I cut my thumb on my shaving razor yesterday at the Oakland Airport security checkpoint, when I was digging in my suitcase to retrieve my clear, one quart ziplock bag of 3-ounce-or-less bottles of liquids. The razor neatly shaved off a convex disc of flesh from the tip. Blood flowed out in a steady drip. A kindly TSA employee directed me to a secure plexiglass cage and told me to wait while she retrieved a band-aid.
I don't ever want to cut my finger on the razor again, so I put a binder clip over the blade. Since I am a firm believer in resistentialism (the theory that inanimate objects demonstrate hostile behavior towards us), it gives me great pleasure to imagine my razor crying out in pain from being pinched by the binder clip. It's a just punishment, wouldn't you agree?