"Reverse Natural Selection as shown by Christmas Trees: A (NOT AT ALL) scientific paper by Kellen Riley."

Think back to your childhood X-mas's (or to use the ancient spelling Christmas), think of the tree, perfectly symmetrical, gleaming brightly with tinsel, ornaments, lights, candy canes, bells, whistles, an evergreen testament to mans (or at least our dad's) ability to select the perfect tree, and fell it in it's prime to act as an umbrella for the truckloads of loot Santa's jolly red ass is gonna haul down the chimney. Even if you ended up with 15 pairs of new socks, and no Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock and a thing which tells time (that exact gun doesn't exist btw :( you were still the happiest kid in that split moment before the living room became a maelstrom of wrapping paper, tape, and packing peanuts. And at the center of it all (physically if not spiritually) was that perfect X-mas tree... Oh and your family of course... yea they're kinda important I guess.

Some reading this may not celebrate X-mas, or any facsimile there of. So you probably have no idea what I'm rambling about. All I can say is "sorry", but who says you need to celebrate anything to go wandering around a tree lot for a couple hours?

But I digress, this particular essay is in regards to that perfect tree of yore, and the sad state of... "Fullness" and "Symmetry" in the current stock of trees. A trend that I couldn't help but notice last weekend during a semi sleep deprived search for that "Perfect X-Mas Tree." All the trees seemed sub par when compared to the picture in my head of what the ideal X-mas tree should look like. Too short, too tall, too fat, not fat enough, too crooked, janky tops, abstract bottoms, and every one missing large patches in random places, not unlike my current dating situation.

Is it that, when looking back with wistful memories on a childhood (good or otherwise) we view these happy moments as much better than they were? Was it careful and strategic placing of those key ornaments, draping of tinsel, a well built corner, and a sturdy tree stand that engineered the poky sweet smelling ideal of what a great X-mas tree should look like? Could the media have hammered into our minds that "Norman Rockwell" dream of a white X-mas, mom in her 'Kerchief and pa in his Cap? (I freely admit I have no idea what those are.)

Or is there something grander, something more insidious taking place here. I put forth to you the reader that X-mas trees are not in sorry condition because of the above reasons, but because of human impact on the actual biology and 'evolution' of X-mas trees.

That's right, "Natural Selection."

This is by no means a new notion. There have actually been quite a few papers published on how hunting affects natural selection. The base idea is the same, if hunting a Deer, Bear, T-Rex, Human, or perfect X-mas tree, we go for the best. In nature, the strongest survive and spread their genes. The weaker, slower, yadda yadda yadda become dinner. With hunting however, we prize the biggest, strongest, most dangerous, tastiest (mmmm... Rhino steaks) and thus, the weaker are left to propagate. Things don't grow as big, as strong, as fast, as tasty (a gas station rib sandwich compared to the McReal thing {side note, I'm soooo getting sued over that}).

And this Finlay brings me to my ambiguous and impossible to prove Hypothesis: Hundreds of years of taking the best and biggest X-mas trees have caused the weaker, more lopsided, patchy, not as tasty, fugly trees to flourish. Perhaps its the pain of hearing their brethren being chopped down has twisted them into anguished rooted monuments. As to if Trees feel pain/Scream, according to my half-ass ed search of the Internet; The Jury is still out on this one. Or maybe its a simple matter of knowing that the more symmetrical, full, and healthy you look, the greater the chance you'll be chopped down.

Or maybe as you (we're talking about people this time) age, you loose your zest for that ideal X-mas. The fake snow coated windows, cheaply made big wheel, the fake TV fireplace. You start seeing frivolity in camp-mas. Getting that Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock and a thing which tells time, becomes less of an obsession, then a want, then something that you just can't "use" anymore. Having the perfect tree is no longer as important as having people to share it with. And you start to realize, these ugly looking trees, Charlie-Brown-esq. in their appearance maybe, just need a little love. That love gets shared with others, and low and behold, the reverse natural selection of the X-mas tree may not be such a bad thing after all, if it drives us to "Honour Christmas in [our] hearts, and try to keep it all year." -Dickens "A Christmas Carol"

A merry x-mas to all, and to all... Give me my frigg'n bb gun!