You got naturally selected, bitch.

I'd like to think I respect grass. At least, when I see some baby shoots in my path I attempt to skip over, so as to cause minimal damage. I will not however, divert my route entirely for the sake of some fucking grass. Given this, I was mildly offended when, on my way to work this morning, I was approached by a burly grounds keeper who was thoroughly pissed off at what he saw as a mistreatment of his emerging foliage.

I took a couple of seconds to consider my response, "Do you even realise how this grass got to be here in the first place?" I said,
"Aye lad, I planted it here meself"
"You're not grasping the bigger picture," I scoffed, "this grass exists only by virtue of a process of natural selection, whereby the strongest blades - those best suited to the environment they habituate - go on to survive. In the wild, this grass has to endure myriad attacks from all corners of its largely futile and miserable existence. Over hundreds-of-millions of years, this has led to the perfection of the grass you so love and nurture."

I'd run out of things to say but nevertheless continued, "so can you not see that by caring less about the health of your grass, we all contribute to the ongoing improvement of the species? Who knows, a few thousand years of lawn neglect could lead to the emergence of plant-intelligence and world-wide grass domination. In some parallel universe of unknown spatio-temporal location, there's probably a giant blade of grass writing a ridiculous and entirely fabricated story on his shit blog about how it's ok to stamp on babies heads because it progresses the species in the long term"

"Well that's a good point there lad" said the grounds keeper.

I must say I was surprised by this response. I expected him to be bewildered and confused by an apparent intellectual argument which had quickly descended into an absurd, self-indulgent rant. But he must have grasped some meaning from my vague whimsical sentences when he laid me out with an impressive right hook.

As I lay there watching him race off on his shitty little lawn mowing go-kart, spraying fresh cuttings into my poor swollen face, I thought to myself, "Who was the winner in all this?"

Me!  I was fucking right. I proved my own point by taking a punch to the face, probably the purest form of justification and elucidation for any point in the history of homo-argumental consciousness.