This week in the print edition, David Schmader visits Ballard's sweet new bodega, Snacks! (their exclamation mark). He likes it! And he finds a poem:

For now, Snacks! is a wide-open work in progress, a fact addressed by the two-by-four-foot wish list hanging near the door that invites customers to share their dreams for Snacks! inventory. It is the greatest poem about America since "Leaves of Grass":

Pita bread
Funyuns!
Rap Snacks
Soy creamer!
Vernors ginger ale (X2!!)
Grey Poupon
Cheap champagne
Tastykakes! (YES!!!!!!)
Shredded cheese
Sparks (black can!)
Frozen pizza
Fingernail clippers
Stash teas
Smarties (YES! Yes!)
Day of the Dead candles!
Asian snacks!
Pinball machines
Porno

I found myself at the Five Point, which remains everlastingly awesome:

The Five Point is inarguably one of Seattle's—indeed, the world's—best dive bars. It is most famous for its men's room, specifically the view from the urinal: There is a window into a janky kind of periscope, providing a startlingly close-up look at the top of the Space Needle... The Five Point has black-and-white checked floors, duct-taped upholstery, and a moose head festooned with slingshotted brassieres (notably a gigantic, dangling pink one)... The Five Point has floppy, salty fries that've never seen the inside of a freezer, and if you like an old-school open-faced turkey sandwich with gravy and mashed potatoes, you've come to the right place.

Marti Jonjak surveys happy hour at the People's Pub, providing Swabian phrases both handy and useless (arschdaggl: a fool with a big ass, granatedaggl: explosive dachshund).

And Steven Blum investigates brand-new Porchlight Coffee's hairless-mole-in-a-business-suit mascot—over here, scroll down a little.

Now it is lunchtime.