Curse You, Anonymous Shredder Jammer

Victory is mine, and I am mighty.

Armed only with a hemostat, hobby tweezers, and my considerable native cunning, I have managed to un-jam the office shredder from one of the most heroic jams I've ever seen. Oh, I was also armed with my bare hands. Did I mention those? I should have, because said bare hands are now decorated with an assortment of small cuts, bruises, and contusions. I am bleeding a bit, thank you very much. Also, I have a crick in my back, and machine oil in my hair.

There is a special circle of hell reserved for those who never check the shredder bin to see if the shredder is too full, who never change the bin bag when it is full, and who run far too many sheets at a time through the machine and then walk away from a disabled shredder they just jammed without a backward glance, and without telling anyone that it's jammed. I curse you deadly, anonymous shredder jammer.