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the joy of shredding

i’m out of the closet in nearly every aspect of my life, and now, after i tell you this, i’ll be completely out with no secrets left. well, practically none.

i love to shred.

i don’t mean shredding in the skateboarding/surfing sense. do those younguns still shred on their boards? or are they using other jargon to describe their rad moves, which i’m sure aren’t rad moves but some other phrase that i don’t know what it is either.

and i’m sure that calling them younguns, while deliberately fuddy-duddy-ish on my part, would seal my fate with them, and they’d have no interest in hearing my war stories about when i surfed or, to a much lesser degree, skated. and they’d probably ask me what a fuddy-duddy was.

at any rate, i’m talking about shredding in the sense that you probably thought it was, before i departed on this needless tangent. my identity got stolen a few years ago, and thanks to a prescient mail carrier, i was warned in time to put a stop to it before it got out of hand. but, owing to that experience, i learned of the joys of shredding.

is there anything on this earth more satisfying than shoving sensitive material into the gaping slot of paper death, and watching it disappear into the maw of the beast, and listening to the motor slow, then speed up after finishing the pulverizing of said sensitive material into tiny bits? if there is, i don’t know what it is.

well, i guess it’s sex. but other than that, and definitely food, and a furry cat on a cold night, i don’t know what it is.

i occasionally proselytize on this subject, warning people of the dangers of identity theft. and i encourage their acquisition of the shredding habit. personally, i recommend the cross cut shredder models, because the end result is more pulverized than the paper strips you get with cheaper models, and therefore is more emotionally satisfying. but any shredding is better than no shredding.

i recommended shredding to a co-worker recently; she had several boxes of paperwork going back many, many years. i think i must have been extra energetic or demonic or whatever, because she clearly caught the gleam in my eye and bought her own shredder.

and the next day, i saw her on the street outside the building, and she came running across the sidewalk, dashing in front of everyoone, and energetically reported “i got it, i understand, you were so right, it’s so satisfying.”

she splurged and got the cross-cut model, too.

if you haven’t shredded, you should try it. it’s better than therapy, more productive in the end, and much cheaper.

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