In modern Manworld there are few things that demonstrates a man’s superiority over the rest of the pack like a perfectly manicured lawn. It not only exhibits his control over Mother Nature but in suburbia a verdant weed-free mixture of bluegrass, rye and red fescue cut to two and three-quarter inches is the modern day version of having the largest tusks around, the widest set of antlers or perhaps the biggest set of…well, you get the point. Sad but true, man has digressed to this point but we have and we must make do with the current set of natural laws. I suppose this is better than squaring off on the village green and shooting each other from twenty paces or clubbing each other senseless for no other reason than to establish who is the top dog. Today that can be determined just by having the thickest, greenest most perfectly manicured lawn around.

I know, most of you are thinking that this is absurd but it’s true. Just observe any alpha male as he mows the lawn. Notice the way he calculates the angle of the cut much in the same manner that Tiger Woods lines up a fifty-foot putt. Or better yet after he has mowed the lawn. Picture Superman standing atop the Daly Planet Building, his cape flapping in the breeze with his hands on his hips as he surveys Metropolis watching for any sign of trouble and taking pride that there is none all because of him.

On the contrary, look at the poor sap that stands with one hand on hip, backwards of course, the other grubby paw wiping sweat from his brow with an oily red handkerchief as he looks across the street with envy at the superior male’s perfect lawn. He’d like to go over and ask his manlier neighbor how he does it but he can’t; he might as well lie on his back and expose his throat to show everyone what a schlemiel he is. What would the sap’s wife think? I know what she’d think; why did I marry this bozo and not the guy across the street?

Trust me, I see how the neighborhood women look at me after I’ve finished mowing the lawn. I like to think it’s because I am so handsome standing there amidst the turf in my cutoff sweat pants and threadbare gray tee shirt that once advertised a popular eatery that specialized in chicken wings and waitresses with big breasts but I know better—women just love a big beautiful lawn. A well-manicured lawn is a chick magnet.