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Yet another honky-tonk,
redneck bar that seems about as out of place in the East Village as
a sports bar in Chelsea. Surrounded by area hipster joints, and "beautiful"
dives, Doc Holliday's is like a breath of stale UES air--an amazing
recreation of Brother
Jimmy's or, god for bid, American
Trash. It follows the typical pattern: grime on the floor, country
in the jukebox, female bartenders with half-shirts who only know six-packs
when they come bound with those seagull killing, plastic rings, and
some sort of cheap domestic beer that everyone says reminds them of
home. How Lone Star or Iron City reminds anybody in this place of
home is beyond us, unless of course Jersey was filled with a bunch
of steel workers or cowboys we weren't aware of. Anyway, more of the
same who-haw. If you like that kind of thing, be our guest, if not,
boot scoot yourself over to a place with some class. [MF]
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