Tonight will be the last show at legendary underground New York club CBGB.

Patti Smith will fittingly take the stage.

For me, this is like me being a Muslim and having Mecca close before I can make a pilgrimmage. :)

You can read this CTV.ca story for background as to why. To see some early performance footage of the legendary Ramones there (pic below), rent the DVD End of the Century (here's my review).

Now, the club is planning to re-open in Las Vegas. Owner Hilly Kristal is trying to move every physical thing he can to the new venue, right down to the urinals.

However, can you recreate spirit? Can you recreate a time to go with a place?

CBGB's moment in the sun came in the mid to late 1970s. Kristal, who opened it in 1973, says it didn't start making money until 1976. And by 1978, the heyday of the first wave of punk was almost over.

Please refresh my memory as to the major bands that got their start at CBGB from 1985 onward.

Kristal thinks there's a thriving punk and hardcore scene in Vegas. Maybe some great new bands will emerge via exposure at the new CBGB.

I just hope the place doesn't become a creepy museum. While I love the music of that mid-1970s era, the creative process must move on. If the "new" CBGB doesn't help give birth to a new generation of angry, discordant iconoclasts who piss in the face of the status quo, then its purpose on this earth is at an end.

But even if that's true, there's still a place for it in my music heaven, given its role as an incubator for all the great bands that so enriched my life. And for Mr. Kristal: As to your philosophy of originality first, technique second, and belief in taking a chance on new artists, I can only say thanks. You are a very cool guy.

Image Metrics, a California company, has developed software that clones someone's face -- if not their soul.

A look at official Russian reaction to the murder of investigative journalist Anna Politkovskaya.

This NYT article has the goods.

Important caveat: The threshold for "affordable" is US$200 per night or less.

Two young women are sitting together on a TTC streetcar.

One of them chats with someone on a cellphone, telling them she'll be home soon and they'll have a cocktail together.

"That was my gay boyfriend," she told her friend.

"He's perfect in every way ... except for one thing."

She continued: "I'm trying to get him interested in girls again."

"Like you?" inquired the friend.

"Well, no," she said with a hint of defensiveness before adding, "there'd have to be a trial run first."

But then she dropped a hint the reclamation project might not go so well: "He's always talking about hard cocks."