Now, however, a dive implies the kind of no-frills, incandescently-lit, happy hour staple enjoyed by young professionals and old barflies alike. It means somewhere you'll get a cold beer, a sporting event on T.V. (no matter how obscure), and conversation with good bartenders who don't pretend to know any shirt-gartered mixological mastery. They'll make you a Negroni, sure. But there's a very slight chance you'll be looked at askance.
Dive bars are the ultimate modern contradiction. The whole idea of a dive bar is that it should be unappealing, maybe vulgar, crass, and downright unpleasant for everyone except a few die-hard loyalists who keep it in business. Usually dirt cheap, it should be dark, dirty, and dingy. The counters should be sticky, the bathrooms should have broken tile, and the location should be somewhere that has never seen the light of day.