"Let me tell you about courtesy," I said, "When the Spanish priests came to California, they sprinkled mustard plants where they rode, and so the people who came after them followed the trail of bright yellow flowers."
"That doesn't strike me as very courteous," said the goldfish.
And I smiled in agreement, and said, "Oh, I agree. But perhaps you may consider the question of desire paths - the little guerilla trails people make in the grass when it's faster to cut across, where everyone rejects the jagged structured path of pavement. It's a mass-level but tiny unconscious rebellion of expedience over aesthetics, for better or worse."
The goldfish quirked an eyebrow at me, which is something to see.
So, at this point, I'm out of irrelevent stories. How do you talk to your goldfish about courtesy?