It is what it is.

You can have a good time here if your expectations are adjusted accordingly.

It's a very basic Chicago bar, a sort of cinderblock hut in the middle of a corner lot parking lot in McCook, one of the weird industrial suburbs off the canal, the kind with zero residents that one assumes is basically a tax dodge.

I stopped by mid-afternoon. There were maybe four or five patrons, mostly older white guys; a grizzly old bartender, friendly enough; and four or five mostly MILFy dancers wearing lingerie and tights.