File under Dive Bars. A misspelling aside, this bartender has a salient message behind his point -- personal responsibility is key.

Via Reddit

​

"When are you going to Keith's? Keith's is perfect for 'Dive Bomber!'"

Except it's no longer Keith's. Now it's Stan's Bar, as of January 1, anyhow, when bartender Stan took over ownership. Such is the nature of neighborhood bars, being bought by patrons or employees to continue the lineage when the old crew retires. Just like when Archie Bunker bought Kelcy's Bar. Nothing changed. Except Edith croaked. And they added a restaurant. And Archie somehow wound up raising a spunky ragamuffin.

"I put the TV on the oldies station," a man in a stocking cap tells the bartender.

More >>

Enoch Lau

​"You can sit by me. I don't bite. I've had all my teeth pulled. Declawed, lobotomized, circumcised -- I'm safe," said the cigar smoker perched at the end of the bar at Melrose Club.

Despite the purported surgical procedures, he was full of jokes. "I went to that fundraiser for Jim Long and learned lots of new black jokes," said he, then launched into an ancient joke about an African-American child being unable to spell the word "electrician." Except he didn't use the word African-American.

Or black.

"I'm not prejudiced," he said. "I hate everyone. You ever read the Whirl? It's hilarious!"

He gets the bartender to hand him a copy of the legendary local fishwrap from behind the bar, chuckling as he reads aloud headlines about "two-legged jackals."

"Stay away from streets named after states," he chortles. "Hey, I've got another joke. This one's not dirty at all. The teacher asks a boy to use the word 'fascinate' in a sentence. Kid says, 'My aunt's got such big titties that her sweater has ten buttons but she can only fasten eight.' See? That's one's not dirty."

More >>

Robin Wheeler

Rockin' Gators Bar & Grill

​There are three customers at Rockin' Gators Bar & Grill, not counting the inflatable alligator that hangs from the ceiling. The Cardinals game plays with the sound off in a bar that's silent -- save for one patron loudly talking bugs. She's named one of them Fucker. At least, that's what she calls him.

"It's normally not so quiet," the bartender says.

The bugs in question aren't at the bar. They're in someone's house. While the bar's clean enough to discourage bugs, it doesn't seem like the type of place where one would order sushi. It's available, though.

The woman also seems to have either a dog or cat she calls Fucker, mostly because it recently crapped on the floor. "But it wasn't soft. It was hard, like it had been there for awhile. But I know it wasn't there when I left the room so I know little Fucker had to have done it. But it was hard!"

Sushi really doesn't sound appetizing at all. But the following menu item -- a tub of five cans of beer and a free coozie -- might go down nicely at this point.

More >>

image credit

The Dive Bomber doesn't.

​At 9 p.m. on Thursdays, Ladies Night begins at D's Place. And on this night at nine on the dot, twentysomething women and a few guys trickle into the bar, which skirts the edge of Soulard for $5 bottomless cups. Most of them are already tipsy (at the very least).

An older man at the end of the bar mutters that he's going to buy some peanut M&Ms and get the hell out. Which he does.

"Why are you here alone?"

It's the oldest line in the book, asked by a young man in a wheelchair. His arms are weak, and he navigates by blowing into a straw.

"Just needed to get out for a bit."

"Did you walk here?"

More >>

Robin Wheeler

​At Second Reading Book Shop in Alton, Illinois, the owner tells two young ghost hunters, "I can say from personal experience that there aren't any ghosts in this building, but I've seen some really scary creatures going into the bar next door."

Later that evening, no one next door at Mike's Ten-Pin Lounge seems all that frightening. The bartender threatens to get scary if her replacement doesn't show up. The demands of her patrons aren't helping, either. Every time the jukebox changes songs, they scream for her to turn it up or turn it down.

"I'm sick of trying to please everyone. If I did that I'd be in rehab," she says before doing a shot of Jäger (her third).

Her replacement arrives fifteen minutes early. She's younger, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. She wears little makeup and has her curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. As the retiring bartender does a little dance of joy, the new bartender walks behind the bar and drops trou.

More >>

In its continuing dive-bar special, Chow.com recently listed the fourteen elements you need to have a proper dive bar, along with nationwide examples of bars that exemplify these qualities.

Not surprisingly, St. Louis has its own shining examples of each quality.

1. Come Up With a Cool Name Keegan Hamilton covered this territory in January, with his Ten Best Bar Names in St. Louis. Example: Mary's Blue Ribbon Lounge.

More >>

www.wattstax.com

Who's making love at Sportsman's Tavern? Johnnie Taylor, that's who.

​The thump of music emitting from Sportsman's Bar can be heard while crossing Jefferson on a Wednesday night. It sounds more like a Saturday, complete with a guy leaning on a car outside the bar, yelling into a cell phone. In the tiny vestibule, two people huddle, perturbed at being interrupted by someone who dares to enter the already packed bar.

All the barstools are full, and everyone's bouncing in tune to the banging music. "Hey Girl!" a young guy in a Rally's costume yells, his cap turned backward, not pausing in his bounce to the late, great Johnnie Taylor's "Who's Making Love."

The jukebox in the corner's turned off. The music's loud enough to be a live band, but where? The corner of a pool table and six players is visible from the back room. The hallway between the bar and back room is full of dart players, dancing and shooting. There's not even room for a DJ.

More >>

Foley's Tavern sits on the quiet far-west end of Main Street, just a normal neighborhood bar. Here they adhere to the Illinois smoking ban, which means there're usually a few people sitting outside for a smoke with their Stag. Third-shift workers stop here in the morning for their version of a nightcap. Retirees hang out for a drink after rounds of golf.

But on St. Patrick's Day? Good luck getting in the door, because Foley's is giving away all-you-can-eat corned beef, cabbage and potatoes.

Suddenly everyone's Irish.

Robin Wheeler

Still life with Stag

​"I'm 100 percent German!" a heating and cooling repairman cackles. He came in to fix the air conditioner, then called it a day with a full plate and a beer. "I can't believe all the people here!"

More >>

There's a man perched on a barstool at Behrmann's Tavern, nodding off between sips of his Jack and Coke. He hardly flinches when a couple walks by, setting off a frenzy of angry barking from what sounds like a pack of dingos next door.

image credit

Even the Dive Bomber just has to skedaddle sometimes.

​He doesn't flinch when the owner, a hulking cross between Motörhead's Lemmy and porn legend Ron Jeremy yells at the young new bartender and calls him Lurch for being too slow as he makes the dozing man's third Jack and Coke in twenty minutes. He doesn't seem to mind when the mix CD ends and the employees debate what to play next (since the radio sucks and the cable's shut off).

He looks up a bit when another man enters the bar, announcing, "My wife and I have been outside exchanging 'I love yous', even though we're getting fucking divorced on March 23rd. She thinks she's the first woman to call me an asshole? I been married three times. There are two others before her and will probably be more."

More >>