Hezbollah calls itself "The Party of God." The Republicans are a little sore about that, but Hezbollah got there first, fair and square. The advantage of calling yourself The Party of God is the succinct way it makes all the other parties seem anti-God, godless, even Satanic.
But what about me? Do I have a party? What party am I? Investigation reveals that I'm a registered member of "The Party of Food." I'm pro-food. I'm food-positive. I think food is A Good Thing. I have a benign view of food. You know those sports fans who will watch any sporting event on TV, even sports they've never played or followed or even heard of? Like curling? They are from The Party of Sports. I'm from the Party of Food, as sure as I'm a Democrat, but I'm wondering if it isn't time for me to quit.
A scary thought: How completely must I turn my coat? Does resigning as a food booster demand that I become a food basher? Do I have to be one of those insufferable people who know the fatal flaw in every dish? I hate that. I even hated it even when I was thin, even when I had no weight issues on my mind. It's such bad table manners to offer color commentary on the health dangers of everything on the menu.
So now you see how my mind works, or fails to work. Although I am never vain in matters of dress or physique, I am a flaming foppish snob in other, even more foolish ways. For the truth is, I have much to gain by turning against food: health, energy, respect. Those things are infinitely more precious than the pathetic style points to be gained, in my private tally, for being able to sound like a restaurant critic.