Alls I wanted was something on my desk that wasn't in a to-be-read pile, or glowing ominously at me, or spewing toxins from a constantly-running 50 dB fan. Nothing too gaudy, nothing too large, nothing too expensive. Well take it from me, chicks and dicks, when you have a list like that add one more spec: "nothing too broken". Therein lies the tale.

Enough babbling. I ordered a Desktopper from a company called Despair.com — so really there should have been plenty of warning. So as not to end up in court with a copyright lawyer spelunking me for polyps, I'll allow you to see an unmolested version via a cutting-edge EXTRA-FANCY HYPERLINK. Dog bless teh Internets. Anyway, opening the package a week later I found my new tchotchke to be in sub-optimal form. Being a loyal (which is to say, depressed) paying (which is to say, charging) customer (which is to say, customer) I expected no satisfaction. This is still America, after all -- where Corporation is King! Herein I record for posterior the e-mail exchange.