Amid many exciting announcements of proposed developments at Dartmouth, there has been one particular comet in the distance that has been ignored, one fiery mass of earth-rending power that no one seems to talk about. I am referring, of course, to the approaching dawn of two-ply toilet paper at Dartmouth.
Gone are the days of one-ply tyranny! O happy lavatories! If you will recall, my very first editorial in The Dartmouth was way back in Fall '98. October, to be exact. The subject? A call to arms for the end of one-ply toilet paper: "Rally Round the John." I demanded a radical movement for the institution of wide-spread two-ply toilet paper, that glorious opiate of the masses, as Karl Marx once said. And now, my dream has become a reality. Fate? you may say. Destiny? The world reasserting its karma?
I think not. I imagine that ever since my famed editorial found life within these pages, rebellion has been fomenting underneath the usually placid surface of Dartmouth. Only now have these forces risen, crying out with the indignity of ages. Will I eventually become a hero? Perhaps I will be crowned ruler of the new era being ushered in by two-ply. After all, I planted the germ of revolution. I should start thinking of an acceptance speech now. "Joyous throne-sitters, we are entering a phase in our lives that promises peace, prosperity and comfort for all. Lo, you have all led lives of quiet desperation in the spurring of this great cause. And now, you are rewarded. Never again shall you suffer with cheeks inflamed, scowling at the indifference of the universe! Blessed are those who suffer long, for they have discovered the true meaning of lavatorial stoicism. It is your time now; it is our time. We are the children of two-ply. We, my brothers and sisters, we are Generation TP!"
What does one do for such a grand ceremony as the celebration of two-ply? I ought to begin the initial stages of planning it. The ideal site, of course, would be the bathroom of the First Family, arguably the most important lavatory on campus. Unfortunately it was neglected in The D's recent article on the inner secrets of their household, so I will have to reach into speculation as to what it is actually like. I imagine the presidential bathroom as one of infinite splendor, with cascading waterfalls and marble promontories, the noble walls lined with potted azaleas and ferns -- a veritable paradise. The toilets would be equipped with a leather back and armrests, with perhaps a holder for beverages and a stock of magazines underneath -- the very latest in Time, Fortune, and MAD Magazine. Reclining would also be an option, if it was so desired. There would be a servant designated specifically for the lavatory. He'd walk over, dressed impeccably in gold and stripes, and ask: "Your usual scented two-ply, sir?"
The First Bathroom would also, of course, feature a hot tub the size of a small swimming pool, in the shape of a D, with the words "Vox Clamantis in Jacuzzio" spelled out in tiles around it. A sauna would occupy one corner of the chamber, because even college presidents need a little steam treatment once in a while. The showers would rain clear mountain spring water on whosoever stepped beneath their crystalline heads. An Eden, one might say, for which Dartmouth's Adam and Eve might wave their proverbial fig leaves in pride? Indeed. Indeed.
Therefore, the ceremony will take place in that facility, and afterwards a march will ensue across the campus. As we stride along, saluting heaven and earth for their fortuitous contribution to the bathrooms of our friends, our neighbors, our classmates, our soulmates, we will be joined by students who, taking up the brightly-colored standards of our joy, will fall into step among us, and we will sing. O God, our voices will lift up to the celestial palace, to God's Throne, and we will cry, "Praised be thy two-ply splendor!"
Amen.
