While I was sitting down the other day for a nice long think, I noticed something ironic. Well, at least I think it was ironic. I’m never really sure when something is ironic or not. I used to have a reliable way to tell, but I’m pretty sure Alanis Morissette is getting tired of me calling her at home every single time I don’t know whether or not something is ironic. Sorry Alanis.

Anyway, the thing I noticed was a jumbo pack of toilet paper. I like to buy the biggest pack of toilet paper they have at whatever store I’m at, so while I’m leaving, I can look around and give people the old, “Yeah that’s right, I’ve got a lot of wiping to do,” look.
On this particular jumbo pack of toilet paper (which I store beside my thinking chair), there are little cartoon pillows smiling and giggling playfully. This didn’t really faze me at first; I always sort of assumed that smiling and giggling playfully is just what cartoon pillows do. Then I started thinking about their job however, and I really began to wonder how they could possibly be smiling. If I knew, for instance, that at any moment some asshole would smear shit all over my face, I think I would choose a slightly different expression; like maybe bitter contempt, or at the very least terrified confusion.

“ I always sort of assumed that smiling and giggling playfully is just what cartoon pillows do.

Then I got to thinking: the only possible reason that these adorable little pillows would be smiling in the face of such adversity is that they are completely oblivious to their lot in life. They must exist in a happy little dream world, without hunger or war and where no one ever gets shit smeared on his or her face. They’ve probably never even heard of shit for that matter (as scientists have shown, most anthropomorphic cartoon characters do not have digestive systems.) What a horrible surprise we’ve been forcing on these poor pillow people, right before we send them off to the great beyond.

Well maybe it’s time we put this heinous practice to a stop. Maybe all the pillow people need is someone to stand up for them, and to show them the terrible truth. Maybe all they need is someone to be the spark that ignites the kerosene-soaked kindling of pillow people’s revolution – someone to stand up for pillow-kind to tell the world that they aren’t going to take it anymore. Maybe someone needs to spread the word that no longer will the pillow people be silent while their families and loved ones (and entire communities for that matter) are smeared and stained by the rich pungent browns and occasional greens of oppression.

Maybe I could be that leader; the one to act as the first step in their journey toward emancipation. Maybe I could usher these innocent and adorable pillow people into a new age of enlightenment and autonomy. Maybe I could lead an army of feather-filled fighters into a new kind of war for a new kind of liberation: liberation from poo.

I guess I could be that leader, but on second thought – if I did all that then who would wipe the poo off my butt crack?

Published in Volume 63, Number 23 of The Uniter (March 12, 2009)