You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Ben Kenobi quotes aside, you will find no wise, monk-like Jedis in this dump. We can only assume from the name that the drug-addled, bikini-clad crackhoes who listlessly rub their bruised bottoms against a giant smudged mirror on the bar’s tiny stage must have taken off their tops at some point in the not so distant past. The real question that begs to be asked is: would we really want to see them nude even if Guiliani hadn’t stopped all the fun? Your basic pack of semi-homeless derelicts sit at a low counter in front of a stage that features two rather slovenly women (who don’t even bother to put their personal effects in a back room somewhere), occasionally dipping into their pockets to wave a dollar at the “performers”, who drag their feet over to the customers and pocket what amounts to 1/20 of another rock. Avoid this place like the plague, unless of course you want to catch it. [MF]
727 Sixth Ave. (at 24th St.)
