Years ago, I wrote a Giant Robot story about karaoke where I ended up spending a lot of time at this West Village bar called Junno's. Back then, Junno (the owner) had a sort of underground karaoke thing, mainly for friends with rules like "no group singing" and that didn't get going until about 3 a.m. I'd set my alarm for 1 a.m., take a nap, and eventually head all the way downtown to sit at the bar and just watch. Sometimes I wouldn't get home until the birds were tweeting and it was bright outside. After I finished the article, Junno's became one of my regular spots. I liked that Jerry, one of the bartenders, would put on surf DVDs for me; that Junno was always fervently debating about everything from Henry Kissinger to salad dressing, and that the bar top was sky blue. Once, I even brought an already-drunk Christopher Doyle over when I interviewed him for another GR story. Last Thursday night, I ended up back there on a whim after maybe a year of absence. Jerry welcomed me by saying how fortuitous it was that I'd come -- it was their last week. They were closing on Saturday for good. Junno's having a kid and heading back to school to become a teacher, he said. I thought he might be joking until Junno came out and said it was so. He was tired, and soon after, left. So I drank my beer, listened to Jerry tell stories about his life and when the perfect song came on, paid my tab and went home. It was the Talking Heads -- "This Must be the Place."