Last night I stopped in for a drink at Louie’s Pub (“Where friends meet!” 1659 W. North Ave) before a movie and never made it to the movie. The place is a cozy neighborhood pub with red lights all over the place and images of former singing stars plastered on the walls and tables. Oh yeah, and they have karaoke every night of the week (except Monday for some reason). I went on a Wednesday and the population of the bar peaked at 10, including the bartender and karaoke woman. There was an old Irish guy who belted out Sinatra like it was his job, complete with hand gestures and swaying. There was a toothless veteran who sang country songs in the simultaneously worst and most forlorn voice of all time. There was a young guy in a suit who was trashed and couldn’t pronounce the words even though they were all on a screen. It was like a David Lynch movie. I highly recommend it, especially when empty.