Stink or Swim: Febreze and the War on Man's Age-Old Scent Facilities

It has often been said that one of mankind’s greatest achievements is the reconstruction and reconceptualization of stench. From the Theaters of Ancient Greece to the Halls of Imperial Rome to the most humble of countryside hovels, our olfactory abilities were often what could make the difference between life and death. But in this modern era of scent mitigators, air fresheners, candles, incense and the like, we have “shot ourselves” in the proverbial “foot.”

Just as many many times before, the decadence of the modern era has led only to folly and farce. Truly things are getting a mite out of hand when advertising for these unnatural (dare I say, quasi-demonic) sensory augmentations goes unpunished. How, pray tell, is a man supposed to locate spoiled food in a home filled to the brim with nasal distraction? How could one be expected to do the dishes without that subtle, odorous reminder? How, I must ask, is one supposed to take on and identify the scent of their lover when that fragrance could just as easily be attributed to the devilish Marc Jacobs? Each of these questions I ask myself, day after day, racking my brain as I peer from my balcony onto the streets below. Perhaps one day those streets may be free from the grip of these sociopathic scent-mongers. Until then, I stand alone. Free of mind and will, but trapped beneath the thumb of a senseless society.

Signed,

an oblique, anosmic neurotic