text: name changed to \"Nate's Place\"\n\nhow do i explain this joint?\n\nit's been around for quite some time, and since moving nearby, jsut recently began coming up in the radar of nearby dive bars.\n\npros: i can ride my bike here. the new owner is cool. they do poker tournaments. they do karaoke. for a dive they have nice beers on tap, like harp, guiness, ace pear and kiltlifter. they have food (never tried it, though). \n\ncons: standard stuff that goes along with a dive bar, but that's kind of what makes it fun to go there. my favorite old bar fly is Einstein (so nicknamed by my former roommate for his wild, white hair); he speaks in these sort of half sentences all the time - you get either the first part or the tail end of any thought that happens into his head. he favors the ladies (shocking, i know), and although seems out of it, is surprisingly lucid at 1 a.m. for example, he was going on about a sort of conspiracy theory, and to placate him and being my usual sarcastic self, i commented \"ah, i see, it's all coming together now.\" at which point, whithout missing a beat, he responded, \"i don't care if it all falls apart.\" and launched right back into his half-sentence tale of the collusion de jour. well played, einstien. \n\nanyway, back to cons: it is waaaay too bright inside here for a bar of that caliber. and, the karaoke patrons tend to be the ones trying to take their serious shot at american idol - i heard more sappy pap country love songs and creed than i can handle. i guess i'm used to more upbeat or fun karaoke, not  this, \"i'm seriously belting a love song in a dive bar at midnight on the weekend\" variety.\n\nit's got outside seating area with tables, but the view is terrible - kyrene road right at baseline in a kind-of strip mall. \n\nmore cons:  they only have a beer and wine license... that means no shots... or no shots made with any liquor that has over 12 percent alcohol content or something. weird, right? \n\nthe last three times i visited Nate's Place I left either immediately after or before finishing my first beer, and the last straw was a Thursday night when I took my beer on the patio to escape the way-too-loud  creed karaoke to find a very strange group of crack heads. I blatantly studied the dynamic of the group - they were loud and seemingly begging for and def enjoying the attention - and came to the conclusion that the mid to late 20's gentlemen fancied hisself a pimp; I swear to god he even rocked a cane. He dressed white trash meth-ghetto and had what appeared to be a strung out prostitute in tow. I haven't been back since.