Toilet Paper as Societal Barometer
What remains on the shelf tells us a lot about America
Like most of the country, I went to the grocery store this week to stock up on non-perishables for our pantry and freezer. Given warnings in the news and on Facebook, the fully-depleted shelves of toilet paper came as no surprise
Yet while our friends and the media may want us to see the TP deficit as a harbinger of societal collapse, other shelves in the store contained a plethora of convenient and comfortable toilet paper substitutes.
The situation got me thinking. I concluded that we should measure the extent of our societal collapse not by the media’s hysteria, but by the lengths to which we’ll go to clean our backsides. And the wide availability of rear-cleansing alternatives tells me that — so far, anyway — we are merely playing at pandemic.
Until we are willing to endure the slightest bit of discomfort or exercise an iota of ingenuity to wipe our butts, we remain a very safe distance from a true crisis.
“…the wide availability of rear-cleansing alternatives tells me that — so far, anyway — we are merely playing at pandemic.”
So before you waste any more mental energy worrying about the lack of tissue, please consider where we are on my TP Defcon Scale. Modeled after the Pentagon’s five-tiered defense readiness condition system, TPDS will give you plenty of warning before the sh*t actually hits the fan.
TP DEFCON 1: This Ain’t No Crisis (Kleenex / Moist wipes)
Here’s where we are as a culture: shoppers brawl over toilet paper on aisle 4, while fifteen feet away, dozens of boxes of downy soft Kleenex sit patiently, waiting to be taken home. Clearly, we are a lazy, unimaginative people prone more to outrage than to adaptation.
Raise your hand if you’ve ever wiped with a Kleenex. (Please note: you’re raising your hand.) Did it feel as if the world was ending? Of course not. Maybe you double or triple-folded, but you didn’t give it a second thought.
And Kleenex’s (Kleenexes?) were just the beginning.
My local Kroger also had in full supply the moistened, flushable butt wipes preferred by some children and those who equate corporeal cleanliness with godliness (i.e., me). If you’ve never tried these, I beg you to treat yourself. Follow a Kleenex with one of these delightful towelettes for a five-star, pre-dystopian, tush-cleaning experience your grandparents could have only dreamed about.
It’s not just effective — it’s downright refreshing. You know how your teeth feel when you leave the dentist? Well, I think I’ll just leave it there.
TP DEFCON 2: No big Deal. (Napkins, regular and cocktail variety)
If people are hoarding toilet paper but haven’t even thought to buy table napkins instead, nothing material in our world has changed. TV prognosticators scream “HURRICANE!!!” when, at worst, it’s “partly cloudy.”
At my store, tens of thousands of perfectly adequate table napkins lingered unacknowledged. This is the same product that 90% of fraternity houses use as their preferred TP 50 weeks per year (with exceptions made for homecoming and parents weekend). So it was fine when you were an undergrad, but now using them constitutes nuclear winter? Come on.
Let’s say you can’t find any of these table napkins and you have to go to TP Defcon 2b. Still not a problem, as the typical suburban home contains weeks’ worth of back-up TP in the form of random birthday, seasonal and cocktail napkins featuring boozy witticisms like:
“Rosé all day?”
“It’s 5:00 somewhere!”
“Between us, Mommy’s half buzzed.”
They’re not Charmin-soft, but think of how kitschy it will be to swab your caboose with a napkin embossed with a subtle wink to entry-level alcoholism. Hilarious, right!?!
DEFCON 2c: Don’t forget those cutlery packets you get from restaurants when you order takeout or delivery. You likely have dozens of these environmental nightmares loitering pointlessly in some kitchen drawer or cabinet. What do you see co-habitating with that plastic sporks and the salt/pepper? Toilet paper!
TP DEFCON 3: Going south ( Coffee filters / Dryer Sheets)
I’m not saying the Corona Virus vacation couldn’t get scary. It sure could. But we’re not even close to the precipice until you find yourself looking at a Mr. Coffee coffee filter and thinking, “That would get the job done.”
The process wouldn’t kill you, but it’s a sure sign the waters have gotten choppy.
Dryer sheets are another practical if unappealing option. The first time will be scary because you won’t know if the fabric softener will cause a rash. But if you can get away with it, there are worse things than a behind that smells like tulips until the CDC gives the all-clear.
TP DEFCON 4: Getting bad. (lunch bags / doilies)
Now it’s getting real. Previous generations have endured far worse in the form of depressions, plagues, and global wars, but if dredging your netherworld with a brown paper bag is your least-bad option, life’s heading in the wrong direction.
Alternatives to this unforgiving sandwich transporter include items previously considered sacred, or at least non-disposable. So as you stare into the face of both apocalypse and once-in-a-lifetime hemorrhoids, you realize you have no higher use for those linen napkins or Grandma’s antique lace doilies. Sure, you’ll be sullying an heirloom, but you haven’t used them since she died anyway.
TP DEFCON 5: Run for the hills! (US Currency / Stock Certificates)
Board up your home and head for the mountains, because once you consider using financial assets for personal hygiene, winter is no longer “coming” — it has arrived.
Don’t freak out too early, however. While corporate equities hold 30% less value than they did a couple of weeks ago, there is a long way to go before they’re worthless.
With regard to currency — they say money is just a concept based on trust, and once that trust is gone, cash is worth no more than the paper it’s printed on. But at least you have the option to use it as paper!
And here, my friends, is where traditional currency demonstrates its clear superiority over crypto. Because when Bitcoin goes to zero, you can’t even use it to wipe your ass.
Stay strong, friends!
