Schaff: Washing dishes might suck, but saying it in writing’s worse

Can inanities make it into college newspapers? Can inanities make it into college newspapers? Let’s experiment…

I hate washing dishes. Of all typical things that overwhelm college students with a longing for home — realizing that Mom’s purse no longer functions as a suitable method of money collection, that soccer-ball-bespeckled minivans don’t park outside house parties to take us home, etc. — my crippling nostalgia involves plates, soap and sponges. My parents had a dishwasher, and boy, were those the days.

As a modern individual taught by my surroundings to value efficiency and moisturized cuticles, having to wash dishes by hand is the worst. You might relate, especially if you similarly rent one of Oakland’s state of the art, circa 19th-century off-campus apartments.

Some people call dishwashing “relaxing,” but in my view, that’s somewhat off. Staging heated (literally) battles with last week’s caked-on pasta sauce — which might be yours or your roommates’, depending on your apartment dynamic — has a low probability of producing emotionally healthy college students.

Dishwashing woes go beyond the wrinkled fingers of frustration. Most importantly, students tend to prefer other activities than putting a sponge to a plate. Washing dishes sucks time out of your schedule faster than your drain will suck down food particles and clog your pipes. Think of all of the wonderful things we could do with the time that we throw at the piles of dishes in our collective sinks: having social lives, passing classes, volunteering in Darfur, capping carbon dioxide emissions. What’s clear from this analysis is that widespread washing of dishes puts a damper on societal potential — a plug, if you will.

Hence, the obvious need for a “Mechanized Dishwasher Appreciation Day” at Pitt.

But wait — handwashing dishes never killed anybody (yes, I Googled it). And if I really felt threatened, I could always type “dishwasher” into Craigslist’s apartments page. In fact, you’re probably asking this: What drives me to take up space in a reputed newspaper for what on the surface seems like partially hydrogenated bibble-babble?

After all, it seems that I’ve decided to devote my hard-won editorial skills to a piece about my personal dishwashing qualms, while issues far more relevant and influential in the lives of Pitt students lie a-festering. (For example, you might expect me to talk about these things: the military’s official repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, the government’s overdue addressing of tax loopholes, the upcoming verdict for the Irvine 11 free speech case). Somehow, I’ve passed on these other, journalist-worthy topics in favor of a petty and self-absorbed rant about a household chore. But readers, have no fear — there’s indubitable worth in this column, especially after considering your likely armchair speculations:

First, it’s possible I was trying to be funny. Maybe you could relate to the trials of dishwashing, and in such a case you could be receptive to amateur attempts at wiggling your giggle box. But that’s probably not it.

A more likely scenario is ulterior motive, which should never be ruled out of any honest discourse. Cynics among you will invariably come to the corruption conclusion, that either Sears or Kenmore has slipped me stacks of Benjamins to put these words in print. “Glenn Beck and Goldline made it work, why can’t Matt Schaff?” you might ask. And there you’d have an unshakable point.

It could also be blackmail. By definition, a public figure of my stature almost surely has some damaging pictures, illegitimate children or blood diamonds stashed on a Caribbean island somewhere — maybe a disgruntled former coworker has acquired them and now wants to use The Pitt News to take sweet revenge.

Or maybe it’s political. Everything is these days, of course. Maybe I’m using playful anecdote to distract voters, thereby preventing Wisconsin’s U.S. Rep. Paul Ryan’s dreamy blue, tractor-beam eyes from selling the interests of America’s corporations to throngs of my unassuming collegiate compatriots. Or, more obviously, I could be making the way for the next dark horse Student Government Board candidate — of my prior selection — who plans to run on a dishwashers-for-all slate. Karl Rove might say my editorial support confers endless political utility — indeed, you can’t say for certain the “Architect” himself isn’t my SGB candidate of choice.

In the end, when your speculation vortex stops spinning, there’s always the most unlikely of contingencies: that for some reason I didn’t put forth enough courage, effort or time to tackle a challenging op-ed, one with any chance of addressing a real issue that affects real people (on campus or not). But that couldn’t be the explanation — columnists, by definition, produce worthwhile work on a weekly basis.

Although if readers nevertheless attack my work with charges of “inanity,” I could always blame it on my lack of a dishwasher.

If you’ve never thought about renting out space in your dishwasher but suddenly that idea appeals to you, don’t hesitate to email Matt Schaff at matthew.schaff@gmail.com. Make sure to applaud Matt’s profound writing in your email.