how toilet paper work

Seems like the common and rational way, arguably universal. The toilet paper rests openly flayed outward for one to grab, almost gracing the edge of one’s knee; to draw it towards its fated clump is to spin the wheel naturally forward. Despite my many flaws, I consider myself a very rational and logical person, and feel that this situation is the objective, perhaps even ethical “right” way of doing things — to the point where I feel that people who disagree with this issue are less equipped to deal with life in general, like they are intrinsically flawed human beings. Grant me such liberty to say the issue at stake is ontological: does the universe extend towards oneself, or retract from it? Is it sentient of morons who set things up improperly? If we are alone in the universe, do we not have the solemn responsibility to makes things a little easier for us? Notice that the edge of the toilet paper is relatively far away from the wall — walls which, if you’re man whose bachelorhood doesn’t instill an incentive to “aim,” might be spotted with urine. Sometimes when I do my business, I like to gaze at the welcoming edge of the toilet paper. I employ ~2-3 restrained yet earnest grunts, my incumbent material silently leaving my viscera. To the stoic sitter, this is how one does it. True, I am not the happiest or most well-adjusted person in the world, but I do have reason on my side. Goodbye burrito, goodbye Pad Thai, says the polite