Have you heard the one about the identity thief? It goes like this: A Madonna impersonator walks into a bar, but not just any bar. Our bar, our hometown bar, our Turf Club, and all the Twin Cities forgets for a moment that she's a mere copycat, a charlatan in corsets and dead animal flesh. When Lady Gaga, fresh from her show at the Xcel early in the morning on the First of September, walked into the Turf Club, she made us forget that the storied bar and venue is about rock music—real rock music, 45s in an ancient push-button jukebox, not digital downloads and highly processed pop. Allegedly, a member of her crew had suggested the bar as a good place to take in the local culture, and in turn, we took in Lady Gaga. A few Twin Citians reported having brief (but very meaningful) conversations with her, and the next day everyone from the local music press to celebrity gossip Perez Hilton was abuzz with the news. But before she got back in her Escalade and drove off into a land where Little Monsters sleep, we locals posed with this drunken swindler for photo booth portraits, we Tweeted her arrival, then her departure, and somewhere on University Avenue, a Midway drunk cried a single tear.