Hey kids. You've probably seen this scene in TV or movies at some point.

A couple of people end up stranded on a desert island, totally isolated from all civilization.

It seems like there's no hope for survival.

But then one of them looks three feet to the left and:

Oh my god, it's a tree full of fully-grown, plump, delicious-smelling, golden-skin bananas. Amazing.

We're saved for the time being.

Hey, don't eat those.

They're made of lies.

See?

Listen, why do fruit exists?

For a delicious, nutritious snack for humans and animals alike to enjoy?

You know you didn't have to go throwing him into the sun like that.

You're next, Susan.

How did you know my name?

I created you.

Anyway, as most of you probably know, fruit are a thing because nature figured out: hey,

if you put a little bit of deliciousness around your seed, it'll convince some idiot bird or something to carry your baby off to faraway lands, right?

But then humans showed up and we're like: hey, that's pretty nifty.

Listen, is it cool if we selectively breed you for thousands of years to give you horrific deformities to crank up that whole deliciousness part a couple hundred notches?

All right, cool.

Let's take a look at bananas, specifically the Cavendish variety that we all know and love.

On the inside we got like 2% seeds, 93% delectable banana meat, and 5% that brown part at the bottom that your mom says is perfectly fine to eat but you still don't trust.

Great for a snack, terrible for reproducing efficiently.

Meanwhile, check out the thing on the right here.

That's Musa Acuminata, one of the suspected ancestors of today's nanners.

Much smaller and jam-packed with seeds, with just enough flesh in there to make it worth some smelly primates' time to crack open a yellow one with the boys.

Here's another wild-type banana: Musa Balbisiana.

Less sweet, way starchier, harder to get into, hella seeds -- same shit different day really.

Today if you stick that boy in the ground, you've got an okay chance of making a new banana tree.

You bury a modern banana, all you're gonna end up with is a dirty banana.

And not that one club in Miami, I mean an actual dirty banana.

That's because like a lot of cultivated fruit, culinary bananas are so inbred and malformed that they can't produce offspring even if they wanted to.

So word of advice for you men out there: if ever a lady points out how poorly endowed you are, just show her this JPEG.

She'll say: Wow, I didn't realize it was so potent and fertile.

You really opened my eyes, thank you.

Bananas aren't the only piece of produce to follow this pattern, though. Not by a longshot.

For example, take the watermelon.

According to Monsanto, everybody's favorite corporation,

the first evidence of human cultivation of the watermelon dates back to Egypt around 5,000 years ago.

Back then they were only 2 inches in diameter, around the size of a tennis ball.

The flesh was supposedly tough and bitter, much like that of a tennis ball.

Of course just as the growth of a delicious green baby takes time, so too did the evolution of the modern watermelon.

In fact, even as late as the mid-1600s, watermelons looked way different for what we have today,

as shown by this painting by Giovanni Stanchi.

Notice the thicker rind, the larger seeds in the weird segmentation on the inside.

Definitely a cooler still-life subject, but ultimately inferior as a summertime snack.

How about vegetables?

Tell me, do you enjoy cabbage, brussel sprouts, kale, collard greens, broccoli, or cauliflower?

I mean I guess I like broccoli and cauliflower, or the rest are kind of gross... Wrong！

All six of these vegetables are actually the same thing.

That means you like them all.

That's not how that works.

I'll be good.

Anyway, these veggies are all just cultivars of the same species: Brassica oleracea, otherwise known as wild cabbage.

Every part of the plant is edible to some extent, but there's not much of it to go around.

So a bunch of different people throughout history said:

All right, what if we just take one specific part of the plant and go f* insane with it?

And that's what they did.

Those who bred four giant leaves got kale.

Going for huge, dense flower buds gets you broccoli.

Juicy and gorge lateral leaf buds equal Brussels sprouts, etc.

Speaking of segues, let's check out eggplants.

The OG eggplant was first domesticated in India, where it can still be found in the wild today.

It looks nothing like an eggplant, though; they actually resemble little green berries the size of grapes.

The only thing it seems to have in common with the classic purple eggplant is how little both of them have in common with an egg.

However, if we add the RGB percentage values of their color and merge their shapes, we do get what looks approximately like an egg.

So I guess that solves that mystery.

This whole transformation really is a testament to man's greatness, though.

That's like starting out with a frog and selectively breeding them until you end up with Grimace from McDonald's lore.

Speaking of which, did you know Grimace used to be evil and have four arms? This is a real thing.

I'd like to think that. When they lapped off his extra limbs, all his evil energy went with them.

And now there's just two plum purple cylinders scampering around the countryside, waiting to pull unsuspecting kids under ball pits, never to be seen again.

That's just my McDonald's headcannon, though.

Anyway, back to whatever we were talking about.

Next is corn. Or, sorry, maize.

I call it corn like a normal person.

If it was supposed to be called maize, these would be called maize mazes.

Obviously that's like the perfect opportunity, but they're not.

So putting the etymological sock in it, or stocking.

Anyway, I was totally expecting old corn to look like those baby corns you find in Chinese food and literally nowhere else.

Turns out those actually are just baby corns.

One suspected ancestor of corn is known as Teosinte, which looks like this.

Gee whiz, Sam, that sure does look like garbage.

Good eye, Billy, that's because it was garbage.

Whereas modern corn has a kernel count in the hundreds, Teosinte only has 5 to 12,

with each one being encased in a hard shell that's basically impossible to get into, short of boiling it or chipping a tooth.

The fact that people decided to domesticate it in the first place makes sense once you realize that most grains are basically the same thing.

But honestly, that just makes me wish people figured out how to turn a piece of wheat into a big chunk of whatever to gnaw on.

This whole thing disappointed me so much that I actually moved it to the top of my list of reasons not to visit the Mayans if I ever get a time machine.