Today, my stapler tried to kill me—twice. It wasn’t just an ordinary stapler. This stapler was my friend, Red Swingline. And I had no idea she was pissed off—until it was too late. I was trying to get billing ready, which requires Red’s assistance. After all, it’s what I got her for. Besides, if the billing doesn’t go out, no one knows what to pay, so they don’t pay anything, … [Read more...] about . . . and other dangerous things.