What happened, Castlebar?

There was this nice dive bar in Brighton where I used to drink Bud Lights and play darts back when that was what I used to do. It was named Castlebar, though some people called it the "Black Lung Lounge," for even after the state banned smoking in bars, there still seemed to be a haze that lingered beneath the drop ceiling.

The typical Friday night clientele was paint-spattered, drunk and often singing Irish songs over the strains of the juke box.

But because the neighborhood is increasingly full of people like me, the bar decided to upgrade. I lament the passing.

The two tiny, tinny 13-inch TVs are gone, replaced by half a dozen flat screen HD panels. The taps are new. There's a Big Buck Hunter video game in place of the second dart board.

The saddest part of the whole thing is the drink special I noticed with a friend of mine earlier this month: The Pumpkintini.

We asked the bartender, maybe incredulously, "You sell a lot of those?"

"I could sell a Eat-Shit-and-Die-tini, if I put it up on that board."

Guess you can take the dive out of the bar, but not the bartender.