The Pitiful Princess Gentlemen’s Club (12646 SE Division St., 954-1019) draws rancor, mostly because of its name. Some find it offensive because little girls are obsessed with pink and princesses. Others find pity disrespectful to the dancers. But they miss the point: It’s actually a fitting name. I think about this deeply as I sit near the main stage next to a heavy-set middle-aged man, the only other guy here on a Thursday night. The servers, which outnumber us 3 to 2, keep a steady stream of cheap booze ($2 rum and Coke) coming. The dancers get hotter by the drink. The club’s name and somewhat naughty reputation mask what is otherwise a low-key strip joint. It’s a place to have a beer, pay for a private dance or two, and unwind while swapping Burning Man stories with a 41-year-old in a G-string.