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The Charmin Bears Must Die

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Welcome to Alice Column, in which Alice Laussade writes stories about things on (roughly) the same day of (roughly) every week, making it (roughly) a column. Got an idea for a column? Start your own blog and write it up, you lazy shit.

You were innocently watching crappy reality television when it happened. Something broke into your program and burned into your eyes the most destructive images. It was more horrifying than when you walked in on your parents doing sex on each other. More frightening than baby jeggings. More torturous than a Two and a Half Men marathon.

See also: My Lady Parts and I Have a Few Questions for the Makers of Bic For Her Pens

Years later, the moment still haunts you. You're fine most of the time, but then a flash hits you and you see toilet paper pieces stuck to a cartoon bear's butt. Why is a bear using toilet paper?! And how is he accessing enough toilet paper to have a toilet paper preference, as these 30-second nightmares seem to insinuate? Is he stealing from campers? Does he have a bear day job? Did he fill out a bear W-2? If he claims zero dependents, will he get the maximum bear tax refund? Did he use cash or bear credit to pay for the toilet paper?

The Charmin Bears can never be unseen.

The worst part is, you sincerely thought it couldn't get worse than bear cling-ons. Surely, Charmin would have to stop running these ads after a year, right? You were so incredibly, woefully wrong.

The most recent ad shows a mother bear doing bear laundry (just like she should be, because that's a lady bear job). She discovers shit stains in her bear son's underwear. Which he apparently wears? Perhaps only to benefits and fancy occasions? In any case, you just saw a skid mark ad on the TV. SKID MARKS.

And these ads don't stop with just cartoon bears -- they knew how horrified you were by the blue-liquid toilet paper demo, so they kept that around, too. Fifteen seconds or so into the awfulness, they pour water on some toilet paper, which immediately leads you to projectile vomit on your television screen. If you could still make out what was happening on your television, you'd know some fucking sicko even added quarters to the demonstration to prove the incredible strength of this butt wipe. So, if you're shitting quarters, rest easy: Charmin holds a whole buck of pooped quarters, versus the leading brand, which holds only two shat bits.

The story line you're getting at this point is that bears shit money in houses that they live in somewhere in the woods, and they not only do laundry, but they also insist on using toilet paper to wipe their bear asses. Instead of buying Charmin, you intend to hunt down a magical, money-shitting bear to do your laundry. That is, if the nightmares ever stop. Please make them stop.

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