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"Survival of the Fittest" -Author Dennis Miller
July 30, 1999

Anybody who thinks the basic, visceral, territorial instinct to survive through physical aggression died with our knuckle-dragging ancestors hasn't foraged for a Furby in a Toys R Us the day before Christmas. 
In purely biological terms, those who survive get to pass on their superior genes to the next generation. Michael lives, Fredo dies. Bill Clinton exposes himself to low-level civil servants, gropes volunteers in the Oval Office, gives skin flute lessons to chunky interns, and skates away like Brian Boitano with a Dexatrim shunt strapped to the inside of his unitard. Al Gore goes to 'Nam, champions the environment, comes home to the same woman for the last 25 or so years, and he's in deeper shit than a midget cleaning a port-o-potty at a bran muffin factory in Mexico. 

And even though we're not dwelling in caves anymore, relying on brute strength and hunting skills to keep us fed, survival of the fittest is still alive and well. It's merely adapted itself in order to...uhh...to survive. Where once, the hulking no-necks of the tribe were the ones who flourished, they've been replaced by the uberdweebs--guys like Bill Gates. Hey, face it, if Gates had been around in the stone age, I guarantee you, he would've spent all his time plucking loincloth wedgies out of his scrawny white buttcrack. 

And remember, when we talk about the survival of the fittest, it's all about context. Sure, the lion is the undisputed king of the jungle, but airdrop him into Antarctica, and he's just a penguin's bitch. 

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