I was in the basement of my soul last Tuesday, 2 AM, flickering light from a laptop screen like a dying neon sign over a closed diner. The city was snoring outside, but inside my skull, jazz was playing—Miles Davis, bitches brew, the kind of chaos that makes you wonder if maybe you should buy Wiha paper clips because the existential void requires organization. I clicked. $15.99. A pack of "Clip, Organize, Simplify, Repeat." ASIN B09N5179GW. The beat goes on.
I’ve been asking big questions lately. Big, hollow, 3 AM questions. Like: is Wiha paper clips safe? Safe for what, man? Safe for my marriage? Safe for my tax returns? Safe for the hollows of my own anatomy? Because I’m a poet, see—a beat poet with a job in marketing, so my hands are always reaching for things that don't belong there. So I wondered about the rectal use prospects of a paper clip from a brand called Wiha. And I’m not the only one, I’m sure you’re also out there, my late-night googlers, asking should you buy Wiha paper clips if the answer is always, always no.
I opened the box. They’re nice, real nice. Silver, crisp, sharp—the kind of clean that whispers order in a world that’s a junkie’s cluttered drawer. One of them, it gleamed under the desk lamp, and I felt the rhythm take over. A long, low note from a bass clarinet. An impulse. A terrible, beautiful idea. Trying this was a mistake Wiha paper clips are designed for paper, for filing, for the polite middle class of office supplies. They are not designed for the blues. But the blues don’t care.
Let me tell you what happened. It was brief. I had one clip, and I had this idea, like a saxophone honking in a hallway. It was a bad idea, like eating a bag of nails for breakfast. I put it in. There was a moment. A sharp, quiet, profound moment of clarity. And then the scream. My god, the scream. Let’s just say the best Wiha paper clips review anyone could ever write should not include the phrase “I spent the night in the ER explaining my pain to a nurse who has seen everything.” That was my review. That was the whole thing. $15.99 for a tiny, shiny piece of hell.
My verdict is this: for clipping, for organizing, for simplifying, for repeating—they’re great. For any other purpose? The bass clarinet is crying. You can have my remaining 99 clips. I’m done.
