I think I was in that bar, back when it hosted garage bands, and I was a postdoc at Johns Hopkins.
It was called E.J. Buggs back when. Still a dive. Still haven't cleaned the men's room.
Ah, no, wait, I was thinking of someplace else. Federal Hill, not Fells Point. They both start with Fe, and that was a looong time ago.
Man, the crappy Baltimore sports bars in Baltimore really run together in my mind. I know I went to E.J. Buggs once and decided once was enough. No live music when I went...I generally like dives that have bands regardless of how bad the band is.
For what it's worth, the Freudian chicken joke cracked me the hell up. That probably says something about me 
defenestrated, I'll be doing a whole roll of those Saturday night at the Peace Club's open mic in the Junction. I did, however, cut the econ joke -- did you hear that Adam Smith's wife divorced him, apparently it wasn't just his hand that was invisible.
His wife did leave him... because it turns out his hand was not so invisible after all.
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