Three Sheets To The Windbags

The whole world seems to be going toilet paper crazy these days. It seems that the elite among us feel that the answer to most of our planetary woes lies in the rationing of this precious commodity (Or should I say commode-ity). From singer Sheryl Crowe suggesting a limit of one piece of paper per latrine layover, to the installation of automatic dispensers that fork over a mere five sheets at the wave of a hand, our omniscient self-appointed leaders have decided that an average of three squares should do the trick.

At least Crowe’s system still allows you to use the puffy papyrus.  Perhaps the lyrics to her song ‘All I wanna do is have some fun’ should be changed to, “All I want to do is wipe my bun, I’ve got a feeling that I’ll need more than one.” Still, that’s better than the New York family that has given it up altogether, and has opted to use… well nothing instead. Coincidentally, dinner party attendance at their Brownstone has dropped dramatically. Too bad. They were known for their hand tossed pizza. Now, every R.S.V.P. is returned A.S.A.P. with a cease and desist order. They’ve amassed so many of these citations that they could string them together around a cardboard tube and use them for… you guessed it, toilet paper. On the ‘hole’, they’ve achieved nothing.

I have no idea how toilet paper has become the Hitler of hygiene products. Detergents used to be evil because of their harmful byproducts. I can deal with that. No one wants poison dumped into their water supply. Make-up that was tested on animals was the cause célèbre for a while. That practice has mostly ended, and with it, the casual sex that had become so prevalent among our four legged friends. It turns out that you can put lipstick on a pig. In fact, it was the one thing that gave the less attractive animals a shot at some action. These days, they use humans to test pet shampoo and no one complains.

Now it’s toilet papers turn. No longer will Mr. Whipple implore his customers not to squeeze the Charmin. He’ll have to stand guard over the end cap display lest the poopy police try to seize his Charmin. They will ration the Kleenex and make you use latex. Gloves that is. At the grocery checkout, you will be looked down upon for taking paper products home in a plastic bag, and praised for putting plastic goods into a paper bag. Those who use canvas for both functions will be viewed as a god. The same way that smokers were demonized and relegated to puffing away in remote corners of parking garages, anyone who leaves the grocery store with more than a four pack of toilet paper will be glared at. And it better not be two ply! Don’t even think of showing up in an SUV.

You may wonder why I am so passionate about toilet paper. It’s true I am a casual user myself, nights and weekends typically, and never when driving. My reasons are altruistic. Ask not for whom the Cottonelle rolls, it rolls for thee. That’s right, I do it for you and everyone else. Mostly for those closest to me. I know they cannot survive without a pallet load of Scott tissue. I am surrounded by TP junkies and if the poo-litically correct have their way, our ability to use it will be sharply curtailed and mayhem will break out in our once peaceful home. The ‘S’ will hit the fan so to speak, or any other appliance that can be used in lieu of paper in the loo.

Perhaps an example will help. Recently, my girlfriends sister came for a 4 day visit. In that period of time six rolls of toilet paper mysteriously vanished. At 350 sheets per roll, that’s 2100 squares of paper, or 525 a day. I hold the sister responsible for seventy percent of that. Never the less, we were a bit over the three sheet quota. About twenty thousand percent over. Under the system proposed by these windbags, we’d be committing multiple felonies. There’s no way we can get our usage to a level they’d find acceptable. Those who say that taking baby steps will save the planet are only correct if by baby steps, they mean wearing a diaper.

The same arrogant elitists that insist that the government stay out of our bedrooms, seem more than eager to get the government into our bathrooms. Maybe I should move the commode next to the night stand.

Before long, a toilet paper tax will be created, fines for over usage will  be enacted and public toilets will be allowed to dispense just a few sheets. Wait! That is already happening with the new gadget that senses your hand in front of its electronic eye. That’s one more motion sensor to deal with. I currently wave my hand in front of the flush handle, the soap dispenser, the faucet, the towel machine, the air dryer and the guy in the corner selling cheap cologne. Going to the bathroom is like being on the lead float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade. Wave, smile, wave, smile.

We won’t save the planet this way, not even if Sheryl Crowe removes every roll of toilet paper from all of her tour busses and private jets. I’ll bet she makes my girlfriends sister look like a toilet paper miser. The only thing that will be accomplished is that people feel guilty for going to the bathroom. That same loser feeling you get when you toss an aluminum can into the regular garbage or disconnect the pathetic water saver shower head that trickles more slowly than an old man with an enlarged prostrate.

So I propose we do nothing. I am happy with the status quo and the fresh twelve pack of two ply quilted Northern I just brought home. God willing, it will last more than a week. With the sister gone, we just may make it.

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