CARLTON FLETCHER: Call me crazy, but I like food that you eat, not take pictures of

“Sing for your supper? Remember on the other end of a spoon a guy’s working on a song.”

— Roger Miller

I like food. I know, I know, that’s apparent.

But I am not — nor will I ever be accused of being, even if I thought “The Bear” was the best new show of the year last year … I did — a foodie. As a matter of fact, I am perplexed, dumbfounded even, by this obsession people have now with food.

Not people who like to eat food, mind you. No, I’m talking about these people who treat food like it’s some form of art. The ones who take pictures of their food and post it on Facebook, as if what they’re about to consume is one for the ages.

I like food because when I get hungry, it’s what takes care of the problem. And, sure, I have favorites, most in the fruit family (along with jambalaya, dumplings — the real ones like Mama made and Tara makes better, not these lumps of dough most restaurants call dumplings — Cuban sandwiches, grilled burgers and hotdogs, and on and on). But I have no desire to dine at an establishment that puts style over flavor (and caloric content).

I also should point out that, along with the above-mentioned gastronomical delights, I also love to chow down on filling station sausage dogs, B.J.’s fried chicken (you go, Antoine), Long John Silver’s breaded fish, honey buns, any assortment of frozen dinners and Lance Toast-Chee crackers with a Coca-Cola.

I guess what I’m saying is that I am in no way a food snob.

Yet there are people who seem to think that some meal they’ve whipped up or — usually — bought is worth sharing with the world because it looks pretty on the plate. Sorry, but I’m of the opinion that food is for tasting, not for seeing.

And while we’re talking about the stuff we eat, are we better off now that the medical profession finds something wrong with every food? Actually that should be every food that tastes good.

You can’t eat those because of your cholesterol levels. Too much sugar in that. You don’t need the carbs. That has too much salt, and you can’t eat anything cooked in grease. And gluten? Forget about it. Plus I’m lactose intolerant.

Confession: I don’t know what the hell gluten is.

But, never fear. There are always diets to keep you on the culinary straight and narrow. Keto, vegan, Paleo, Mediterranean, carnivore or, if desperation sets in, fasting. And if you’re like me and eat food because it tastes good, there are programs for the overindulgent: Noom, Weight Watchers, Nutrisystem and the like.

I have, because of one of the above-listed maladies, been forced to cut back on the intake of certain foods I love that have stuff in them that obviously are bad for me, but I don’t think even health-related issues will ever push me to the point where I ingest air, water and some paste that’s supposed to be good for you but tastes like donkey butt smells. (I think they call that the “Super Model Diet.”)

And you have my permission to kick me in the goodies on the spot without fear of retribution if you see me eating some froo-froo meal at one of those restaurants like you see on TV and in the movies where people pay outrageous sums to dine on stuff that’s made to look “stunning” but has the nutritional value and taste of twigs and berries you can pick up in any southwest Georgia wood lot. (People who do that, by the way, are not hungry. They’re just trying to show off.)

So, no, unless I’ve been overindulging in some kind of intoxicant or hallucinogenic (I don’t partake of either), you’re not going to see any kind of posts from me showing the food I’m eating, unless, of course, I’m having a meal that includes sopping a cat-head biscuit in some red-eye gravy. But, that’d just be showing off.