Stand Up Guy

Since we’ve got comedians writing essays in this issue, I think it’s only appropriate that I deliver a stand-up routine. Of course, this is going to require some imagination on your part, but here’s what I’d talk about if I were on stage at the Comedy Connection at Pathetic Amateur Night.

Good evening. You know what I hate about being a straight white male of average weight? I hate that that gives me nothing to talk about. Yeah, all you straight white guys of average weight know where I’m coming from with that, right? You go into a store and buy a pack of gum, and the cashier’s like, “Here’s your change. Have a nice day.” See what I mean?

So let’s talk about paper towels. I love them. You can use paper towels in place of the Kleenex, napkin and mop. Out of coffee filters? The paper towel will be glad to pinch hit. Out of toilet paper? Don’t tell me you’ve never climbed into the slightly abrasive yet surprisingly effective arms of the paper towel in that situation. Paper towels might just be the most versatile weapon in the disposable countertop cleaning-implement arsenal. Ironically, the only thing you can’t use paper towels for is toweling. Do fat Russian men sit in saunas wrapped in Bounty? No. The towels would get soggy and fall apart. Would you take a roll of Brawny to the beach and try to lie on it? No. The towels aren’t wide enough, and as soon as you moved they’d blow away. And have you ever tried to stitch a monogram into a paper towel? Then you’re a pretentious bastard.

So the towel itself is safe, but I don’t know why paper towels haven’t driven the sponge out of business—there must be a diehard sect of sponge-users who refuse to acknowledge the superiority of the paper towel, so they keep wiping their counters with a product inspired by marine life. We stopped burning whale oil for light, yet we clean our dishes with sponges? Why not make rope out of tied-together eels? Or shoes out of lobsters? That would make as much sense as sponges. You know why SpongeBob Squarepants looks the way he does, all wild-eyed, only two teeth? Because he caught syphilis from himself. Sponges are dirty.

You’re always happy to find paper towels in a rest-stop bathroom. You might give the hand-dryer a try, thinking that maybe this is the time you’ll have enough patience to stand there for three hours while the 82-year-old man connected to a vent hose behind the wall attempts to dry your hands with his feeble dying exhalations, but then you give up after two seconds when you realize there’s still soap residue on your hands and you’ll never be able to get it off with the rest-stop faucet—the Chinese get all the credit for water torture, but it actually originated at the Mass Pike Framingham McDonald’s. Meanwhile, the hand dryer is trying to convince you how awesome it is with the notice on the top: “Hand dryers are more sanitary than paper towels. They save forests and reduce garbage. A roll of paper towels is hitting on your girlfriend right now. Paper towels are illegal in 17 states. Paper towels are made out of baby dolphins…by Al Qaeda.” But if there’s a paper towel dispenser, you know what it says about hand dryers on that? Nothing. The confident paper towel doesn’t have to denigrate its competition like the insecure hand dryer.

The most ludicrous function of the hand dryer is the swiveling nozzle. Mmmm... hot rest-stop bathroom air on my face. It’s like a warm sirocco wafting across the Sahara. If you’re washing your head or torso at a rest stop, you’ve probably got issues beyond proper drying—like where to bury the body, or whether hitching the ride from Worcester to Framingham with Bobby-Jim the trucker was really worth it.

Paper towels don’t even need cute mascots to sell them. Brawny has a lumberjack. Why? Possibly because the lumberjack cuts down the trees to make the paper towel, but that’s like putting a picture of a bloody butcher on a package of hamburger. Maybe there’s supposed to be an association with the paper towel’s qualities, the way toilet paper advertises its softness with a picture of a puppy or a baby. But most lumberjacks I know aren’t very absorbent and will stubbornly resist being used to wipe up coffee. Maybe Brawny should think about changing its logo to something more appropriate. Like a sponge.