As an investor, I feel like I can learn something from these personal Burger King experiences. The place really does stink. Drop me anywhere in the world and, within the radius of a city block, I can lead you to the Burger King blindfolded, Bose noise-cancelling headphones on, gagged with an Apple. All I need is my nose. In the same way that the smell of cigarettes would linger in your hair and clothes after you left a bar in the '90s, that Burger King stench attached to me like a valet's B.O. every time I left Stanek's restaurant. These flashbacks to my teenage years probably explain why I was so obsessed with the San Francisco Burger King protest. Burger King still stinks. You'll be hard-pressed to find a bar you can smoke in throughout much of America. Political philosophy aside, that's a good thing. For bartenders, for barbacks, for me and for you, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. We've evolved as a society.