each other. But my appreciation for Schmader's talents came long before I became his colleague. He's been hosting Showgirls screenings intermittently for more than a decade—he single-handedly turned Showgirls into a cult classic worthy of a national tour—and his screenings never get old because (a) the movie never gets any better and (b) Schmader is fucking funny. Each of his screenings reveals layers of new horrors, like a misogynistic onion. It's not that Schmader makes jokes about the movie as it screens, à la Mystery Science Theater 3000, he's just incredibly good at pointing out every layer of terrible decision-making on the part of the film's script writers, actors, director, wardrobe staff, nipple painters, manicurists, rape consultants... the list goes on. His humor is effortless, relentless, and blessedly humane when dealing with the movie's egregious rapey parts. Seriously: If you haven't seen the show yet, get off your ass and go. Now. Triple Door, 7:30 pm, $15 adv/$18 DOS, 17+.