“Tissues, toilet paper, and other disposable products are responsible for unspeakable destruction of ancient forests around the world,” decries a blog on Greenpeace.org. And since the blog is speaking about the destruction, I guess it’s not so unspeakable anymore, hmm?
But wait, there’s more! The blog continues: “Hopefully some day carrying a box of Kleenex or Cottonelle to the check-out counter will be considered as ridiculous as driving around town in a Hummer.”
I think the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King said the exact same thing in his “I have a dream” speech. Or maybe it was Mr. Whipple from the old “Don’t Squeeze the Charmin” commercials. Who can remember?
Greenpeace.org has even created a guide about the terrible trouble with TP (which I barely glanced at, but still found surprisingly absorbent).
The guide ranks several brands by recyclability. And wouldn’t you know it, the most earth-friendly brand of toilet paper is something called Green Forest. (Knowing Greenpeace, they may actually want you to wipe with a tree leaf.)
I didn’t recognize most of the Greenpeace-endorsed toilet papers: April Soft, Fiesta Green, Seventh Generation, 365 and, my favorite, Natural Value, because nothing says “quilted” like a name that ends with “value.”
Trader Joe’s also made the TP “good” list, but its toilet paper is listed as 100-percent recyclable, which makes me think it’s about as soft as the Trader Joe’s pita chips.
You backpacking earthy types are a little on the flaky side to begin with, and now is probably not the best time to be going around with your Birkenstocks, hemp jewelry and Phish t-shirts poking the rest of us in the chest.
For one thing, we’re probably a lot stronger than you are because we eat actual red meat instead of that tofu mush that makes your breath smell like boiled feet. And most of us know how to throw a punch from playing actual sports instead of Hacky Sack and Ultimate Frisbee.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Greenpeace, but the world’s outlook is about as bright as that dark brown crud at the bottom of your leaf mulcher. Guys like me are just praying that we can hold onto our jobs long enough to afford the small luxury of “destroying” the planet with a little more two-ply.
Why don’t you go ask some inner-city kid from a broken home what he thinks about America’s toilet paper “problem.” And if he doesn’t have an opinion, I’m sure I can find someone who was just laid off from an auto plant, mortgage company or newspaper who will oblige.
Too much toilet paper? Too much toilet paper? Exactly how many magic mushrooms have you had, Greenpeace?
The only climate you should be worried about right now is the economic one. Or haven’t you noticed that not even Woodsy Owl can afford to give a hoot?
Don’t you understand that those 5 to 55 minutes in the bathroom (hey I don’t always eat enough fiber) are our only oasis from a reality that’s colder than a winter toilet seat?
I would wipe my rear end with every last endangered snow owl from here to the Galapagos Islands if it would turn our economy around.
And I would put a full-nelson hold on every last bonytailed bandicoot if it would re-inflate my 401K. Aw heck, I’d probably do it even if it didn’t restore my 401K, because those bonytailed bandicoots need to be taken down a notch.
Here’s the bottom line, Greenpeace (because we know how obsessed you are with bottoms): Whenever somebody from your misguided organization talks about “saving the earth” what they really mean is “saving ourselves,” because the earth is going to be just fine, with or without humans on it. Go ask the dinosaurs how they feel about global warming. Oh that’s right, they all died during the Ice Age!
Our concern for toilet paper and what it’s doing to the environment ranks right between ring around the collar and people who run with scissors.
So I think I speak for everyone, Greenpeace, when I say: Literally get off of our asses!
(And our toilet paper isn’t the only thing that’s full of it.)