We have qualms with the phrase “I enjoy a good dive bar ” the trite note ladies will chirp at us on any given day in LA. First, no, they wouldn’t and second, ain’t none in LA anyhow. What would an LA dive be, one that doesn’t serve tuna tartare appetizers? Now the filthy, degenerate stinking-of-death Mars Bar which clings to the carcass of the Lower E like a virulent tumor is what we’d call a dive, but there’s nothing good about it. And certainly nothing within the confines of LA County comes close to this the dump. Last time we visited it was just to pee, and there was no damn toilet, just a bubbling hole in the plywood flooring for us to piss in-and no matter what the LA Weekly says, everyone in LA who babbles about enjoying a “good dive bar” should be marched through this shit hole.
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