Jimbo ponders the big questions, as usual. To wrap, or not to wrap? That is, hygienically speaking, the big question. I personally might put a wafer-thing sheaf of paper between my rosy cheeks and the seat, should it come to that. It’s more out of habit than from any hope of erecting a sort of magical barrier, blocking diseases. It is, after all, merely a micrometer-thin sheet of tissue, and not a Trojan.

But it’s important a) not to overdo it, and b) clean up after yourself. We had a mystery in our dorm, back in college days. Two or three times a week, somebody would take a dump in the same men’s room stall, and leave a protective ring of toilet paper on the seat that was at least 4 inches deep; hundreds of layers of toilet paper, probably weighing 5 pounds. The day or time was unpredictable, there being no obvious pattern other than it always in the same stall.

We pondered often whence the infamous ass-gasket came, and who the builder could be. We were often convinced it was somebody we knew, someone in the clique, and no one was above suspicion. Eventually, every one was cleared with an airtight alibi; Easter vacation, for example, or having failed out of school. Yet the ass-gasket persisted; nay, flourished.

We never found out who had built it, or for what reasons it was piled so high. It remains a mystery to this day, part of the lore of Georgia Tech’s Towers Hall for Young Men.