The Dancin‘ Bare is what I see when I stand at my Max stop. It’s one of those neighborhood institutions that I don’t want to get all huffy and protest-y and start petitions and force it to close, but I would be quite happy if it ceased to exist. (Portland International Raceway is the other one.) I can tell you, though that I will not be eating any meal there, even if they are offering a plate of eggs and hash browns to go along with their strippers.