The Comet’s done a fine job of getting people drunk since 1948. More recently—for a long time—it was a place to see hearing-impairing punk bands, get beer spilled on you, and generally experience the disappearing joys of anti-gentrification. These days, the Comet no longer has tattered barstools or two footprint outlines worn through the linoleum in front of each toilet in the women’s room, the Comet serves food (previously unthinkable), and the Comet is only hosting live music a few times a month.