Ever tried out being a commercial slumlord? No? But you must try it! Really, nothing like it in the world. What's that you say? You don't know where to start? Well now, pull up a chair, pour yourself a lukewarm can of Schlitz, and everyone's favorite bachelor uncle will tell you all about setting up the commercial space for a dive bar.

Now I know what you're going to say, something about that whole "liquor license" nonsense that your state's government will whine on about, but don't let some bureaucratic nitpicking get in the way of your dream.

To begin, you must find the part of town that most fits your Dive Bar Personality Test (rate each on a Tolerance Scale of 1 through 5, 1 being Least Tolerant, 5 being Most Tolerant):

1. Will you allow women with hairy armpits in your lease premises?

2. What's your tolerance for blather about whose favorite band/movie/naked play is more indie?

3. How do you feel about college students shotgunning beer cans in the establishment?

4. Where do you stand on cougars, bathroom sex, and cover bands of limited talent?

5. Does the sight of ten gallon hats send you into a belligerent rage at the expense of tractor-owners nationwide?

Now that you've decided that you are least tolerant of rednecks and most tolerant of hippies and hipsters, it's time to find an abandoned alcove in the artsy-shartsy part of town. Don't worry, you'd be amazed how many hairy, misfortunately-dressed people you can fit in 300 square feet.

Next, it's time to install the actual bar. Your great-aunt's old horizontal refrigerator will suffice (she's blind with dementia and won't even know it's gone for a solid two weeks), provided you have at least 3 blind, demented great-aunts, and then a few 2x4s from Home Depot will have the job done.

No dive bar is complete without a pool table, and this is the tricky part. You'll have to steal it from somewhere, but given the girth and weight of the average pool table, it will require an Herculean effort. I recommend dating someone whose parents own one, slipping them all a fizzy pill, and calling in your less scrupulous friends to help move the thing to your truck.

We're getting close. Darts will help distract the clientele from the fact that they're all unfathomably boring individuals with little to discuss except the latest edgy performance artist bent on publicly circumcising himself, and additional distractions might include hookahs, oxygen bars, and midget bartenders.

Finally, you might ask, where will you find a sucker dumb enough to sign a lease agreement on this thing? Here's the unfortunate catch: you'll probably have to run the place yourself. The good news? Your friends will come drink there, and keep you in business so long as you all don't drink up any possible profits.

So live the dream, hire that dwarf, and pray frantically every night that the local Liquor Board doesn't discover your little covert operation!