I’m not sure if it’s because of all those terrible Brazilian restaurants in Midtown, but for some reason, whenever anyone mentions anything about going to a Brazilian restaurant, I’ll just assume it’s going to be incredibly meat-heavy, Pan-South American (as opposed to actually Brazilian), neon-lighted, and generally horrible.  UNTIL NOW.

December 5, 2006 Elections, Crabs and Cocaine Lima writhes and bends under its own weight; bustling, bumping, wobbling, weaving, bucking, like a city trying to decide whether to consume itself completely, or reach way down low and pull itself up by its dirty-ass bootstraps. Hustlers, hoods and thieves circumnavigate the