By Greg Pavlik’s Less Polite Doppelgänger

It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great and fragrant nation to behold the starved children, hollow-eyed and undernourished, even as their neighbors waft past in a haze of lavender body spray and “Ocean Breeze” detergent. While the one withers for want of bread, the other has three varieties of soap: for the face, for the body, and, heaven help us, for the loofah.

I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

The proposal is this: Americans must cease to wash and perfume themselves beyond what is medically necessary, and devote the billions thus saved to the feeding of their fellow citizens.

Let us tally the arithmetic: each household squanders approximately $1,200 annually upon deodorants, perfumes, laundry excess, and other devices for the suppression of their natural human bouquet. With 130 million households, we arrive at $156 billion per annum. The USDA estimates that $25 billion would end food insecurity in America. Thus, by merely tolerating the faint musk of humanity, we can solve hunger six times over, with enough left in reserve to buy every child a toothbrush and the occasional stick of gum.

I can think of no objection that will possibly be raised against this proposal, unless it be urged that American noses are too delicate, their olfactory sensibilities too refined to endure even the slightest whiff of another human being. To which I reply: the Italians survive it. The French, who practically bathe in Camembert and Gauloises, survive it. Even the English, who endured centuries of chamber pots emptied in the street, survived it. Surely the rugged descendants of pioneers can survive a Tuesday without Tide Pods.

Some may say this plan threatens the noble industries of soap and deodorant. But I assure them, even with the proposed reductions, there will still be ample markets for basic hygiene. And if corporations truly fear ruin, let them pivot toward feeding the hungry: “Procter & Gamble’s Newest Scent—Roast Chicken with Mashed Potatoes.”

Therefore I declare, with the utmost seriousness disguised as satire, that no nation can call itself great if it chooses lavender-scented laundry sheets over the bellies of its children. Let Americans for once smell like people—and feed people.