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[Update: Find Stefon’s very last club — sob! — at the end of the post.]

Here’s what we know about tweaky club kid Stefon Zelesky, by far Bill Hader’s most popular SNL character: He used to write for Smash. His dad is David Bowie. His brother is Ben Affleck (a.k.a. “David”). He lives in a trash can near the Radio Shack on 23rd St. and 7th Ave. He’s in love with Seth Meyers. And he’s got an encyclopedic knowledge of New York’s hottest clubs, from Scampi (“illegally parked behind the Statue of Liberty”) to SPICY (“the creation of club owner/rabbi Jew Diamond Phillips”) to Selfieee! (“based on the novel Push by Sapphire”).

But just like Booooooooof’s round-the-clock puke party, all good things must come to an end. And since this Saturday marks Hader’s last show as an SNL cast member, it may also be the last time we see Stefon horrify and amuse Seth — and himself — by rattling off facts about his favorite city hot spots.

So before he goes, let’s celebrate Stefon’s legacy by remembering all 31 of the crazy, improbable, disgusting, hilarious clubs he’s described over the past four seasons. And don’t worry — if the list makes you feel a bit misty, just reach down and grab yourself a human tissue. (It’s that thing of where a jacked midget wears a white shirt, and you blow your nose on it.)

New York’s hottest club is: Crease

Description: Club promoter Tranny Oakley has gone all out.

This place has everything: Lights, psychos, Furbies, screaming babies in Mozart wigs, sunburned drifters with soap sud beards.

Soap sud beards? You know, that thing when the hobo becomes a rich man, so they take that big bubble bath?

New York’s hottest club is: Wesh

Description: Nine-year-old Tokyo pimp Ichiaku Guru is back with an all new hotspot that answers the question, “WHAT?!”

This place has everything: Trance, stilts, throw-up music, an albino that looks like Susan Powter, Teddy Graham people.

Teddy Graham people? It’s that thing of when a guy has the stumpy arms, but with the belly.

New York’s hottest club is: Twice

Description: Don’t be thrown off when you’re greeted at the door by a rabbi that looks like Joaquin Phoenix — you’re in the right place. Also, it’s owned by Robert Blake.

This place has everything: Gauze, carnival barkers, groups of guys with afros in graduation caps, human fire hydrants.

Human fire hydrants? You know, it’s that thing of when high-waisted midgets have like, the red pants and the big ass.

New York’s hottest club is: Slice

Description: Club promoter Gay Liotta is back, and this time he’s… gone… crazy.

This place has everything: Twinks, gypsies, grown men in wedding dresses, a cat from a bodega, puppets in disguise.

Puppets in disguise? It’s that thing of when Alf wore a trench coat, so he could go out into public.

New York’s hottest club is: Taste

Description: Nightlife designer Tranny Griffith is back with an all-new club that answers the question, “Huh?!?” Don’t look for a bouncer — there isn’t one. Instead, the door’s guarded by 10 jacked homeless guys in old-fashioned bathing suits.

This place has everything: Ice sculptures, winos, Germfs – German smurfs – a Teddy Ruxpin wearing mascara, an old lady wearing Kid ‘N Play hair, and none other than DJ Baby Bok Choy.

DJ Baby Bok Choy? He’s a giant 300-pound Chinese baby who wears tinted aviator glasses, and he spins records with his little ravioli hands.

New York’s hottest club is: Slash

This place has everything: Glass, steam, bear traps, and just when you think the fun is over — knock knock, who’s there? It’s Black George Washington! All that, and a party room filled with human bathmats.

Human bathmats? It’s that thing when midgets have dreadlocks, and they lay face down on the floor.

New York’s hottest club is: Trash

Description: After you step through the stainless steel door to this meat-packing hot spot, you’ll be greeted by none other than Pierre, the Muslim Elvis Impersonator.

This place has everything: Clones, freaks, sneezing, a Russian man on a prepaid cell phone, and anyone can get in — there’s no password. At the door, just do the Cosby face.

New York’s hottest club is: Gush

Description: Club owner Gay Dunaway has built a fantasy world that answers the question, “Nooow?”

This place has everything: Geeks, sherpas, a Jamaican nurse wearing a shower cap, room after room of broken mirrors.

Look over there — is that Mick Jagger? No! It’s a fat kid on a Slip ‘n Slide. His knees look like biscuits, and he’s ready to party.

NEXT: “A stuck-up kitten who won’t sign autographs”

New York’s hottest club is: Push

This place has everything: Ghosts, banjos, Carl Paladino, a stuck-up kitten who won’t sign autographs, furkels.

Furkels? Fat Urkels. After you’ve been with one of those guys, you’ll ask yourself “Did I do thaaaat?'”

New York’s hottest club is: Ounce

Description: Located in the middle of the East River…

This place has everything: Cholos, cute people, a sheepdog that looks like Bruce Vilanch, an entire room of puppets doing karate.

Puppets doing karate? It’s that thing of when someone calls Miss Piggy “fat,” and she goes, “Hiiiii-ya!”

New York’s hottest club is: Oooooontz

Description: This lower lower East Side dump is the creation of club owner Tranderson Cooper. It finally answers the question, “Do I have to?”

This place has everything: Schitzos, kite enthusiasts — and that’s not all! Look who just came in — it’s Blingo!

Blingo? Black Ringo.

New York’s hottest club is: Blitzen

This place has everything: [to the tune of “The 12 Days of Christmas”] 12 jacked albinos, 11 Little Richards, 10 piercer babies, 9 Asian Balkis, 8 gay Aladdins, 7 psychos swearing, 6 PuertoScreechens (Puerto Rican Screeches), 5 homeless Elmos, 4 coked-up frogs, 3 French hens, Tay-lor Ne-gron, and a hu-man park-ing coooooone!

Human parking cone? It’s that thing of when two jacked midgets paint themselves orange, and you have to parallel park between them.

New York’s hottest club is: Booooooooof. (With nine Os.)

Description: Located at an abandoned orphanage on the Lower Lower East Side of Chelsea, this round-the-clock puke party is creation of narcoleptic club owner Snoozin’ Lucci.

This place has everything: Pugs, geezers, doo-wop groups, a wise old turtle that looks like Quincy Jones — and you’ll have your own When Harry Met Sally moment when you share a special kiss with Gizblow, the coked-up gremlin.

New York’s hottest club is: Hooyagoosyoughoooou!

Description: Built on a dare by 90-year-old club promoter Fuji Houser MD…

This place has everything: Stun guns, mole people, freezing cold air. And this Valentine’s Day, you can lose yourself on the dance floor surrounded by 12 dancing Jupids.

Jupids? Jewish Cupids. They just want you to meet someone nice and settle down.

New York’s hottest club is: Uhhhhh

Description: Located in the middle of the West Side Highway, this bi-curious beach party is the creation of Italian club owner Baloney Danza.

This place has everything: Split kicks, pachucos, pile after pile of expired lunchables, a Hawaiian cleaning lady who looks like Smokey Robinson

Look who just walked in — is that Natalie Portman? No, it’s an old Irish black man that we call Murphy Brown.

Bonus: If you come this Sunday, you’ll meet 2-year-old Ultimate Fighter Drooly-Lips Jackson. He’s got fists like little empanadas, and he’s my best friend.

New York’s hottest club is: SPICY

Description: Opened in 2017 on the Upper East Side of a dumpster, this 24-hour bitchfest is the creation of club owner/rabbi Jew Diamond Phillips.

This place has everything: Sand worms, geishas, rock-eaters, a seven level course in adult education. And if you want to relax, you can kick back in your very own subway sleeping bag.

Subway sleeping bag? It’s that thing of when you’re on the train, and you sit between two guys in FUBU jackets.

NEXT: “The creation of Hanukkah cartoon character Menorah the Explorer”

New York’s hottest club is: Mmhmmm

Description: Opened in 2010, this active crime scene is the creation of lazily named drag queen Melvin in a Dress.

This place has everything: Stickballs, pickpockets, Cookie Crisp.

Look who’s at the bar — is that Kate Moss? No — it’s a Pakistani family that cuts in line at Universal Studios.

New York’s hottest club is: [quacks like a duck]

Description: Located in a haunted synagogue, this Upper-Lower-Side hot spot is the creation of Italian reggae singer Rasta Primavera.

This place has everything: Brooms, scrunchies, screwheads, a shaved lion that looks like Mario Batali. And make sure to be there this Friday, because the first hundred people through the door will win human fire extinguishers.

Human fire extinguishers? It’s that thing of when a thin midget paints himself red and then chews Alka-Seltzer until foam shoots out his mouth

New York’s hottest club is: Heeyyyyy!

Description: Built from the bucket list of a dying pervert, this Battery Park bitch parade is now managed by overweight game show host Fat Sajak.

This place has everything: Tweekers, skeevies, Spud Webb, a child, and a Russian guy who runs on a treadmill in a Cosby sweater.

Bonus: The bouncer’s a bulldog who looks like Wilford Brimley, and the password is “dia-beat-us!”

New York’s hottest club is: [bleats like a sheep]

Description: Opening condemned in 1904, this seasonal psycho ward is the creation of Hanukkah cartoon character Menorah the Explorer.

This place has everything: Kiwis, Spud Webb, the Cleo Awards, some guy’s mom, plus a special showing of the African holiday classic A Fish Called Kwaanza.

And look who just walked in! It’s a lady who works at CVS, but do not bother her because she is on break.

Bonus: All the proceeds go to flaccid outreach group Doctors Without Boners.

New York’s hottest club is: Thank You!

Description: Located inside a crashing blimp, this Eurotrash utopia is the creation of beatnik doctor Soul Patch Adams.

This place has everything: Zip lines, fish food, that fat Hawaiian guy that no one invited, an old Pakistani woman that looks like a California Raisin.

Bonus: This weekend, they’re having a tournament of everybody’s favorite trivia game, “Shaun White or Bonnie Raitt?” Look closely — the answer may surprise you.

New York’s hottest club is: [looks around, furrows brow] Kevin?

Description: Opened at gunpoint in a Lady Footlocker, this Long Island cold spot is managed by infamous gay running back Blowjay Simpson.

This place has everything: Soda, purple stuff, Sunny D, a VIP room for football jellyfish.

Football jellyfish? It’s that thing when NFL players have the helmet, but with skinny dreads hanging out.

Bonus: The bouncer’s a Greek boy who looks like Marv Albert, and the password is [in a different voice] YES!

New York’s hottest club is: [in an exaggerated Irish accent] Wee Little Baby

Description: Opened in 1709 by black Irish comedian Sinbad O’Connor, this lunatic landmark earned the Health Department’s first-ever “J” rating.

This place has everything: Freckles, potato people, a room full of Heprechauns.

Heprechaun? Leprechauns with Hep C.

Bonus: Hit the dance floor with a group of Hoombas!

Hoombas? Human Roombas. It’s that thing of when you put a midget on a skateboard and it slides around on your floor eating garbage. [This line, by the way, may have made Hader laugh harder than any other Stefon joke.]

New York’s hottest club is: Scampi

Description: Illegally parked behind the Statue of Liberty, this hate-speech haven is a creation of frat boy guru D-Bag Chopra.

This place has everything: Zip drives, gozers, Ke$ha.

Guess who may drop by! Is it Ryan Seacrest? No — it’s a drowned albino who looks like Axl Rose.

Bonus: For the kids, there’s a special workshop where you can build a bear… but not the kind you think.

Extra bonus: A VIP section filled with Furtlenecks.

Furtlenecks? It’s that thing of when like, fat guys have a beard, but only on their chin roll.And they have a pack of roaming draggers.

Roaming draggers? It’s that thing of when an old dog has short legs but a long penis.

NEXT: “Donald Duck having a Vietnam nightmare”

New York’s hottest club is: [makes the noise of an insect flying by]

Description: Written and directed by James L. Brooks…

This place has everything: Backpacks, sea lions, Ron Wood, a rental car filled with bottled water, my best friend Joel, plus a special appearance by evil celebrity chef Wario Batali.

Wario Batali? He’s just like his brother, except he doesn’t wear Crocs.

New York’s hottest club is: [shuts eyes, widens mouth, says in a nasal voice:] Hellooo

Description: The whole thing is hosted by cross-dressing founding father Jenjamin Franklin. And if there’s a lighting storm, he’ll tie a key to the end of it. No, honey, not his kite.

This place has everything: Raffis, yeti-cabs — pedicabs driven by yetis — slowpokes, a woman with nowhere to turn. Just for the 4th of July, they’ve got a special display of Jewish fireworks.

Jewish fireworks? The ones that go peewwww-ehhhhhh.

New York’s hottest club is: [in a deep voice] Jelly Bones!

Description: Located on the Lower Upper Side, this random home invasion is the creation of legally drunk clothing designer Nick Nolte and Gabana. As you walk in, you’ll be handed a glass of champagne — or is it piss?

This place has everything: Slurpies, mushmouths, litterbugs.

Bonus: Don’t worry about security, because it’s guarded by an army of hobo-cops.

Hobo-cops? Homeless Robocops.

New York’s hottest club is: [crouches like a cat, hisses twice]

Description: Located in an abandoned whitefish factory in Little Israel…

This place has everything: Ghosts, ghouls, goblins, my son! On the dance floor, you’ll find both guys from Wham! wearing a two-man horse costume. Spoiler alert: They’re both in the back.

Special guest: Have you heard of Blacula, the Black Dracula? Well, they have a Jewish Dracula.

What’s his name? Sidney Applebaum.

Bonus: For a healthy snack, hit the bar and have some Fraisins — raisins that look like Frasier! Or try your luck with the Human Pinata.

Human Pinata? It’s that thing of when a Mexican midget eats a lot of candy, and then he dances until he throws up.

New York’s hottest club is: [in a British accent] Maaaaary!

Description: Opened in 1997 by missing Florida woman Lisa Martinez, this club is currently going 90 miles per hour down the West Side Highway.

This place has everything: Charts, graphs, Powerpoint, a guy who still thinks Jamba Juice is good for you. And if you liked Russell Crowe in Les Misérables, you might want to hear Jasper the gorilla pass a kidney stone!

There’s even a password! The last words of murdered blues legend Sweet Willie Walker: “My wallet?! Yeahhhhhhh, right!”

New York’s hottest club is: Your Mother and I Are Separating

Description: Don’t be fooled by the charred Red Lobster sign out front; this club is a burned-down Red Lobster.

This place has everything: A shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch, a sensible dinner, those shoes that nurses wear — and you can dance the night away to the sounds of Donald Duck having a Vietnam nightmare.

What does that sound like?

New York’s hottest club is: [pursing his lips and taking a picture of himself] Selfieee!

Description: Based on the novel Push by Sapphire, club promoter Joseph Gordon-Fisherman opened a Soho hotspot located in a haunted diaper.

This place has everything: Chutes, ladders, the outdoor concert from a Zoloft commercial. If that’s not enough for you, you can hit the dance floor with a human fanny pack.

Human fanny pack? It’s that thing of when a midget hangs around your waist and holds your passport in his mouth.

And finally, New York’s hottest club is: [in an Al Pacino voice] PANTS!

Description: Located on that fake street from Seinfeld, this bedbug bridal barn finally answers the question, “Y’all ready to play the Feud?”

This place has everything: Hopscotch, double dutch, Oogieloves, sling and mesh bladder implants, the table from Charlie Rose. And this weekend, I’ll be having my college reunion there.

Where did Stefon go to college? UTI. I even made the Dean’s List — Dean Cain’s list of homeboys not to mess with.

Bonus: The bouncer is a king-sized lesbian who looks like Phil Jackson. And the password is “SCOTTY.” And if that isn’t enough for you, you can hit the dance floor with a room full of human magic 8-balls.

Human magic 8-balls? It’s that thing of when you ask a question, so you shake a midget until he says, “Ask again later.”

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