I love the Ethiopean place near my house. I love it because it is always full of chain-smoking Ethiopians with hard eyes who look like they would love nothing more than to catch some poor Italian alone so they can get some payback for Eritrea. Meanwhile there is always bizarre music playing and the food is excellent, but you cannot help but glance over at the dangerous looking men who occasionally mutter and glare in your direction.

In short, eating at the Ethiopian restaurant is like Soldier of Fortune Magazine in a convenient culinary format. And I love it.