About 20 years ago I found a fantastic mirror at a flea market. It had a 2 color screen printed image of a 1930s rocket on an alien landscape. Blue and orange. It was wonderfully tacky and awesome.
I didn't punch it, but it was raining as I got home with it, and as I was opening the door to my house it slipped from my grip, broke into shards as it fell, and the biggest heaviest piece slit my wrist wide open. I thought it was ironic, because I didn't want to die at that time. Things were pretty good then.
Even as I was in a mild panic trying to stop the bleeding and decide if I needed to go get stitches, I was really pissed that I broke the best mirror I'd ever seen just an hour after I'd bought it.
Only remotely related to the topic, but it reminded me of that.