I enjoy eating a variety of food, including American, Indian, Zambian, Ethiopian, Chinese and Italian.  In fact, I'll eat almost anything that tastes good and doesn't have more than eight legs.

But I haven't yet developed a taste for Japanese food, much to my wife's dismay.  Every time we pass a Japanese restaurant, her eyes light up and she says, "Hey, let's eat some sushi!"  I immediately recall my last encounter with sushi and say, "No, let's eat some grass instead!  It's free and millions of cows seem to enjoy it."

Whenever someone mentions sushi, the first thought that crosses my mind is "raw fish."  But, as connoisseurs of Japanese food have pointed out to me, sushi is more than just raw fish.  Sometimes it's raw fish rolled inside sticky rice and seaweed.  That's much more appetizing.

Actually, it's quite a brilliant combination: Once you've had the seaweed, the raw fish tastes great.

Next time I go to the beach, I'll have to remember to save the seaweed.  I could surprise my wife on her birthday.  "Look, honey, I've made you a special dinner: stir-fried seaweed!  And in case you enjoy other weeds, I've also cooked milkweed, tumbleweed and ragweed.  Nothing but the best for my woman."

I'm not trying to insult the Japanese.  Trust me, if I wanted to insult any people, I wouldn't pick on the ones who've made so many products I rely on, including my car, telephone, TV, VCR, radio, Walkman, microwave, boom box, and computer, to name just a few.  If it weren't for the
Japanese, I'd be almost Amish.

I respect the Japanese so much, I'm willing to accept that my distaste for sushi is a personal shortcoming.  Sushi is obviously an acquired taste and I'm too cheap to acquire it.  I don't deserve to eat my fish raw.

I'm sure the Japanese know what they're doing when they prepare food.  After all, they're the longest-living people in the world.  According to the most recent figures, Japanese women can expect to live to 85, while men can live to 78.  If someone guarantees that I'll live to 78, I'd be willing to eat seaweed nine times a day.  I'd even smoke it and floss my teeth with it.

As it is, my wife will live to be 100 and I'll croak at 52.  That would give her 48 years to enjoy sushi.  By then, there'll probably be a Japanese restaurant on every American street and sushi will be more popular than sex.  I can just see the bumper sticker: "Sushi-eaters do it in the raw."

America already has more than 5,000 sushi restaurants.  And as if that isn't bad enough, all the Japanese folks here insist on making sushi at home and sharing it with their friends.  I think it's important for friends to share with each other, but some things - sushi, marital secrets, underwear - are better left unshared.

Just the other day, my wife and I were invited to a Japanese friend's house for a dinner party.  One of our hosts, without warning, passed around raw slices of red snapper, along with a tube of wasabi, a hot Japanese horseradish.  A female guest squeezed a thick layer of wasabi on her fish, confirming my suspicion that she was suicidal.

Within a few seconds, I saw fumes coming out of her nostrils.  "Oh my goodness," I shouted.  "Somebody get the fire extinguisher!  Her nose is on fire."

But nobody else was concerned.  They just watched as she consumed several more pieces of raw fish.  I didn't realize it then, but I had learned a valuable rule in sushi etiquette: If someone else is willing to finish it, let them.

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