i will def link to this on CHB this week.

Thanks for the kudos (I think). You need not worry about “the rules” being a set-up for sentimentality; it is purely our attempt to be democratic. Since the staff here at The Bed Stuy blog represents a mix of ethnicities and social backgrounds – and I am assuming this may be an apt representation of our readership – we are not looking specifically for dive bars or places stuck in a time warp, but places where our varied selves as well as our varied readers could feel comfortable tossing one back.

I suppose we could get into a bit of a pickle here in wielding our power to decide which bars are worthy of our green light; clearly there’s a fine line between determining whether a bar is of the type that tends to attract a certain kind of clientele (like the club Vettie Vette recommended above), but that is welcoming toward anyone who walks in the door, or if it’s a bar patronized by a very specific crowd who tends to be unwelcoming or even threatening toward anyone who doesn’t look like or adhere to the lifestyle promoted by that crowd.

The Changeling and I tend to be able to mix well with many types of people, and we’ve also experienced our fair share of closed-minded, cliquish, A-holes, so our goal in subjecting ourselves to cocktailing at various establishments around the neighborhood is to find the spots with a welcoming vibe and a crowd that is open to, and capable of, having a friendly conversation with patrons of any background. I’m sure that anyone who’s looking for the more specialized dens of debauchery can hit the latest issue of TimeOut, no?

It occurs to me this is dissertation material for some intrepid sociologist. Great idea. And I’m particularly impressed by how you’ve managed not to sentimentalize, which is a trap I think is easy to fall into. But I wonder if the “rules” you’ve set up don’t somehow set sentimentality as a precondition despite your self-effacing presentation as “battle-axes”. Beer through a straw? Beer bottle served with a bar napkin tucked deftly into the opening? Bartender with fingernails so long filigreed as to render her hands useless behind the bar? Hand-lettered signs with glitter-paint announcing weekly events and specials? Yes, yes, yes. Yes. We’re talking about our nostalgia for something that doesn’t recognize itself as nostalgic.