Jewel of the Bile ...

M sent me this link from Gophila.com. It's a recent review from some out of towner who actually enjoyed spending some time at my local watering hole. Although I think the reviewer was trying to be a little P.C., so I've decided to include the translation within his posting (blue italics)...

The Post
A gay jewel in the dark

Hidden among parking garages on one of the darker sides of Rittenhouse Square, the Post is easy to miss (someone refuses to change the burned out light bulb over the door), but you shouldn't. This bar harkens back to a time where gay bars were hidden among the shadows, left to only those in the know (like the infamous "Elephant Graveyard"). When you open the Post's door, you'll feel as though you've been let onto a great secret (a secret so great, even the local utility companies don't know it's there).

Trolling around Chancellor Street will lead you to this pleasant dive, with warm, red walls decorated with homoerotic art (muscular ass pictures...can't really say anything bad here). The crowd veers older and tends to talk about the issues of the day around the horseshoe-shaped bar. The drinks are strong, the company is loyal and the mood is mellow (see Elephant Graveyard comment above).

All in all though, I gotta say, with as much criticism about The Post that I write on this blog, it's still one of my favorite places to hang out. I'm beyond that stage in my life where I want to go to a big dance club and have the house music beating into my head like an ape in an old Samsonite commercial, pay for expensive drinks and stand in a corner watching the assortment of cliques all tweaked out on crystal meth, gyrating on the dance floor. Even if I wanted to talk to one of these guys, the chances of keeping their attention focused on the conversation at hand are lower than Rosanne Barr's chances of being asked to sing another national anthem. I like the people who hang out at The Post and I like being able to hold a conversation with the person sitting next to me without having to lean in and scream into his ear with the hopes of him being able to decipher what I'm saying by being able to pick out a few key words.