A couple of weeks ago, we wrote about the great toilet paper shortage of 2020. It gave us a great opportunity to indulge in the sort of lowbrow humor that made MAD magazine such a hit with 10-year-old boys. The problem turns out to be simple. Toilet paper makers produce two separate products for two separate markets: the plushy stuff we use at home and the scratchy stuff we find at offices and businesses. With coronavirus stay-at-home orders keeping us housebound, we've upset that usual balance of supply and demand.
Our calendar is full of "Hallmark holidays": meaningless commemorations and celebrations, usually created by marketers and publicists. Just this month, there's National Talk Like Shakespeare Day, National Hug a Plumber Day, and National Wear Pajamas to Work Day. (That last one may not feel like a celebration right now). Food fans have National Burrito Day, National Chocolate Covered Cashew Day, and Lima Bean Respect Day. (Two out of three ain't bad.) Literally every day marks a holiday of some sort. Think of them as participation trophies for the days that can't be real holidays.
Coronavirus has turned millions of Americans who used to laugh at the doomsday preppers on National Geographic into converts. Your neighborhood supermarket is working overtime to keep shelves stocked as panicked shoppers rush to settle in for stay-at-home orders. And the first item to disappear was . . . (checks notes) . . . toilet paper. Your grocery store aisle is probably still bare, and even Amazon ran out. But why? Is it because, as some psychologists say, bringing home the sheer bulk of a jumbo pack gives shoppers a sense of control in uncertain times? Or something more nefarious?
Millions of us who are staying at home in this time of coronavirus are discovering to our dismay just how much the clown car of halfwits, freaks, and grotesques of "reality TV" has taken over our living rooms. The endless parade of bachelors, teen moms, real housewives, and Kardashians have slowly sapped at our dignity. So what if we told you we'd found the most insane reality of all? Something one critic described as "like watching a slow-motion car crash, but only if that car crashed into a jet plane and then both tumbled into an oil tanker"? Would that convince you to finally watch?
And . . . what if we told you it had tigers?