KGB: Joseph McCarthy, eat your heart out. East Villagers who don’t mind getting blacklisted (so long as they get drunk in the process) are stumbling upstairs to this stealth-like literary haunt. KGB’s not quite at the speakeasy status its name might imply, but the former Ukrainian socialist headquarters definitely dabbled in sketchy activities. Everything is on the up and up these days, and the most questionable happenings are the Jack Kerouac groupies sucking up to the latest breakout writer who is busy peddling new material during the regular reading series the bar hosts. Flavored vodka is the house specialty, but remember that trying to pay with a credit card in these cash-only digs will get you sent back to Siberia faster than you can say “Karl Marx.”
|
