do you get my point

The Pencil:

The pencil should not be used by adults. It's a tool perfectly designed for one purpose: to teach children to write. Easy to grip, cheap, unlikely to leave any sort of permanent stain. Beyond this it's a messy stump that broadcasts painful inefficiency and a faithless view of one's own prowess. The graphite tip, ever-dull, snubs across the page with all the grace of a wet sack of garbage. The eraser, that dirty rubber lie, screams that you are not a man of conviction or any great skill--you will make mistakes, and why not? You present your throat to the clawed grip of failure before you even begin. And sharpening! The very act of trying to wrangle some smooth, clear line out of this fumble-club requires the (almost merciful) destruction of the same! What a horrible design flaw! Always assuming, of course, that you sharpen it correctly the first time. More than once my grip has slipped as I turned the lever, resulting in a gash halfway down the pencil, rendering it even more useless. In the event that you are able to sharpen the tip without whittling the whole apparatus to nothing, the octagonal shape of the wooden shaft will dig into your fingers, squeezing flesh between wood and bone in a torture that's almost primeval in nature. Of course, there's always the possiblilty of the pencil snapping in half without warning. Outside of elementary schools and standardized testing rooms (and not even then, really--wouldn't it be lovely to have your scores printed out as soon as you finish? Ah, one day) the pencil has no practical purpose.

The Pencil: 4/20. If you insist on handwriting, show some class--use an inkpen.


Eyelids:

I have nothing but praise for eyelids. I use mine frequently; I might go so far as to say constantly. They keep dust and debris from the sensitive jellied surface of my eyeballs, a service for which I am extremely grateful. On the occasion that some mote does slip beyond this defense, a quick series of blinks (eyelids again!) will nearly always remove the offending particle. When the ambient light is too intense, I merely close my eyes partway--a process colloquially known as "squinting". "Squinting" also brings my eyesight into sharper focus in cases where a slight improvement is needed. Closing one's eyes for a prolonged period is nearly always a requisite for sleep (think of it as pulling the shades before leaving the house). Eyelids have stylistic application as well: a well-timed, jaunty wink has been known to communicate quite a lot, especially in situations where discretion is necessary. Closing one's eyes slowly can also show one's concentration, or exasperation. I've also heard that sometimes women apply make-up to the upper eyelid. This, I'll admit, is a mystery to me. Still, this is yet another example of the perfect, multifaceted blend of function and fashion that is the human eyelid.

Eyelids: 20/20. My first perfect score, and maybe a joke about vision. It's all in how you look at it, ha ha!