Bartender's lament: Server to stripper: "I'm not going to eat your quesadilla."The grandmama of Portland strip clubs—open every day since 1954 on one of the scariest corners left on West Burnside Street—is neither particularly creepy nor especially dirty. Nah, as a matter of fact, this tiny, legendary joint is downright homey. If, y'know, your home has a brass pole, a jukebox heavy on Van Morrison, and a giant nautical mural. One of these days some collector is inevitably going to buy the whole joint for a museum of Portland history, so get your jollies in while you can. Cover Fridays-Saturdays ($2). STRIPPERS, VIDEO POKER, GAMES, HAPPY HOUR. (BW)