The Golden Arches have always been somewhat of an obsession of mine (less the food and more the phenomenon). Since Matt just wrote a bit of local McDonald's history, I thought it'd be a good time to catch y'all up on a few McDonaldland characters that have morphed or been forgotten since their inception in the early 70s.

I experienced my first eating crisis while still a child in my native Bohemia, one Sunday afternoon at church when taking the Eucharist.

I consumed the Host. A simple combination of fine wheat flour, water, yeast and salt, with a sprinkling of holy water, the seal of Theotokos imprinted upon the loaf, it nevertheless has an unusual and specific flavour. I drank the wine. It is always unlike any other wine, the flavour mild, pleasing.

Materials for the Eucharist.

The prosphoron, or holy bread, bearing the seal of the Virgin.

Saints Spiridon and Nicodemus, bakers of holy bread.

The introduction of the Host, the body and blood of Christ, into my mouth created a trauma. I felt this symbol of complete purity entering the filth of my digestive apparatus, the divine flesh polluted by contact with mucous membranes. Images of the juices of my corruptible flesh and the rot and stench of my bowels seized me with horror.

Calgary's Tubby Dog just celebrated its sixth anniversary, and since opening its doors the 17th Avenue hot dog stand has become not just a place for a quirky hot dog and/or fuel for late night drunks, but also a key part of the city's all ages punk scene. Paying tribute to all of these, local film maker Sarah Hughes unveiled her short film, aptly titled Tubby Doc with a special screening at the Uptown Theatre this past Friday night.

Tubby Doc traces the origins of Tubby Dog from owner Jon "Tubby" Truch's experiments with using hot dogs to lure patrons to the legendary Night Gallery Cabaret. For those who haven't experienced Tubby Dog, here's a taste. The A-Bomb is a dog with cheese, bacon, mayo, ketchup and mustard, topped with potato chips. Or you can go for the Cap'ns Dog, a dog with peanut butter, jam and Cap'n Crunch cereal. Me, I'm partial to the Sumo (the closest thing to Japadog I can score here), which is a dog on a bed of wasabi, topped with pickled ginger, toasted sesame seed and seasoned seaweed.

It's a quirky place with a quirky menu, but thanks in large part to the staff's connections to the local music scene (and realizing that opening a late-night hot dog stand and attending rock shows are not mutually exclusive), Tubby Dog has also become one of the best places in town to see bands. The tiny space means a small, enthusiastic crowd makes for a memorable show. Or, in Monotonix's case, nearly catastrophic when the place is well beyond capacity and the show spills out onto the street.

When FEMA bases its response strategies on whether or not you're open for business, you know you're doing a good thing.

While everyone has heard of the Big Mac Index, FEMA recently revealed their Waffle House Index, which they use to gauge the destructive aftermath of natural disasters. Since Waffle House, a US chain with over 1,600 locations from the mid-Atlantic to Florida and through the Gulf Coast, has gained a reputation for remaining open through thick or thin, any closures are assumed to mean that THINGS ARE VERY, VERY BAD.

To wit: Green means the local Waffle House in the area is carrying on business as usual, an indication that electricity is flowing and damage is scant. Yellow means it has scaled down a fair bit, implying that they're running on a temporary generator and low on inventory. Red means it's closed, one of the seven signs of the End of Times.

This, in part, is due to the Waffle House's survivalist business strategy, developed after Hurricane Katrina: be the first to hit the ground running after a hurricane strikes, and watch sales multiply two to three times when little else is around.

As Valerie Bauerlein writes for the Wall Street Journal:

"Waffle House responded to several other disasters this year before Irene hit. After a series of deadly tornadoes tore through Alabama and Georgia in late April, one restaurant was destroyed and another 20 were without power. The ones without power all reopened within three days."

Read more here.

Joe.