To Chisel or Bullet, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous chisels, or to take arms against a sea of plump bulleted markings, and by opposing, end them. To erase; to reason, no more, and by a reasoning to say we end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural doodles that dry erase is heir to; 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd, to erase, to reason; to reason, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rubbing away; When we have shuffled off this colorful display, must give us pause; there's the conflict that makes a hodge podge of so long demonstrations: for who would bear the purples and reds of statistics; the competition's advertising, the boss's scrutiny, the pangs of lost sleep, the executive delays, the insolence of critics, and the spurns of editors. To grunt and sweat under a weary life. Ahhhh...and here I place the back of my hand to my forehead and near swoon...

Why not just buy them both...

ay, there's the rub: