The pomegranate
The pomegranate is decidedly the naughtiest of all fruits. If it were a person, it would be the small child that gets sent to the principal's office every day and plays tricks from his chair when she turns her back to answer the telephone.
You know what I like about fruit? It doesn't try to be convenient. It's not worried about boosting its sales. It's not motivated to expand its line to appeal to the fast-changing preferences of teens with discretionary income. It's just fruit. It's been the same for thousands of years. It hasn't had to reposition itself or analyze its market share over time. It just grows. Takes in a bit of sun now and then. Possibly does a little shake-a-shake on a windy day. And it says things like "Hey, I'm an orange." and "If you don't like me, you can go fuck yourself and eat a banana." Could you imagine a group of oranges pensively discussing their portfolio futures for next quarter? "Hrrrmmmmyes... the success of clementines are threatening our stronghold. We must figure out a way to create minis of ourselves. America wants mini fruit, goddammit, and we will provide. Less photosynthesizing, everyone. We will cut our sun intake by 30% in the next 3 months in order to deliver results."
Baahh..
I'm deeply concerned that by the time I have children, the worthiest role models available will be foliage.
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