It’s a potentially historic crisis that could redefine American political life for the next several decades.
I’m speaking of course of the state of towels.
For hundreds of years mankind suffered with wimpy towels that barely wrapped around one’s waist. Thankfully, as waists expanded, so have towels. Towels have grown to accommodate today’s fatter America, and that’s a good thing.
Towels started out the being the size of playing cards in the middle ages. Since no one took baths, it wasn’t a big deal.
According to the Internet, since about 1976 most people started washing themselves, many of them every day.
As a result, towel researchers — using approximately $1 trillion of your tax dollars —have discovered three elements for making a successful towel —
• Size, because as it turns out no one except certain supermodels can get dry with something the size of a postage stamp. For the rest of us, we need some serious towel acreage to get the job done.
• Softness, which was discovered after several experiments where orphans were given towels made out of steel wool, sandpaper and Donald Trump’s tweets. Scientists discovered abrasives couldn’t effectively dry human skin.
• Absorbance, which is a no-brainer; the intrepid towel scientists didn’t even bother to experiment on orphans to back up their conclusion that a towel that doesn’t absorb water is like a bladeless knife, a dead cat or a PT Cruiser — completely useless.
As a result of all this research through the years, towels have become like value meals — the bigger the better.
We recently purchased some towels which carried the promise of being the ultimate in the body drying experience.
To start off, these towels are huge — like big enough to cover a Volkswagen bus huge. I can wrap these new towels around myself like three times.
It’s so much towel; I could almost feel comfortable going to the grocery store wearing nothing but the towel.
Also, they’re so soft. It’s like draping yourself in a warm cloud of fluffiness.
Obviously there is something wrong with these towels, otherwise why would I be wasting your time with this?
“What’s the problem?”
Shut up and I’ll tell you.
While these Texas-sized pieces of terrycloth heaven fulfill two out of the three requirements for a towel, the third one is lacking.
It’s like they’ve been coated in some type of waterproof lacquer. As big and soft as they are, they’re less effective at their primary job than if I were to just stand on the front porch and drip-dry.
All right, I admit I don’t have the scientific knowledge to back that claim up. I actually haven’t drip-dried on the front porch in quite a while, so I really don’t have the right metric to compare the two for sure. Apparently community standards are against that type of thing … even in the interest of science.
What I do know for sure is that these towels don’t work. We’ve washed them, dried them, had them blessed by a shaman, but they still don’t absorb water.
The worst thing is, you can’t take them back to the store without looking like an idiot.
“Why are you returning these used towels?” asks the store clerk, who was supposed to break for lunch 45 minutes ago, but some guy named Randy hasn’t shown up yet.
“They’re defective, they don’t dry stuff.”
“What type of stuff?”
“My, uh, you know, stuff.”
“Is this some type of YouTube prank?”
If all new towels are like this, people everywhere are going to be driving to work with their underwear sticking in unintended ways, which will understandably result in them being grumpy.
It explains a lot. I bet everyone in Congress has new towels.
Follow David Anderson on
Twitter at twitter.com/cruizerdave