Before the holidays, I went to a Toys For Tots fundraiser in New York City, armed with $100 worth of goodies for little boys and girls who won't have the postcard Christmas morning I did when I was young. It was my hope that, this year especially, others would do the same.

And some demonstrably did. Like John Smith. A couple Fridays ago, he got up an extra hour early to load up his Ford F-150 with the loot he bought at Wal-Mart and drove to a parking lot in Tampa, FL, where a local establishment took his unwrapped toys for distribution to charity. The difference is, John left with a lap dance.

The man to blame for this event that prompted "Mr. Smith" to use an alias when talking with me ("I'm not sure my mom would get it") was Bubba The Love Sponge, a Florida shock jock who's made a name appealing to what he calls the redneck listener. He and his cadre of colorful cohorts hosted the ninth-annual "Toys for Ta-Tas" drive at Deja Vu, a sister operation of Larry Flynt's Hustler gentlemen’s clubs.

For eight years, scores of Bubba listeners have driven into the parking lot with their unwrapped toys for a personal lap dance in—and on—their vehicle from one of the club's entertainers. (Years ago, the event was called "Toys For Tits," but the FCC prefers Bubba use the apparently less offensive "Ta-Tas.")

Despite hard times, the event brought in more than 1,000 toys, plus $700 in donations, which went to local charities with the help of the Bubba The Love Sponge Foundation. PARC, an organization for children and adults with disabilities, and The Spring, the largest domestic violence shelter in Florida, were the 2008 benefactors. As Bubba said, "It says a lot for The Bubba Army and Americans, that even during tough times they still found a way to be charitable," adding, "I'm sure it didn't hurt to have topless entertainers for some extra motivation. "

"Toys For Ta-Tas" drew hundreds of do-gooders—including women, some of whom accompanied their boyfriends or husbands, and others who came in large groups. The Tampa police department even showed up because traffic was stopped for a quarter-mile around the club. But according to Deja Vu's general manager, "Ice," "We explained what we were doing, and they were just fine with it."

By all accounts, the patrons were just fine with it too. Patrons like Jimmy Hart, professional wrestling’s "Mouth of the South." He spent around $100 on so many toy rifles, stuffed animals and other Christmas essentials that his bags broke on the way to the club. "I tried to find the biggest toys I could. I know that's what makes a kid's eyes light up."

But it's not just about the kids. Toys For Ta-Tas was also good for the ta-ta owners. The girls—some dressed as Santas, some dressed as elves—brought in $3,700 in tips, split among the 15 of them. "It was great," said Renee, a 29-year-old dancer performing at her first Toys For Ta-tas. "We were underneath a tent, putting our boobs in guys' faces. Everyone really seemed happy to be there, and it was great for us to collect all those toys for the kids." As Bubba said, "These women always want to help with charity, yet people dismiss them because of what they do for a living… They worked really hard for the kids."

It's a modern-day, rough-around-the-edges, totally-inappropriate Christmas Carol for the 21st century, when kids need toys and men need lap dances. It's a useful lesson now more than ever.

S.E. Cupp is co-author of Why You're Wrong About the Right. She is a freelance columnist and political commentator, who lives and works in New York City .