The Red & Black

I am dining at the Red & Black this evening because I can. But mostly I dine here for the weird people. I don't mean that weird like perverts, though they may be, and I'm certainly not one to judge. No I mean they're *different*. A lot of people with ropey-ass dreads come here. A lot of luddites come here to surf the internet because they refuse to own a computer at home. I imagine there are more than a few people that come in here that have an FBI dossier. Not a thick one. Not an important one. They might have a dossier like I might have:

30 something male, vocal neo-socialist. Hikes for solitude (find way to monitor possible terrorist cabal in woods) Likes dancing Transformers. Advocates education, work for all, equality (clearly anti-american). Diagnosis:harmless cafe denizen.

Intellectuals come in here. Closet rebels to a one. Tuggers on goatees, and spectacle adjusters. Women in short black jackets. Rakish men in scarves. Coming through the door right now is someone who looks like they just climbed out from a cardboard box under the bridge.

This is the Red & Black and I fit right in. Too bad they don't have Stumptown.