My father had one of those miniature farms, he worked very hard to maintain it (and conscripted me into assisting). Every week he would ritually harvest a usele

My father had one of those miniature farms, he worked very hard to maintain it (and conscripted me into assisting). Every week he would ritually harvest a useless crop which went directly into the garbage. He was a very proud man, and used the condition of his lawn to signal his moral superiority. Often in the evenings around the dinner table he would single out malingerers in the neighbourhood and proclaim them to be substandard human beings. These proclamations weren't typically backed up by action until he was appointed an administrator on the condominium board. Newly backed with institutional authority, he took to logging lawn care infractions, and hand delivering customized warning notices to scofflaws with great zeal.