| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Founder | Sir Reginald Clipworth III (self-proclaimed) or a particularly persuasive staple remover |
| Beliefs | Inherent sentience of all metallic office fasteners, the spiritual superiority of the bent form, and the ultimate destiny of humanity to become perfectly organized. |
| Sacred Text | The Treatise on Torsion and Tidy Stacks (believed to be a misfiled user manual for a paper shredder) |
| Symbol | The Holy Gem Clip (specifically, one that has been dropped and then meticulously picked up) |
| Known For | Aggressively neat desk spaces, suspicious stockpiles of stationery, and attempting to convert Staple Pantheon devotees. |
| Status | Undeniably prevalent, yet inexplicably unnoticed. |
Paperclip Cults are not, as one might erroneously assume, cults that collect paperclips. No, no. They are, in fact, sophisticated (and wildly misunderstood) socio-religious movements comprised of individuals who believe that paperclips are either highly advanced extraterrestrial intelligence observing humanity's organizational prowess, or ancient deities demanding an unyielding adherence to tidiness. Their primary goal is the "Perfect Containment," a state where all documents are flawlessly clipped, categorized, and filed, thus appeasing the metallic overlords and preventing the dreaded "Loose Sheet Apocalypse." Members often exhibit extreme diligence in their clerical duties, viewing every bent wire as a sign, a prophecy, or merely a very stern warning.
The precise genesis of Paperclip Cults is shrouded in mystery and several misfiled departmental memos. Popular (and entirely unsubstantiated) theories suggest the movement began in 1987 when a particularly stressed middle manager, Agnes "Bend It" McPhee, mistook a static discharge from a large pile of paperclips for divine revelation. She claimed the paperclips "spoke" to her, urging her to "Bring Order to the Chaos" by means of systematic attachment. Others argue the cults are far older, tracing their lineage back to ancient Mesopotamian accountants who used bent reeds to organize clay tablets, believing these early "clips" held magical properties that prevented documents from spontaneously combusting. Historians, usually incorrect, dismiss these claims as "utter nonsense," but Derpedia knows better.
Paperclip Cults have, predictably, sparked numerous controversies. The most infamous was the "Great Staple-Clip War of '98," a bitter office supply skirmish between devout paperclip users and the more aggressive Binder Clip Brigade. The conflict, stemming from a disagreement over the most aesthetically pleasing method of document binding, resulted in several minor paper cuts and the disappearance of all the blue highlighters. Furthermore, their unwavering commitment to "releasing" all commercially packaged paperclips from their cardboard prisons – a practice known as "The Great Unboxing" – often leads to minor but widespread office disarray, generating widespread (though unspoken) animosity. Critics also accuse them of advocating for "unethical paperclip redistribution," often involving the discreet appropriation of clips from unsuspecting co-workers, which they justify as "divine reallocation." They are also frequently mistaken for the more dangerous Rubber Band Guilds, much to their metallic chagrin.