How to Rob an Object of any Meaningful Ontic Status

At work we receive large metal pieces that come with a board propped inside them to keep them square during shipping. These boards are seemingly unremarkable, though many are made of fine hardwoods, as they seem to be scraps from production of other parts made by the same company. Written across each board in permanent marker, though, is the word 'remove.' This of course was written in the imperative. It is an order to anyone that reads it telling that person that this board needs to be removed from its current situation.

This is all well and good when its purpose within the shipped metal piece is served. However, from the day that fateful instruction was scrawled across the face of that board until the end of time, that poor object will never find its place. Everywhere it finds itself it will simply sit there, telling anyone, anything, or any force available to nature that it must be removed. Certainly, one could attempt to end this once and for all by completely destroying the board, but to do so, one must put it in a place where this can happen. The result of this simple fact should be obvious. If one throws it in a fire, it will instantly command that it be removed from that fire. If one tries to blast it into deep space, it will continue to demand its own removal.

There, quite simply, is no way out of this quandary. The moment those workers wrote on that board they robbed it of having any place in this, or any, universe. Consequently, they robbed it of having any purpose (other than the trivial purpose of being removed) and they robbed it of any real existence. It is no longer a real thing, it is simply a signifier of its own need of removal.

I have taken one of these boards, and I shall spend my life constantly removing it. I will remove it from physical places. I will remove it from purposes. I will remove it from social situations. I will remove it in every way I can and from every place I can, for it is my quest now, not only to fulfill the purpose of that board, empty as it may be, but remind all of us of our tenuous place in this world. For, we ourselves are but one ill-chosen tattoo from this very limbo; we are but one word from losing all meaningful existence or purpose.