Sublime cafe fare (and gourmet takeaway) in a sunny, noisy setting crowded with suits, ladies who lunch and artsy Mass Ave types.

The Bush-era celebrates double-speak in all that it does—laws have lovely names denying the reality of what they’re doing, whatever’s said by a Bushite means the opposite and all political statements must be read to recognize how the Bushites are doing/planning/seeking exactly the opposite.

Last of all, against himself he turns his sword, but missing the mortal place, with his poniard finishes the work.

We're plastic but we'll still have fun!