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A former sign-making shop is now a bar with no sign. Add to the irony: Aside from a couple of grandma’s couches, there isn’t much to make this subterranean lair—also once a bean-sprout factory—feel like home sweet home. At best, aficionados of taxidermy and lovers of knickknacks will feel like they’ve paradoxically climbed down a stairway to heaven. The wooden bar’s illuminated diorama-like display cases show off eBay detritus like a de-necked electric guitar, dental casts, and the disembodied horse-head of a hitching post. As far as real animals go, a stuffed rabbit, an eagle, and a beaver frolic around a tree branch repurposed as a lamp stand. That sort of exoticism doesn’t carry over to the beer selection or to the D.J.’s jams (which run the gamut from Skynyrd to the Smiths), although on Tuesdays, the spillover crowd from Happy Ending’s long-running Shit Hammered party can be as freaky as the trinkets. — Daniel Maurer