Bar-gain

Bar: 1) Noun, An object with which to strike someone and or set trap with to or for.
ex. I smashed his face with a crowbar.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Booby_trap

2) Noun, Browning Automatic Rifle, sub-machine gun popular during times of intense violence and conflict.
Ex. I just busted a cap in that Kraut with my B.A.R.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1918_Browning_Automatic_Rifle

3) Noun/ Abbreviation, Bar-mitzvah.
Ex. Hey, Jessie, come to my Barmitzvah on Saturday.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barmitzvah

4) Noun, A place where everybody knows your name/ public dispensary of adult/ alcoholic beverages.
Ex. My girlfriend left me today after I was released from my high paying job for an indiscretion which I decline to disclose because of the disciplinary dispensing institutions and law enforcing facilities will surely subject me to confinement and as such i suggest we swiftly seek shelter at a bar and get wasted, dude.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bar_(establishment)

My point is this, why do we go to bars, or rather, why do we consistently see television and movie characters traveling to bars in search of solace and advice in times of stress and uncertainty? To drink, right?
If that is your explanation, so be it. Leads me to believe that you have an alcohol problem as it would seem that you are using a controlled substance to alter your mood rather than facing what ails you which is a telling sign in diagnosing the disease of alcoholism. Given the likelihood that you are a depressed bit of goat cheese in much need of a hug I suggest you find another place to get your kicks.
On the other hand, the silver screen always shows us some sad sack laying out his problems on the bar hoping that the bar tender or some mysterious stranger will somehow guide them away from trouble and into the Sea of Tranquility and Epiphany. Sigh. I can't begin to explain to you how infuriating that scene is in every single instance save the one in an episode of the Golden Girls when Dorothy meets the fiance of her ex-husband Stan. It's a heartfelt exchange that always gets me to crack a smile.
First, the patron. If you go to a bar to drink, it is reasonable to assume that the majority of other persons in attendance are there in an effort to alleviate themselves from the joys and or burdens of everyday living. Ere go, them fools might be drunk. While it has been suggested in no less than three scientific studies that intoxication is responsible for increased honesty, it must also be noted that honesty and knowing just what the hell you're talking about are not the same thing.
Let's take the guy in our example for instance, call him Roy. Now Roy has had a wretched day. Do you suppose that some drunk can fix all of Roy's problems while they both wait for the tender of this imaginary bar to mix and mash their martinis? Let's take a look:
Sigh, "My life sucks," says Roy.
"What's the trouble, stranger," asks a stranger, "maybe I could help."
At this point, Roy gives the stranger a run down of the days events in the most pathetic tone he can muster.
"That does suck," the stranger adds, "I like your shoes."

You see? Roy is no better off now than he was before. Maybe that was a bad example, but create your own and enjoy the failure. You are no better off taking your life lessons from a guy with a P.h.D. called doctor so-and-so than you are from a guy half-full on Doctor McGillicutty's Peppermint Schnapps. However, i think it is only fair to add that those schnapps make the stream of bullshit coming from the guy's face smell much better than a stuffy office in a strip mall or office park.
Second, bar tenders might be an even more dubious source of information. The textbook relationship between tender and patron involves the tender providing a service, in this case, making drinks, while you, the patron, provide compensation, typically in the form of money or bare breasts, thus completing the cycle until you need another beverage. In a perfect world, your problems would be easily solved and more importantly, the charges would be waived or paid for as part of the tip.
Sigh.
Truth be told, the bar tender wants your money. So you, my little bag of depression and sadness stew, need to remain planted in that stool at the bar of suffering until last call is shouted into your ears and processed by a brain made painfully unaware of the amount of urine now collecting below your seat on account of you taking in something to the tune of two gallons of booze. By that time you won't really notice the bar tender cashing out your tab and handing you back your credit card and blank receipt which he has already graciously filled out for you, careful to leave himself a tip he believes suites him yet won't cause you to overdraft and screw him out of what will certainly be a lovely three-day trip down to Cabo.
While not all bar folks are money grubbing nipple twisters, don't expect benevolence to get you very far in your time of tribulation. The highway to Hell is paved with good intentions, so when the guy behind the bar suggests you confront your cheating spouse, he might not realize you just bought a three way device capable of performing the acts of a golf club, chainsaw and wood chipper, much less that blood, no matter how many speckles or samples seem to be splattered on the sides of the device, negate the warranty.
Or what about the barmaid that suggests you take more chances? What is that? Is she trying to lead you on, maybe you should walk out in front of traffic or skip those cautionary swift swirls of breath on your hot spoonful of soup before scalding your mouth. Don't wear a seat belt? Vote Republican?
At best, a person working for the establishment at which you are attempting to drown your problems is only going to make it worse by giving you dubious, erroneous or vague advice. Thanks but no thanks, I like my advice the same way I like my eggs.
Sigh.
When you boil it all down, the first definition is really the most fitting. A bar is an object with which to lay the smack down on someone or something. The mechanism, which when sprung as part of a trap, cancels a person's subscription to life, magazines and cereals need not apply. Bars are bad news boys and girls. At least in terms of solving one's problems. If, however, your goal is to get drunk, then go for it. Always in moderation though. Because if you think bars offer poor sources of advice, don't even get me started on support groups and penitentiaries. Yeesh.