In light of the recent comments of American hero and self-made millionaire John Schnatter, I thought it might be worth revisiting my once-debilitating obsession with his delectable cuisine. Enjoy!
It’s safe to say that I’m a
fat guy pizza aficionado. Papa John’s is my favorite among the chain pizza “restaurants.” In fact, placing a Sunday order to PJ’s is an almost-weekly ritual during football season. Put simply, I’m a frequent customer.
Even if I had taken several days off from going to the gym, even if I had noticed a little more roundness in my face, even if I had eaten pizza at work earlier in the week, none of those fact patterns would have enough negative momentum to shame me into refraining from obtaining a pie (or two) if the mood struck me.
That’s why it’s so remarkable that I recently found myself on to the Papa John’s website, my belly empty and my head full—full of mozzarella-covered visions of gluttony, that is—and wound up logging off in disgust without ordering anything.
What could cause such a strange—some…
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