Ah, teepeeing—the lost art of hurling rolls of toilet paper high into the air and watching them flutter down like festive streamers on trees in your unsuspecting neighbor’s yard.
Back in the day, teepeeing was a rite of passage. Maybe even a form of art. It also forged bonds stronger than any group chat or TikTok trend.
I thought my teepeeing days were over. But recently, my daughters, having picked up the spirit of the mischief, roped me into taking them around our neck of the woods to help teepee their buddies. I found myself at 41, sneaking around bushes and tossing rolls like it was the good old days.
And as I looked around, I couldn’t help but wonder: Where did all the teepeers go?
Today, kids are more likely to launch virtual attacks in video games than actually put their sneakers on and TP a yard. The result?
A sputtering toilet paper industry and a generation of teens who wouldn’t know rebellion if it unraveled in front of them.
A Tradition Lost
Consider the process. You and a few friends pile into the back of someone’s dad’s minivan. Armed with 12-packs of Charmin Ultra Strong, you tiptoe to the neighbor’s prized oak and leave a blizzard of white hanging among the branches by the time someone finally busts out the front door.
Quick update on the process – apparently we like to shred TP with our hands now and sprinkle it across the yard. I was skeptical of this approach until cleaning up my own yard full of shredded TP.
It’s a solid move.
But the days of teepeeing as a teenage birthright are gone, thanks to a number of disturbing trends. Teenagers are too socially awkward to sneak out and pull off such a caper. Parents, working from home or “checking in” on their GPS apps, are able to monitor every second of their children’s whereabouts.
And perhaps worst of all? Ring doorbells and motion-activated security cameras have turned every lawn into an impenetrable fortress.
Thanks, Jeff Bezos.
This is a loss for youth mischief – and the economy.
How many times have we seen industries shaped by the whims of teenage rebellion? The TP industry, fueled for years by loose curfews and zero respect for landscape design, has been gutted.
According to IBISWorld, the U.S. toilet paper market, valued at around $13.4 billion, is now trudging along at an uninspired 1.5% annual growth rate—barely outpacing inflation.
Ring Doorbells: The Killjoys of Capitalism
Back to Bezos. Ring doorbells have transformed our neighborhoods into a series of mini-surveillance states. Every time a teenager so much as thinks about launching a roll over a fence, a friendly notification pops up on the homeowner’s phone alerting them to the mischief.
These devices are breeding a new generation of children terrified of open air. We have traded the thrill of evading porch lights for endless Snapchat selfies and anxieties about being tracked.
And let’s be clear: Ring doorbells are not making anyone safer—they’re just robbing the toilet paper industry of its most loyal clientele.
Back in 2020, toilet paper sales hit a staggering 700% increase during the panic buying frenzy of COVID, but demand dropped by 33% the following year (Nielsen). Think about it: One pandemic gave toilet paper the boost teepeeing used to provide regularly.
Helicopter Parenting is the Real Pandemic
It’s no secret that parents are now more involved in their children’s lives than ever. They go to the same coffee shops, share the same social media platforms, and even, in some cases, coordinate outfits.
In this world of chummy parent-child relationships, teepeeing has become taboo. Parents are too available, too connected, and too well-versed in technology to let such harmless mayhem unfold.
Where does this leave our humble toilet paper manufacturers? They used to count on an army of teens. Every Friday night, they knew rolls would be flying, and by Saturday, remorseful parents would be scrambling to restock.
Today, only 22 percent of kids spend time outdoors daily, according to the National Recreation and Park Association (NRPA), compared to 71 percent in previous generations. A single teepeeing incident would probably lead to family therapy.
Environmental Guilt: The Death of Fun
Of course, there’s the new twist of “environmental awareness.” Today’s Gen-Z youth are guilt-ridden about everything from plastic straws to airplane travel.
Teepeeing, to them, is a waste of resources. Do they care about the economics of supply and demand? Of course not!
When did we start letting eco-consciousness ruin fun? Could we at least have designated, eco-friendly TP houses, where teenagers could take biodegradable rolls to create a tapestry of suburban delinquency?
We’ve traded mischief for craft projects, and frankly, the profits just don’t compare.
Bring Back the TP Blitz
I have the solution.
Encourage the return of teepeeing as a celebrated form of mild vandalism. Reclaim the thrill of rolling through neighborhoods in sweatpants and hoodies, covertly tossing Sam’s-sized rolls over fences.
What we need are grassroots campaigns: Community rallies to bring back the lost art of teepeeing. Think of it as a public works project, a way to reinvest in the community and stimulate the economy.
May the youth of tomorrow rise up with rolls in hand, ready to restore our nation’s rightful legacy as a place of independence, teepeeing, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.