A Self-Indulgent Foray into Gimmicky Anthropomorphism

When you put paperclips in a container together, they shack up in long polyamorous chains, so that when you pull out one the rest hold onto it and won't let go, stubbornly entangled, as if by clinging to each other they can present a unified front against the indignity of being reduced to their mere functional raison d'être, that is, the indignity of being used to clip paper. It is usually effective. Either because I can't be bothered to separate them or because I don't have the heart to destroy their beautiful albeit untraditional strings of love, I riffle through the container in search of an unattached clip. It feels better, somehow, to pick off the ones that are already miserable and alone.