Showing posts with label Charmin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charmin. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Our toilet paper is getting smaller -- still costs same


A friend of mine back in January linked me a story about how toilet paper is getting smaller. I think he did this in the hopes I’d write a story about it.
I did not.
I hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t a national crisis and I’m sure I was writing near daily about Deflategate, certain the issue would shed its essential timeliness prior to kickoff for Super Bowl XLIX.
And, I thought, who gives a crap?
Eight months later, I realize I’d missed an opportunity.
Toilet paper is getting smaller.
That’s key because, in fact, everyone gives a crap, especially those of us who eat fiber-rich diets.
Standard perforated toilet paper — WWII soldiers called them “shit tickets” — were for centuries precisely 4.5 inches by 4.5 inches.
Today, industry standards are reducing the length to 4 inches long, roughly 26 percent less.
It changes the geometric perfection and renders meaningless the “Seinfeld” catchphrase about not having a square to spare. They’re no longer square. They’re rectangular.
Or maybe we should say rectumtangular.
And while the surface areas are decreasing, the circumference size of the centering cardboard roll is increasing.
The reason I notice this is because I adhere to “Use All The Crayons!” colorful living tip no. 19:
Whenever you finish a roll of toilet paper, blow through the cardboard like it’s a trumpet. The announcement will let everyone know it’s time to shop for more TP.”

I without fail do this at the end of every roll. The tune is usually something regal sounding, appropriate, I think, for a man performing from atop a throne.
But lately the sound has been deeper, more resonant. I find myself unconsciously lapsing into the iconic French horn intro from “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” which confuses the family.
So instead of a fresh roll, Val asks through the privacy door if I’m feeling constipated.
It’s very cunning of our nation’s TP producers. They’re getting away with charging the same high prices for far less product.
Yes, for years we’ve been warned not to squeeze the Charmin.
Now, the Charmin is squeezing us.
But what are we going to do?
The necessity constructed to tidy up the opposite end of the taint has us all by the proverbial balls. Wikipedia says proper humans have been using toilet paper about a thousand years longer than we’ve been using proper toilets.
In fact, the first documented evidence of toilet paper is from Chinese scholar named Yan Zhitui (531-591 AD).
And for the handy purposes of today’s story let’s just go ahead and assume his last name is pronounced “SHIT-you.”
He wrote, “Paper on which there are quotations or commentaries from the Five Classics or the names of sages, I dare not use for toilet purposes.”
They might be using pages from best sellers for toilet paper in Venezuela, now in its second year of a critical toilet paper shortage.
Harry Potter meet Hairy Potty!
It was so bad in 2013, the Socialist government seized control of the nation’s largest toilet paper manufacturer with intentions to increase production.
It failed in Venezuela and the shortage endures.
Lesson: A toilet paper shortage crisis can’t be dealt with in ways that could be deemed half-assed.
It’s not a crisis in America. It’s just another of the daily growing annoyances of how some in corporate America are always meddling with the status quo to screw us out of another buck or two.
The whole thing reminds me of another hole thing that has me recollecting an interview with a hot sauce manufacturer who impressed competitors by reporting a 25 percent increase in profit in just one year.
How’d he do it? Better marketing? Zippier recipe? Increased social media exposure?
Nope.
“We just made the hole bigger.”
I hope the smaller TP trend doesn’t continue.
In America today, perhaps now more than ever, we need lots and lots of toilet paper.
Donald Trump, Kanye, Roger Goodell, Scientologists …
Go ahead and start your own list.
Our toilet paper is getting smaller, but our assholes keep getting bigger.

Related . . .





Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Poo Pooing too much TP

I always feel as conspicuous buying toilet paper as I do buying porn.


I feel shame. I don’t want people to see me. I think people will think less of me for knowing I use the stuff.


This makes zero sense because I have no such prim inhibitions about people watching me eat.


And if I’m going to do one, I’m going to do the other. Rather, if I’m going to do one, I’m going to do No. 2.


I bring all this up because I just spent what I guess we can go ahead and call -- forgive the inevitable vulgarity -- a shitload of money on a mattress-sized raft of industrial strength toilet paper.


It’s was $12.78 for the Charmin Ultra Strength MegaRoll 9-pack. That’s 352 2-ply sheets per roll or 375.7 square feet of TP.


The package specs makes it seem sturdy and voluminous enough to construct a big top circus tent. It makes flushable toilet paper sound more durable than steel wool.


Coincidence alert! I’m writing about TP while I’m listening to TP. By perhaps subliminal determination I included the 1981 Tom Petty album, “Hard Promises” in a playlist that includes Dire Straits’ “Making Movies,” and Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Sorry you can’t be here. I’m having fun.


It would have been freaky if I’d have selected an album by the old punk band, the Butt Hole Surfers. They were, ahem, a cheeky bunch.


Anyway, I get home -- thought I’d have to bungie strap the purchase to the roof of my Saturn -- and discover Val had bought the same thing. Twice!


She’s a coupon clipper and found a great deal on toilet paper.


And now we may be the first family who has toilet paper both out and up the ol’ wazoo.


The surfeit of toilet paper has me thinking of despotic North Korean ruler Kim Jung Il. Or should that be des-potty-ic?


Official North Korean history books declare his body so evolved it produces neither urine nor feces.


That’s certainly a pity. You’d think the sprinkled tinkle from a body so divine would be nourishing enough to feed the millions who’ve starved to death under his tyrannical rule.


It may be the lone evidence of humanitarian concern from him that all his palaces include dozens of toilets. How thoughtful.


He’s not at all like my mother. Because I’m obliged to shop for her and attend doctor visits, I’ve become grimly familiar with the natural bodily functions of this woman I always considered too pure to have even engaged in sex.


Well, maybe once or twice.


It might be entertaining to post a YouTube video of someone like me sitting there wincing every time the doctor casually asks his 78-year-old mother, “So, Rachel, how are your bowels these days?”


Her big thing is Kleenex. She can’t get enough of it.


I go to the store about once a week for her and she always insists I bring home three new jumbo boxes of Kleenex. She lives all alone, has only one nose, and there’s no evidence she’s decorating a parade float.


I once gently asked, Mom, are you sure you need three?


The impudence nearly made her head explode, which I guess would have required a cleanup involving nearly 300 boxes.


I lavish her with rolls of toilet paper and she’s unmoved by the gesture.


I try and be the good son. I try and not get upset with her.


It’s not easy, as many of you sadly sympathize.


I know I’ll again run out of patience and will again feel sad at my human shortcomings.


I wish I could convert all this toilet paper into patience. Then I’d be on a real roll.