Sometimes I have trouble focusing. I may have an important problem and can’t figure out the proper solution. I might have a number of projects due at the same time. I also might have friends who disparage foods I like and need to focus on setting them straight.

I don’t know how all of these really started. From my best recollection and sleuthing through my online interactions, it seems as if someone I know posted an article which criticized hard tacos. Someone else agreed. That’s where I had to step in.

I could not stand by and let someone say that hard tacos did not really count as tacos. Why would anyone say something like that?

Sure, soft tacos can minimize the mess, but that doesn’t make their crunchy brethren any less delightful. The mess from hard tacos just gives you something else to eat when you’re done with what remains in the shells, as long as you make sure to let everything dribble onto your plate and not the floor.

I have never looked down at a plate full of stuff which fell out of my tacos and said, “Oh, no! More food? Yuck.” I could see where someone might say, “I like soft tacos more than hard tacos” or “I’ll get my pretty shirt dirty if I eat a hard taco,” but to say they don’t even qualify as tacos? That’s just mean.

One of my favorite comedians has a bit about Mexican food which points out that pretty much all the things we love have the same three ingredients – meat, cheese and tortilla. So who cares if the tortilla in this case is crispy and not soft? How does that disqualify the hard taco as an option?

I spent some time trying to point out many good points to justify my position without using Taco Bell as evidence, but all I did was make myself hungry for tacos on a day when I only had a short time for lunch. I tried to order tacos online from a Chipotle near my office, but I would have to wait an hour to pick up my order. I didn’t want to rub my love of hard tacos in the faces of my friends that bad.

At first, I thought I could contact my wife and set the wheels in motion for tacos for dinner, but that didn’t work either. First of all, we had a few things going on which made a family dinner impossible that night. Plus, she had plans (which she ended up backing out of) to have Mexican for lunch .

There I was on an island, the island claimed by the Society for the Defense of Hard Tacos. And the kitchen was closed.

Lucky for me, the Knights of Columbus – my favorite (and only) social club in town – had tacos that night. I took care of my errands after work, headed over there and chowed down on a few hard tacos. I made sure to let a lot of meat and lettuce fall onto my plate so I could scoop it up in defiance of my friends who put down my choice.

I didn’t even spill any on my white dress shirt. That’s what I call a good day.