Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and
   robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

   Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together
   until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately.
   The winner gets to go another round.

   I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are
   genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the
   intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

   Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest.
   Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra
   strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

   When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it
   would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M
   Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card
   reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

   This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain
   M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament.
   From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

   There can be only one.