Toilet Paper for our Troops!

My mother is an incorrigible gossiper. I know this is an odd way to start off for the evening, however, I'll show that (true) statement's relevance somewhere in paragraph two, or possibly three. Just wait for it. It'll be here soon. (I now see that it's going to be in paragraph three, but that was an artistic choice, don't judge me.)

To continue: Few and far between were the days where I would come home from school and not here my mother talking about one of her children, siblings, parents, co-workers, spouse, someone else's spouse, passing joggers, mailmen...the way I look(ed) at it goes something like this: If it's mildly personal, secretive or sensitive, my mother will find out about it. And she'll give you advice about it to boot. The thing is, amazingly, she doesn't actually make any calls. That's not how it works. This isn't something she does. It's something she is. She attracts gossip (and therefore, logically, gossipers) like planets attract moons. It is something so entirely outside of her control that if she didn't love it, it would kill her.

On to why this is, in anyway, important. The most recent juicy tidbit to find it's way to her is about my cousin, or rather, about my cousin's unit. Now, if you don't realize that I'm using the word "unit" to tell you that my cousin is in the military, you should now consider yourself "in the know." (He's in the Military.) Sometime earlier this week, my aunt (presumably the mother of my cousin) received a letter from a Marine Core secretary (there's a job we all want) that the soldiers were now responsible for receiving toilet paper, socks and other essentials from home. That's right. The Armed Forces have stopped paying for socks and toilet paper.

I don't know how to process this information. It's nearly incomprehensible to me. It's so far from logical and right that it might as well be on the moon. I could maybe argue socks. The Marines might want you to wear lame socks, but your socks are comfortable, and lucky (They used to have these two red stripes, see, but now they only have one. Because one strip faded. Get it?) and they're yours. But toilet paper? Really? At what point did the requisitions officer, quartermaster, or supply dude, whatever he/she is called these days, decide that toilet paper should be on the list of things that simply needed to be sent from home, the Marines either couldn't be bothered, or couldn't afford it. (We're still talking about TP here.) I'm down with chocolate, cigarettes and dirty magazines being sent from mom, but (okay not dirty magazines, but maybe the other stuff. Well not cigarettes...so I'm okay with chocolate.) why the TP? Whoever did this is an animal. An animal I say.

So what's next? The most basic creature comfort to make it out of the Renaissance was just taken away from, or at least some of, our troops. Next we should make them provide their own hats. Maybe they could rent their rifles, and have bullets sent to them from their local sporting goods stores.

I for one am all for starting a "Toilet Paper for our Troops" Movement. We can get together every weekend for what we'll call "TP drives." We'll gather as much of that soft, plush paper as we can. We'll rent trucks to hold the tons and tons of it that the generous spirited Americans would certainly bring us...

Then we'll drive to Washington and TP the house and workplace of whoever thought this was a good idea. (Dear Mr. President and random Senators/Congressman, you are not exempt from this. Fair is fair. If you were involved, you too should spend the morning in your bathrobes, grumping about "those damn kids" while you try, in vane, to get all of the wet toilet paper out of your tree, and off your mailbox.)