when I was 14 and volunteering at a local ISP, I found myself bored and sitting on the receptionists desk. I discovered that it was sort of fun to place my hand in the stapler and flick it up, such that it bounced up and down on its spring.

As is inevitable when one has painted a scene like this, I slipped off the desk. Or rather, most of my slipped off the desk -- the hand in the middle of the stapler did not. Reflexes did what they will, and I instinctively tried to balance myself on the one hand that seemed steady. A head wrapped into a stapler.

Five seconds later there was blood spattered over the walls and floor, and I was rolling on the floor, laughing like a lunatic. It was painful, but even more than being painful it was hilarious. It was such an obvious, stupid, inevitable thing to have happen. It was so fucking predictable!

People offered to take me to the hospital, but I just put a few band-aids on it and went home. If I end up dying from that, I thought, it's evolution.


Think metahistorically, act locally. -- CheeseburgerBrown
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was one of the headlines on the elevator screen this afternoon. So I guess a lot of people are needing ammosupplies for just this kind of demonstration.

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"Slick Loons Cow Stumbling Readers." —toxicfur
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