San Francisco’s Finest Gay Dives
Aunt Charlie’s Lounge
Tenderloin
The carpet probably hasn’t been replaced since the mid-70s, there’s one of those flammable-stuffed-animal crane games up front, and Anthony the toothless bartender is the sweetest thing to happen to the Tenderloin since the advent of crack. Don’t miss the Hot Boxxx Girls, Fri-Sat 10 PM.
Ginger’s Trois
Downtown
Though Damron Guides cite a “professional crowd” and a recent makeover and change of ownership has brightened up the inside a bit, our experience of Ginger’s leans more toward wheelchairs and Cutty Sark neat on a Tuesday afternoon. Not exactly a late-night destination, but a good bet for a gayische happy hour crowd replete with bobo financiers and retail queens.
Hole in the Wall Saloon
SOMA
Expect a selection of leather daddies and pool-hustling cubs at this Harley-friendly dive recently relocated to Folsom Street. It opens at noon and it’s about bottled beer and hankies around here, so don’t even think about ordering a fucking Cosmo. Also, the occasional patron craps outside the door for our viewing pleasure.
Gangway
Polk Gulch
841 Larkin Street
The bandana’d and rolled-jeans bicycle crew takes the place over twice a month at Chrome and Manquake, but most nights the Gangway is the sort place where old guys have slurred shout-fights about the names of Elizabeth Taylor’s husbands and who got more tail during the war.
The Men’s Room
Castro
3988 18th Street
It’s a bit like a ski lodge in this tiny joint on 18th, complete with 60s canister fireplace in the back corner, and it’s perfect for a weeknight birthday because you and your friends can basically take over the place and own the jukebox, which isn’t half bad. Also, a nice escape from the usual shitshow up the street on a Saturday night–the kind of place you can watch a closed-captioned PBS on Broadway special while sipping some Scotch and working through a breakup.
Easternbloc
OUT Magazine may have divorced itself corporately from its not-fit-for-the-gay-coffee-table Liberation Publications siblings (Men, Freshmen, Unzipped), but that doesn’t mean it’s given up the skin-mag ghost. In the November issue, celebrity chest-hair-sporter Tom Ford unbuttoned more than just his shirt, appearing buck naked in a photo shoot with two actual models. 
The mustachioed granddaddy of back-alley fag enhancers, “poppers” is the name given to any number of alkyl or amyl nitrates found these days in little bottles labeled as “room odorisor” or “VCR head cleaner” with brand names like “Rush” and “BANG!!” and “Jungle Juice.” The drug was originally a treatment for angina, and got its street name from being sold in small glass ampules that made a popping sound when they were crushed to release their vapors. Once blamed for the ‘gay virus’ that appeared in 1981 (they now think that was something else), poppers are still said to cause temporary weakening of the immune system. After the jump, our complete field guide.
Wonkette made our Thursday not just for referring to Congressman Larry Craig as “gay restroom goblin Larry Craig,” but for posting 
Oh, Zac. Don’t be coy. We know there’s something you’re dying to come out and say – at least as soon as the current hype dies down and you’ve already done the rehab thing and maybe packed on a couple pounds and your agent’s desperate for a new angle. Is it such a stretch to suggest that someone starring in a High School Musical (or 2) could be a little, uh, bohemian? 
An organization called the 
Zach Sire can’t believe that he gets paid to write about porn stars, but is more than happy to do so because how else would be pay for his Jägermeister and his addiction to porn? (Actually, he doesn’t have to pay for porn anymore since he started editing The Sword). In 2007, he graduated journalism school in Southern California and moved to New York where he thought he’d “make it big.” That didn’t happen. So, he moved back to Southern California and lived on his drag queen friend Jewels’ couch. After suffering(!) through odd jobs in advertising and at print publications, he finally found his home blogging here at The Sword. He’s happy now. 
