The Lief Bar and Grill

One of the cool things about living in Sunset Park is that on any given night should want to booze it up, you have, literally, a zillion options. The yuppified watering holes of Park Slope are but 10 or 15 minutes away with the guido and Irish haunts of Bay Ridge even closer. That’s not even mentioning the handful of dives in Sunset Park, each of which will be visited and blogged about at some point. Throw in the fact that the National Supermarket on 47^th and 4^th sells sixers of Dogfish 60-Minute IPA for the absurdly low price of $8.99 and four-packs of 90-minute IPA for the even more absurd $5.99 and I can’t complain about my drinking options.

Last night, a friend who lives in Bay Ridge and I were going to meet at The Lief Bar and Grill — not sure why Grill is in the name. Never seen anybody cook there and I doubt one would eat the swill even if they did cook — on 5^th Avenue and Senator in the Ridge. During a previous stint of living in Sunset Park some six years ago, I spent quite a few nights and, since I was unemployed for several months following September 11^th, even afternoons. I never had a bad time. The crowd was always somewhat eccentric, with older barflies of both sexes holding court, and a hodgepodge of everybody else that lives in the neighborhood. Have things ever changed at The Lief. And not for the better.

Popped in last night around 10:30 and felt like I had stumbled into a really, really bad frat party. The meathead quotient was off the charts, as buzz cuts and Abercrombie and Fitch gear seemed to be The Lief’s official uniform with Coors or Bud Light cans the official drink. It wouldn’t have surprised me if most of the dudes drinking there last night had come straight from seeing the new Rambo flick. Making things worse was the fact the Golf Channel was on the most of the tv’s, which is always a bad sign. A good dive, or bar for that matter, should, under no circumstances, show the Golf Channel. Especially not on a Friday night.

As I settled in to down my Bud — an imperial pint for $4 — I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation the four shorthairs next to me where having. That’s when The Lief went from being merely a crappy bar to a complete waste of space. Imagine my surprise when the lead douchebag decided to entertain the other three with a litany of N-word jokes. Barely able to contain my rage and tongue, I tried to down my Bud as quickly as I could before I smashed my glass upside lead douchebag’s head, thereby earning a weekend in Brooklyn lock-up and, in all likelihood, some time at Rikers.

Fortunately, my pal GGW wandered in, took a look around said, “Finish your beer and let’s bail on this shithole.” Which is exactly what we did.

Since people were smoking at The Lief, I called New York City’s 311 today and reported them. That’s what happens when you provide a haven for racist cocksuckers. Enjoy your fucking fine…

Happy Hour: Ain’t nothing about this shithole.

Who Would Like It: Confederate sympathizers, steroid users, David Duke, Brendan McGuirk, assholes.

Prices: Who gives a shit?

Huckle Factor: Zilch

Split Lip Factor: 5 of 5.

If This Bar Was A Celebrity: Bill O’Reilly.