Pimps, prostitutes, potentates, and politicos all belly up at Whatley's to gossip, confront a cheating spouse, or discuss the news as it flashes across one of the two TV screens. Whatley's is a no-frills kind of place: just an oval counter surrounded by barstools, wood-paneled walls, and a jukebox. There are hot dogs for sale and always fish on Fridays. The ladies tending bar pour from the bottom of the bottle, so drive carefully. And don't try to start a tab, or you'll be directed to a sign: "Pay when served so everybody stays happy -- Mr. Whatley." Sho' you right . . .