Two weeks ago my beloved Dugout inexplicably and officially became the Ramrod. Out went the jukebox so skillfully curated all these years by DJ Superdaddy. In came go-go boys, a leather shop, and a live DJ with a love for Britney and Madonna. Heavy, heavy sigh. A poster on the door gives the impression that “Ramrod has come back!” to its original location, but as Vanishing New York shows, the original Ramrod was actually on West Street. As you can see above, the crowds are holding up so far, although many of us have discussed moving our weekly family get-together elsewhere – even to Jersey City’s Star Bar, a new place owned by our pal Sister Betty. As I’ve noted here before, the Dugout was the first place in NYC that I actually felt “home”, after that fateful afternoon when I walked by and had my bee girl moment (start at 2:10) looking through the gates. Dammit. Dammit all to hell.