The most poignant thing about the Wonderfile infomercial is how desperately this product is needed.  I don't know what happened to our dreams of a paperless future, but that is just not where life landed us.  Staying on top of all the paper is, in theory, why everyone buys a laptop.  But all that happens is you end up jamming all your paper into your laptop bag, on top of the power cord.

At the same time, Wonderfile addresses this problem in the worst possible way: by wadding it up and stuffing it in a drawer. 

Imagine a combination of Trapper Keeper and origami, and you're getting close.  The Wonderfile is the size of six sheets of paper, more or less, set out three on top and three on the bottom.  It has all kinds of pockets and straps and snaps and zips. 

The idea here is that you take all the paper on your desk, and jam it into the Wonderfile.  Then you can fold it in half, and then fold it in thirds, and presto!  A clean desk! 

But here's the evil part: you didn't clean your desk.  You just jammed it all into the Wonderfile.

O seductive temptress, delivering us the illusion of productivity!  The ad even shows a woman cramming her Wonderfile into a drawer and closing the drawer and looking around with a satisfied air.  As if she had actually done something!  But she didn't do something.  She just hid it from view.  Hiding your paperwork is not "doing" your paperwork, except at the most denial-heavy sense.

Problem 2 with the Wonderfile is that it looks horribly dorky.  "You can take it anywhere," the infomercial chirps.  I'm telling you the first time I see someone earnestly unfold this thing at a Starbucks I am going to laugh until I pee my pants.

Cut to a busy executive, a man in a three-piece suit, heavily gelled hair, a heavy oak desk, and behind him a bookcase full of Important Reference Books.  His hair is graying at the temples.  Behind him on the wall is hung a framed certificate.  Beside it, a potted plant.  What does he do for a living?  Based on the set design alone, I would guess he is a personal injury attorney.  His office looks just like every office you ever see on a late-night television ad for a personal injury attorney.

He's folding up his Wonderfile so he can take his work home.  Not pictured: the coworkers laughing themselves silly around the corner. 

The busy executive points out problem #3 with the Wonderfile, which is that we solved this problem a couple hundred years ago.  Using an ingenious device called a "file" and a "briefcase," or its tabletop version, the "accordion file."  Files also come in a student version called the "Pee Chee folder." 

There's even a super-sized version, for high-demand usage called a "filing cabinet."  It's thousands of Wonderfiles in one convenient metal unit!  Drawers slide in and out!  Store anything - from receipts to hobby materials!