“Look asshole, you’re writing this stupid, fucking novel about White’s Tavern, only you need to take a closer look at the people you’re writing about. Death is all around them. It’s a disease. And whether they drink it, shoot it, snort it, eat it, swallow it, breathe it or fuck it, everyone in that place, including you and me, are pregnant with it. Everyone in White’s spends all the money they got just to get a taste of it and feel it inside their bodies. It’s a taste of the grave and they get off on it. We all know death is coming, including everyone in White’s, only everyone in White’s just teases it until it finally comes.”
A harsh, jaw-dropping story of a small bar in a small, mob run Chicago suburb in 1973, where fights, frights, drugs, hard-core drinking, camaraderie, philosophical conversations, politics, and dying took place on a daily basis. It’s a fascinating blend of fact and fiction that will keep you thinking about your own life long afterward.
