This thing is for monsters, really vile human trash heaps. The kind of people you imagine sitting in on an Illuminati-style board meeting deciding the fate of the world. There's a Middle Eastern sheik, a Texas oil tycoon in a cowboy hat, and a pile of money with eyes and a menacing laugh. They all use the Reinast toothbrush to cleanse their mouths of the poor people they eat for lunch before deciding which world leader to assassinate.

There is no reason relating to function that explains the $4,200 price tag. Seriously, it's been tested:

It's all a matter of opulence and how much of an asshole you want your teeth to perceive you as. It's not even electric. It's a $4,200 stick for your mouth that serves the same purpose as the toothbrushes the worst neighbor on the block gives out for Halloween every year. It's the kind of product that would get a special mention in a lottery winner's suicide note after they'd spent themselves into financial ruin.

On the Venn diagram of people who would buy a gold-plated toilet brush and people who are actually cleaning their own toilets, there is very little overlap. The people who buy this are essentially buying it for their housekeepers, which is the most extravagant gift a person can give a housekeeper besides the millions in child support they'll fork over after they plow the housekeeper.

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You think he bought one for the housekeeper he impregnated?

Who is the vapid, soulless creature who needs to tuck a $1,175 fuzzy shit stick within the shadow of their toilet to feel good about themselves? When they're feeling down and life isn't giving them a break they can pay their way out of, do they think about how they are the owners of a golden shit wand and then smile?

On the positive side, it's tarnish-free, which is nice. You and your family of snobby pricks can drench this thing with your misfired urine streams without a care! It won't corrode like your souls did long ago.

If I were a fish, I would think it was a crazy space squid and I would, of course, want to put it in my mouth, as I do even though I'm not a fish. Maybe I'm underestimating fish, but I feel like they're all a bunch of dipshits who will shove anything that squiggles in their mouths. I doubt they have the cognitive ability to choose an expensive meal over a cheap fast-food meal. I don't even think fish know how to choose. They float and do things and they don't know why. A fish's entire life is just accepting what's in front of it, not caring one way or another.

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Idiot.

Why spend $1 million on a tool used to catch a thing that's cognitively incapable of caring about how much money was spent catching it? If a guy escapes prison and a state-wide manhunt ensues that costs the state a huge amount in cash and redirected resources, that escapee will feel mighty proud of the fuss he's stirred up. No fish will ever be caught with the million-dollar lure that will be pulled out of the water and say, "Wow, I'm so honored. I must have been worth it." It'll flop and die, and you're going to have to rip the fish's head apart to retrieve the $1 million you willingly allowed it to eat because you're a stupid person.

Your butthole is one of the few things on your body that requires almost no pampering. Well, literal pampering up to a certain age, but pampering in the sense of going the extra mile to take care of it, showing it love and attention. For example, when fine oil is rubbed on a butthole, it's not to make the butthole feel luxurious or youthful; it's to prepare it for a much more intense experience to come.

They're tough. They can handle a lot. They're the crazy old coot down the block who shuns any hoity-toity, highfalutin modern convenience and luxury. Life's been tough to buttholes, and that's the way they like it. That's why wiping your ass with toilet paper embossed with a 24-carat gold motif is so very stupid.

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Buttholes.

Firstly, the word "motif" should be nowhere near a butthole, even when using "motif's" second definition of "a distinctive feature or dominant idea in an artistic or literary composition." You shouldn't be creating art or literature on the subject of buttholes. That's how you get made fun of.

Secondly, and on the subject of wiping away poop with gold: what the fuck, man? Let's put aside the obvious message people who spend $240 for a single roll of toilet paper embossed with gold are sending: "I literally wipe my ass with money." That's a given. What I find even more bizarre, and even offensive, is that the gold-embossed motif is customizable. The need for a human to have a toilet paper they can call their own, a toilet paper unique to them, with their own insignia that only their butthole will be able to truly appreciate, is a bit much. Buttholes don't want luxury rubbed in their faces a couple of times a day. Your butthole is a no-frills Virginia coal miner who just wants a beer after work, a steak for dinner, and two uninterrupted hours of TV every night. If it wanted fancy, it would shit in an Applebee's.

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Also buttholes.

It's a body part of simple, unsophisticated pleasures. Don't give it golden toilet paper crafted by a German ass-paper artisan; give it some two-ply, a wet wipe, and a hemorrhoid donut, and it's the happiest part of your body. Wiping your asshole with gold-embossed toilet paper basically creates a body-swap movie plot: your asshole becomes the mature voice of reason standing firmly against lunacy, and you become the asshole who wants to wipe away feces with gold.

Luis is gold-plating his plunger. In the meantime, you can find him on Twitter and Tumblr.

For more from Luis, check out 4 Everyday Activities that Are Way Scarier than You Expect and 4 Incredible Modern Technologies That Have Lost Their Luster.

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