Invention is central to human advancement.  It has made heroes out of innovators like Thomas Jefferson and the first porn starlet to postulate "Well, why not in the butt?".  Invention can take the shape of a life-saving medicine, technology that links the edges of the world closer, or something actually important like this:

Sierra Nevada set aside some time from making delicious liver repellent to use their leftovers and craft brew some biofuel.  It is an efficient fuel that outperforms Coors in national taste tests.  Now if they can only find a way to deep fry it and integrate it on my cell phone, it will be the greatest American invention to date.

Of course not every idea is created equal.  Some inventions fail to address a pressing need, others look like the result of monkeys ejaculating ink on to a patent application.  I’ve decided to celebrate the latter.
 

Mimi Switch (or iTourettes)
 

The design of most handheld gadgets continues to converge on nanotechnology.  Soon their tiny interfaces will invalidate our opposable thumbs, an advantage that kept mankind from making its last mark 12,000 years ago in a pile of sabre-tooth dung.  

You’ll wonder "How did I ever live without an iPod fitted for my nostril before?"!

 

One man decided to solve that problem.  That man failed.

Inventor Kazuhiro Taniguchi has developed a hands-free apparatus that can be used to control any electronic device. It is a micro-computer connected to ear mounts that use sensors to detect changes in facial expression.  Allow me to demonstrate how this would work to control a mp3 player, using stills from a video of this girl making different faces on command for 4 minutes (arguably the least bizarre video to come out of Japan to date): 

The Face You’re Making	Signal To iPod	What It Signals To Everyone Else
	Pause	"I’m pre-roofied so feel free to tenderize my chin with your balls"
	Play	"I’m pooping"
	Fast Forward	"I just smelled the aforementioned poop"
	Rewind	"I’m going to satisfy your curiosity about what a 3/4 digested Denny’s Grand Slam looks like"
	Menu	"The demon living in my head just told the BEST joke"

Taniguchi believes there are still vast expanses of crazy this has yet to explore.  "It monitors natural movements of the face in everyday life and accumulates data," Taniguchi told AFP in an interview. "If it judges that you aren’t smiling enough, it may play a cheerful song."  I hope you’ll forgive us if we don’t turn our psychiatric care over to the country that birthed tentacle fucking.

Jim wasn’t sure if he wanted to live or die.   Katrina And The Waves reminded him to find his gun.

Peekaru
 

The immediate bond forged between mom and baby is as essential as it is endearing.  While some mammals are able to walk and feed just minutes out of the womb, human evolution has opted to hatch us as pink sacks of helplessness.   Any product designed to facilitate our nurturing is valuable, though occasionally the line between bonding and bondage is crossed:

The Peekaru (not to be mistaken for Pikachu’s degenerate Peeping Tom cousin from discarded Pokemon lore) can tote your papoose in a variety of positions, but lots of carriers do that.  This is the only one that makes it look like your child is traversing space-time and emerging from a wormhole in your chest.  Come to think of it, this is more reminiscent of another sci-fi reference:

At least she isn’t being a little bitch about it like Kane was
 

USB Cigarettes
 

I generally assume this blog is geared at adults.  More specifically, emotionally stunted adults like myself, but technically adults nonetheless.  On the off-chance there are any kids reading this, I do have some wisdom I’d like to impart.

Cigarettes make you so goddamned cool. 

It’s undeniable.  Sure, medical professionals claim they will kill you, but they aren’t telling you the whole truth.  Statistics show that 93% of non-smokers declare deathbed remorse for how many uncool years they slaved through.  The other 7% were decapitated and thus said nothing, but probably would echo the same. If you doubt the power of the cigarette, I direct you to Exhibit A:

 

Now observe what happens when I use photoshop to remove the cigarette:

Horrifying, right?  Don’t worry – this doesn’t have to happen to you.  You can get cigarettes at any convenience store, supermarket or smokeshop.  Or, if that is too complicated, you can go to thankyo.jp, place an order, wait a week or two for delivery and then make sure your computer is running so you can plug one of these absurd things in:

Despite looking like something a blow-up doll would smoke after sex, it’s not a gag.  It’s an actual nicotine atomizer that provides a smoker’s high without all that pesky augmentation of sex appeal.  If you want to smoke something that carries about as much cachet as a bubblegum cigar, this may be your dream peripheral.

Mmmmm…tastes like emasculation

Worse still, this product sets a dangerous precedent.  Not to invoke the "slippery slope" logic, but if USB cigarettes catch on, can THIS be far behind?:

"brb – chasing the dragon"

Ian Cheesman thanks gizmodo for pointing to so much great content, but a very special thanks goes out to delusional mental patients for making their products a reality.  You can visit other mental patients at Scenic Anemia.

Since Octomom exploded on to the collective consciousness like a…well…a vagina that spat out 8 kids, she’s become something of a circus (which is fitting since her uterus was essentially a clown car).  Yet, for all of the controversy surrounding this, there’s one thing that everyone can agree on – that birth was probably foul.  We’re talking the kind of explosion of fluids that other vaginas hear about and spontaneously sew themselves shut.

Octomom might be a spectacle in human terms, but her story has got nothing on the animal kingdom.  Here are just 3 quick stories of mom’s whose reproductive struggles are so incredible that it almost makes me want to reach out to the innumerable women I’ve impregnated throughout the nation.  Almost.

Like this, only with sperm

Supermom #1 – The Octopus

Did you know that when Bryan Adams penned his hit “Everything I Do (I Do It For You)” it was actually a ballad about octopi?  No?  You never wondered why he was called “The Jacques Cousteau Of Canadian Rock”?  Well, he wasn’t kidding. An Octopus mom’s sacrifices for their offspring practically entitles them to martyrdom.  If only more octopi were Catholic…

The female octopus is a one-stop insemination shack.  This is true of both of her reproductive specializations and her reputation among scuba divers for being the Drunken Prom Date of the sea:

Once you go invertebrate, you never go back

Depending on the species, they can carry anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000 eggs.  If she is knocked up before her eggs are fully fertile, she can actually keep the sperm alive in her for weeks until the eggs are ready.  In short, never go digging through an octopus’ purse unless you’re prepared for what they might be hoarding.

The female cares for the eggs alone with great dedication, much to the chagrin of more socially conservative fish.  She protects them from predators and even blows currents of water over them to ensure they get adequate oxygen.  She doesn’t even eat for the month-long span she spends tending to them (human mothers complaining about dropping “baby weight” should be taking notes here).  Shortly after the eggs hatch, the mother dies, either from starvation or after reading about projected college costs for her kids.

Supermom #2 – Surinam Toads

The Surinam Toad is better than your mom in both her maternal sacrifices and her willingness to have really freaky sex.  Considering the stuff your mom lets me get away with, that’s really saying something.

The female releases batches of eggs which the male fertilzes and packs on to her back. 60 to 100 eggs will adhere to the spongy skin on her back until the female’s back begins to swell around the eggs.  They literally implant INTO her skin, producing a honeycomb pattern.  They’ll remain wriggling in her skin for 12 to 20 weeks, assuming she doesn’t opt to eat a bullet because heebies are driving her to madness.

At least when I fertilize your mom’s back she can just take a shower…

The larvae develop through the tadpole stage in this state, emerging as fully developed (2 cm long) toads.  Given that the egg-diameter for this species is around 6.4 to 6.6 mm, their volume about triples while under mom’s skin.  Unfortunately, I fear that no amount of math is going to adequately translate what this must feel like, so here’s a video to really get that dry-heaving supercharged:

Supermom #3 – Sea Louse

The word “lice” tends to conjure up some pretty visceral reactions and for good reason.  Unlike other parasites that do you the courtesy of killing you with malaria, lice prefer to target your self-esteem.  They are notorious for striking at early childhood, relegating Little Johnny Head Lice to be the subject of mockery for years to come.  And once lice get hopped up on shame-flavored blood there’s no stopping them.  It’s only a matter of time before they start chasing that high and up the ante by living on our genitals, staging yet another dignity assassination during your adolescence.

Its size is inversely proportional to its hate

Hold on.  Am I the only one who sees this?  Is that little fucker SMILING at us?

I phrased the introduction with a spiteful tone because, unlike the other two creatures above, it is hard to conjure empathy for a louse and its reproductive plight.  Now we can rejoice guilt-free at how much it sucks to be a female sea louse.

The female sea louse is kind of the Bridget Jones of the animal kingdom.  Plagued by low self-esteem and the deafening tick of their biological clock, they can pretty much get talked into anything to land a man.  The male sea louse, a.k.a. the Sea Lothario, tracks the scent of her desperation and drops one of his signature pick-up lines:

Swept up in the euphoria of making her friends endure a bridesmaid dress as gaudy as the last 18 she was forced to wear, she agrees to join him in his burrow.  Upon entering she’s greeted with the 25 or more other sea lice he’s also talked down there, each thinking this is probably just an elaborate premise for a dating reality show.  It could be if the show was “Who Wants To Get Plowed By A Uncaring Sea Louse?”.

Once the babies are ready to be born, the sea louse retires to a quiet corner of the burrow, turns on some soothing new age music, and prepares to have her babies gently chew through her sternum.  They literally make their way out to the world by eating her from the inside out.  I don’t usually put much credence in the notions of Intelligent Design, but you could make a compelling argument that God hates lice as much as we do.

Ian Cheesman is wishing he had more time to ensure no opportunities for ejaculate humor were missed here, but he’s too busy finishing up his stage notes for “Jizz!: The Musical” debuting on scenicanemia.com.

True to my media roots, this week I vacilated between writing about sex or violence.  Headlines highlighting either were in abundance.  It was almost as if The Joker’s nefarious scheme to free all the inmates of Arkham Asylum was partially thwarted by Batman, allowing only the "bloodlust" and "pervert" wings to escape. 

The deviants were off to an early lead.  One inmate managed to trek all the way to Australia, rise in prominence as a litigator, and use the platform to motion the country’s Fair Trade Council to purchase a dildo for one of its ministers.  He justified these government funds by suggesting she would "stop screwing with the people of Strathfield and screw herself instead". 

Still, the carnage unleashed by the psychopaths was even more creative and ultimately won my affections.  Don’t let that deflate you, sex offenders.  Every day is a fresh opportunity to taint, degrade, and violate the world, as my mother used to say.

Did you clean your room, or does someone need another cockspanking?

Blood On The Ethernet
This week the streets of Florida got 0.03% little less bizarre when William "Srs Bzns" Cruz was sentenced to 30 years in jail.  His eruption of violence could have been a scene right out of Boyz N Tha Hood, if Compton was just a chatroom on Latinchat.com.

Cruz frequented the Cuba1 chatroom, along with chatters "El Habanero” (Havana Man), ”La Gata Fiera” (The Raging Cat) and ”Pollos Muertos Bailan Sobre Mi Cabeza, Pero No Me Gusta” (Dead Chickens Dance On My Head, But I Don’t Like It).   Cruz was known as "Cubano35" (which, if my 3 years of high school spanish serve me, translates to "I’m Probably Going To Shoot One Of You In The Face 35").  Cruz demonstrated general animosity towards the group, but was particularly enraged by Yanko Diaz.  Diaz was known as "Latengoparada", a phrase indicating his sexual arousal, which should help frame the maturity of the chatroom’s discourse.

The in-fighting escalated to a challenge to meet at a dimly lit corner of a closed superstore parking lot.  Diaz’s survival instincts clearly lacked the same level of arousal that his penis did.  He was shot in the left thumb, right wrist and buttocks, indicating he was genuinely trying to cover his ass.  Doughboy would have never gone out like that.

Two Sophomore Enter, One Sophomore Leave
A Dallas high school has instituted a bold new policy that will revolutionize disciplinary techniques.  The new regime directs students to collaborate on creative solutions to their conflicts, with the provision that they do so inside the specified metal cage and honor standard tapout rules .  They’re not savages, after all.

Pictured: Not savagery

Of course those pencil-pushers in the school district office didn’t appreciate using  Thunderdome as homeroom.  They uncovered it during an investigation on grade-tampering for student athletes, which is like a cop pulling over someone with a busted tail-light and realizing they’re trafficking illegal immigrant sex offenders with heroin balloons in their ass.  Oddly enough, it was the school’s request to the district to update their school mascot that raised some suspicions of an expanding alpha-dog culture:

It’s furry humor without the furry joke.  My humor has LEVELS.
 

A middle school counselor in the district said the culture at South Oak Cliff High, where many teachers are alums and have relatives in their classrooms, kept anyone from speaking out.  For those not reading between the lines, he just basically accused an entire educational institution of inbreeding.

Fore By Fore
Golf is awesome.  I used to think it was just a forum for doughy white men vying for promotions, using 18 holes to accomplish what a 3 minute blowjob under the CEO’s desk would achieve.  Courtesy of Linda Pearce, I now know it is so much more.

Pearce told witnesses she was going to run over Verma Boylan while carousing outside the country club’s bar.  Apparently Pearce was known for speaking in metaphor and this didn’t raise any red flags.  She then hopped in her golf cart, ran down Boylan and dragged her underneath the cart about 15 feet, because Pearce valued integrity as much as retribution.  Upon reflection, Pearce’s friends admitted that her choice of golf cart should have been cause for concern:

I’d like to think Pearce’s motviation was an elaborate tale of bitter lies and vicious betrayals, the kind of thing that Kill Bill character prologues are made of.  However, since there’s little evidence that her 56 year old victim was ever a member of either the Crazy 88 or Deadly Vipers Assassination Squad, it’s more likely that Pearce was just batshit insane.

Fearing lawsuits, the country club took drastic preventative measures:

Ian Cheesman may have inadvertently photoshopped his dream vehicle above.  The only thing it lacks is a hood large enough to support a bikini-clad slut and an airbrushed scenicanemia.com logo.

Check out more articles from Ian and other Atom bloggers right here.

In our previous chapter we explored the lengths people will go to off themselves for a taste of the forbidden.  In this round we…just keep doing that.

Fugu
Of all the culinary timebombs out there, few are more celebrated than fugu.  Its mention in this category won’t surprise many, but seeming commonplace doesn’t lessen its lethality.  Until the day comes we see parents packing fugu for their kids’ lunches, you can still safely assume it is not to be trifled with.

The poison generated in the puffer fish is estimated at 1,200 times the strength of cyanide.  That makes it the second most poisonous vertebrate in the world, only slightly lagging behind the syringe-backed herpes frog:

It is easily identified by the telltale black/lime-green coloration, as well as the prominent cold sores around its mouth

The chefs that prepare it are specially licensed to do so, as even a drop of the toxin from the liver or ovaries contaminating the meat will be lethal.  Their training culminates in a final exam where they prepare the dish for themselves to consume, which brings new gravity to the notion of pass/fail.

The poison is called tetrodotoxin, which is a neurotoxin that paralyzes its victims while they are still conscious.  That means as your throat closes and your lungs deflate you won’t be able to remind your fellow diners not to tip the chef.  Still, you can hardly fault the chef for your decisions.  You’ve got no one to blame but yourself, unless of course you were unwittingly involved in Ashton Kutcher’s latest TV concept:

Dozens of people die every year from ill-prepared fugu.  The only way to be sure that you are safe is to eat farmed puffer fish, as that environment doesn’t allow them to take in the bacteria needed to create the toxin.  This option is very popular among people who enjoy semi-raw thrills like skydiving simulators or receiving half of a handjob.

BLOOD CLAMS

Blood clams are also known as blood ark clams.  The reference to blood is derived from their blood red color, not the fact that they are so hepatitis-ridden that your liver bleeds at their mere mention.  I don’t know where the “ark” comes from, but based on their reputation I have a theory:

Shellfish are Mother Nature’s little agents of retribution.  As filter feeders they basically accumulate and serve us back the foulness that we dump into their environment.  Worse, at times they can harbor toxins that no reasonable amount of cooking will destroy.  That’s why it is critical to heed health authorities and government officials when they urge you to avoid them.

Unless you live in Shanghai and you want blood clams.  Apparently then you can do whatever the fuck you want.

There has been a government ban on the sale of blood clams since 1988, due to an outbreak of hepatitis that affected 310,000 with an uncertain death toll.  The economic cost of that disaster was totaled at a staggering 1 billion yuan.  The citizens of Shanghai have since commemorated that dark period with their annual festival:

The preferred preparation of these clams is to dip them briefly in boiling water and eat them with sauce.  Even if the sauce was penicillin-based, it wouldn’t kill the viruses, let along typhoid and dysentery, that lurk within.  All the boiling water can realistically accomplish is piss the pathogens off enough to come at you with a case of violent superdiarrhea prior to destroying you.

False Morel

A quick perusal of any wilderness safety guide will tell you in no uncertain terms that mushrooms are very seldom your friends.  This has to be explicitly spelled out because humanity has an inexplicable love affair with these turd blossoms.

Nature hint #1: If it looks like a cerebrum glazed in fecal matter, don’t eat it

The Scandavian false morel mushroom represents the ultimate in culinary audacity.  In order to “safely” consume this delicacy, here are the instructions for preparation:

1. Boil and rinse under a ventilation hood.  Open all windows as well.  The fumes rising from the pot are toxic.
2. Cut the whole mushrooms after boiling into 2 or 4 pieces.  Handle while wearing gloves.  Wash your hands afterward regardless
3. Boil the mushrooms AGAIN.  Discard the cooking water, as it is also potentially lethal.
4. Rinse the mushrooms again and prepare for consumption
5. Shake your fist at the sky and taunt God for his feeble attempt to kill you

There are regulations for the disposal of nuclear waste that are less comprehensive than this.

The false morel is prepared with wilted greens in an arsenic vinaigrette

Even after all of these extensive measures are in place, not all of the toxin, gyromitrin, is removed.  Worse, it is considered a cumulative carcinogen, which means even after it fails to kill you, it remains in your system WAITING to kill you.  Does that sort of tenacity sound familar?

On second thought, I’m not really all that hungry…

Ian Cheesman is beginning to understand the appeal of wholy unnatural foods like velveeta.  For more humor and/or cheese product, check out scenicanemia.com.

We all know that food inherently carries some risks.  We know this because many of our forebears showed great diligence in getting killed by it.  Sometimes it was a toxin lurking in an untested mushroom cap, but more often our food came equipped with giant fucking teeth and refused to acknowledge how hungry we were.

Thankfully time and technology advanced.  We passed along which plants to avoid and developed weaponry that could shoot through kevlar-armored bears.  Not a minute too soon, actually:

We no longer worried about our food killing us, leaving plenty of time to fret about terrorism, global warming and erectile dysfunction.  In short, we missed worrying about food.

Despite the risk, some folks just can’t get over the thrill of a given meal possibly being their last.  If you too are a fan of your sustenance potentially destroying you, these foods may be right up your alley.  I recommend you try them with the Irony Dipping Sauce.

San Nak Ji

We’re modern people in a fast-paced world.  If we’re lucky enough to find time to eat, we don’t have time for luxuries like cooking or waiting for the animal to die.  In fact, we believe no meal is complete without catching that last flicker of resentment in its eye that lets you know you’re asshole royalty.  The Korean dish san nak ji covers all that ground and goes the extra mile to tempt homicide. 

San nak ji is a healthy helping of delicately hacked up live octopus.

Allow me to present my cultural insensitivity when I say "Oh hell no."

Even after getting the Texas Chainsaw Massacre treatment, the octopus’ nervous system is able to maintain frenzied twitching and a vague sense that it has been wronged.  The tentacle cuttings to quickly organize a coup d’etat, mobilizing forces to choke the diner internally.  The only way to prevent suction cups latching inside the throat is to thoroughly pulverize while chewing, but purists/sadists maintain the squirming sensation is part of the draw. 

There are an average of 6 deaths due to choking courtesy of san nak ji annually in South Korea.  That number rises appreciably if any of the octopi happen to watch Braveheart prior to being served.

Yes, that is the same Braveheart gag in consecutive weeks.  Goddamn, I love that movie.

Ackee

The ackee fruit is a staple in Jamaica, best known for its inclusion in the national delicacy ackee and salted fish.  It is secondarily known for causing a vomiting sickness so godawful medical science has named it after the country itself.  Considering the number of tourists in England presented with blood sausage annually, it really says something that Jamaica’s hurling earned special nomenclature.

I don’t mind the taste, I just hate getting scabs stuck in my teeth

The ackee fruit is only dangerous if you happen to consume it when it is underripe.  Or overripe.  Or if you happen to eat any flesh not immediately surrounding seeds prepared properly.  Other than that, feel free to tear right into it with abandon.

The Ackee Extraction Team Is understandably well funded

The predominate number of ackee poisoning fatalities are in children. They are less prone to shun the immature fruit, either due to inexperience or the ackee’s strangely alluring appearance when underripe:

The statistics show approximately 1 in 1,000 people in the Caribbean develop ackee poisoning every year and it is linked with the deaths of multiple groups of children internationally.  Government officials were ready to declare this fruit a scourge, right up until someone pointed out its export makes $13 million annually.  They opted instead to redirect their efforts into PR:

Ian Cheesman will bring you part 2 after part 1, occasionally after part 4, but never after part 3.  That would be ludicrous.  You can find more writing that induces vomiting at scenicanemia.com.

Look at you.  Just sitting there blithely skimming web comedy without a care in the world.  Maybe you’ve come here for a brief respite or to ogle my rugged, sexy features (most find them reminiscent of a young Sean Connery and Lurch from the Addams Family).  And all the while you’ve chosen to ignore the fate that is bearing down on you like bloodthirsty bullet-train.

The Monkey* Uprising is upon us.

Chimps demonstrate complex behaviors like contemplation and face-eating

Somewhere along the line we decided to reward our closest genetic relatives with being our hapless playthings.  We were so intrigued by their sophisticated social structure and demonstrations of human-like emotion that we decided it would be a good idea to put them in funny clothes and make them pantomime for our amusement.  If only we had taught them sign language for “I’m tired of being humanity’s clownshoes” we might have had some warning.  Now it’s too late.

“Go ahead, motherfucker!  Call me Bonzo again and see what happens!”

So how worried should we be?  I put the Howfuckedometer reading at “Completely Buggered”.  Chimpanzees have five times our strength and demonstrate sophisticated cooperative hunting strategies.  Does that description sound familiar?  If you remember the unique horrors of Jurassic Park it should:

Velociraptors can smell fear, but when you piss yourself they don’t need to

It gets worse.  Chimpanzees possess much richer faculties for language than their reptilian counterparts and the ability to use tools, so it would probably be more akin to this:

“sshhskktt….Team Bravo, be advised that the meatsack is now entering Massacre Zone 3, over..sshhsskktt“

I don’t have much advice to protect you in the dark days ahead.  Only move under cover of night.  Don’t carry any bananas or plantains on your person.  If captured, for the love of God don’t provide coordinates of the sewer dwellings mankind has retreated to, no matter how fiercely they bludgeon you with your own femur.

* Ian Cheesman is fully aware that a chimpanzee is technically an ape and not a monkey.  It’s called creative license, you armchair anthropologist.  For further lessons on primates, check the academic stronghold that is internetsensation.com.

Every week here I strive to bring you the freshest in internet comedy (read: photoshopping penises on things).  I do this because I am an artist and not because atom.com has my family held captive in a dank basement somewhere.  I am compelled only by the muse to create, not the imminent threat that if I type under 50 m.p.h. my loved ones will all explode.

help me!

Just knowing you’re amused is thanks enough.

Why haven’t you called the FBI, you bag of dicks?

While my blogging is a tremendous gift to the world, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had yet more genius to give.  Seeking answers and guidance, I turned to my television.  So it was at 2:07 a.m., just moments after the central conflict in Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper was revealed, I saw an ad for the Art Instruction Schools.  It told me I was only one haphazard scribble away from a $250K scholarship to the most elite institutions of doodling in America.  I quickly ordered my free art test and prepared the application below.

You must be exhausted plowing through interminable applications, each less inspired than the last. I’m guessing this is what your average application looks like:

Now that I’m applying to your institute those days are behind you.  Prepare to get kicked right in your art-balls.

I call it “Dogbear the Pirate”, a perfect hybrid of all three samples above.  You see, unlike the applicants that obediently draw exactly what you’ve specified (i.e. morons), I have seen through your ruse.  Great art doesn’t follow rules. And I’m not even done shitting on your guidelines yet!

I could probably stop here, having already aced your first test, but I’m planning on winning at least 8 scholarships.  Here’s a piece I’ve entitled “Graaaaarrgh”:

As you can see, I’m not afraid to get political and edgy with my work.  I say to hell with anti-war sentiments and arbiters of when dinosaurs supposedly did and did not exist.  Of course, not everything I produce is confrontational.  Sometimes I opt for subversiveness and toying with the medium, as shown with my attached flip-book titled “Just A Guy Waving And Nothing Else”:

Hell, in some cases, I simply abandon the medium altogether and make the canvas the art:

By now you’ve hopefully ascertained my art cannot be contained in traditional bounds, doesn’t shy from controversy, and reflects an exquisite mastery of composition and form.  If not, I’ve crammed all of that into one oil painting I have entitled “Subtlety”:

This work is based around the grandest tenet of high art – it should be terribly offensive to Christians.  Piss Christ sets the bar pretty high, so I really had to step it up.  I figure if the sign of the beast and morning after pill don’t clinch it, the Jonas Brothers cleavage tattoo will lock it up.  The Hitler mustache and burning crosses were just a little offensiveness gravy ladeled over the top for good measure.

Gentlemen and lesbians, thank you for your time.  I look forward to the mere formality of my schooling so that I can join your panel of highly skilled dream crushers.  As a final offering, I have provided a self-portrait for your enjoyment.

Ian Cheesman is eagerly awaiting the Art Institute’s reply.  The rest of my gallery can be found at internetsensation.com.

Some things just naturally go together – peanut butter and chocolate, rock music and cocaine, yardwork and cocaine, or, in very particular circumstances, peanut butter and cocaine.  We may not be able to identify what renders certain pairings so harmonious, yet it is evident to all sentient beings how awesome this is:

Hey, Bruckheimer – If this doesn’t end up in your next movie we’re not talking anymore

Despite what the harmony-loving peaceniks might say, guns are likewise an ideal companion to just about everything.  Just look at Bruce Willis.  Take an actor with a receding hairline and limited prospects from the cheesy romantic dramedy Moonlighting, add a gun and suddenly you’ve got John Motherfucking McClane.

The Willis Theorem

Still not convinced?  Allow me to demonstrate how guns, mankind’s deadliest penis extension, have an uncanny way of making everything better.

How To Measure Lethality

While this has zero utility as a gun, there is no disputing that this ruler may well be powerful enough to make math cool in way it hasn’t been since Pythagoras was on the scene.

“Life ain’t nuthin but hypotenuses and money”

I suppose it could be used for stabbing in a pinch.  Wait, hold this blog for a moment…I think I may have just revolutionized modern warfare…

Point And Click (Sans Fatality)

As novel and practical as this might be in the field, the risk of carrying a camera that could be mistaken for a gun is probably too great a risk for most.  On the other hand, cameras are notoriously flimsy for pistol whipping people who jump into frame uninvited.  I’m torn.

N.R.A. Approved Golfing

Usually when golfers shout “Fore!” it’s to signal “Watch your head!” rather than “BOOM! HEADSHOT!”.  Though these appear to be the brainchild of engineers working for Jackass, Inc. these are legitimately designed for golfers who lack the physical capacity to play traditionally.  Still, I question how long could any warm-blooded man geared with one could resist an impromptu round of skeet golfing.

Bad Pun About High Caliber Art Goes Here

Art should transcend rational thought and mingle with viewers’ souls.  Gun art takes things one step further by making all viewers consider that their souls might be hastily dispatched to the afterlife if someone bumps the installation.  This piece is like a portal directly into my nightmares, apart from the fact that this arachnid made of guns isn’t telling everyone I still pee the bed.

Which Is Docking Which?

For only $12 in app store cash, an iPod touch, some superglue and an acute psychotic break you too can become an assassin (bell tower or book repository not included).  The application calculates how to adjust for environmental factors that may affect your accuracy, but cannot stop the demons in your head goading you.

Even if this doesn’t look all that sophisticated, consider what the previous generation was like:

“Every time I miss a headshot on that dictator my goddamn music skips!”

Ian Cheesman would like to thank gizmodo.com for making research of insanity so simple.  I like them so much I’m not even going to link to internetsensation.com this week.  Ooops.

Check out more posts from Ian and other Atom bloggers here.

Barack Obama, politician and occasional messiah, has finally graduated from Almost President But Not Quite.  Expectations of his arrival have not only been sky-high among liberals whining “But I want my Change NOOWWW!” but by the current administration as well.  Recently Bush, after being apprised on the tumult in Gaza, commented “Oh fuck me…what now?  Isn’t that other guy president yet?!”

The people’s thirst for more Obama-related news prior to the inauguration was unquenchable and the media dutifully delivered it.  They just weren’t letting the reality of him not doing dick get in the way.

Breaking News: Obama Eats Lunch!

In a dramatic move that has pundits abuzz, Obama has deemed it necessary to eat a meal in the middle of the day.  Fox News doesn’t know what this “lunch” business is about, but they’re pretty sure it has something to do with Obama’s ties to Al Qaeda.

“Inside sources suggest he will metabolize this meal and possibly defecate the remainder.  Updates to follow”

In fairness, this article was really about Obama eating in public, which certainly would be noteworthy to those in view.  It’s also news to his followers that previously believed he subsisted on the fanciful dreams of children while frolicking in Rainbow Land among the unicorns.

Breaking News: The Unofficial Cognac

Of The Inauguration Is Here!

Corporate America knows there is no better way to honor Obama’s message of hope and change than to co-opt it for profit.  That’s why Henessey is proud to announce the completely unsanctioned and probably unwelcomed “Official” cognac to celebrate the inauguration.

“Smooth, yet bold.  Just like a certain president-elect who won’t return our calls.”

My elite team of booze historians informed me that no cognac, Henessey or otherwise, has ever chosen a presidential candidate to associate themselves with.  I don’t know if that means Obama should be honored or if this is part of a clandestine conspiracy to have America equate Barack to SNL’s “Ladies Man”:

“Can I offer you some Courvoisier, Speaker Pelosi?”

Breaking News: Obama Has Opinion On Sports!
Until January 20th, 2009, Obama barely has the executive power to upgrade his cable tv service, let alone affect U.S. policy.  That hasn’t stopped him from sounding off on critical matters, such as better justifying college football rankings. In his words, “If I’m Utah, if I’m USC, or if I’m Texas, I may still have some quibbles. And you’ve heard my pitch. That’s why we need a playoff,” he said.

“What are you pussies in Florida afraid of anyway?”

In Obama’s defense, the college presidents’ best argument against a playoff system is “it would take the student-athletes away from their studies for an extended period.”  The time to be concerned with Mongo Slaughterson’s academics was probably before you lowered the SAT admission criteria for him and sent him off to the contusion factory.

Breaking News: Being President Is HARD!
As if a crumbling economy and fractured war efforts weren’t enough to haunt Obama, CNN has concerns that unsightly crows feet could likewise plague him in the near future.

Fearing Biden’s wandering eye, President Obama became the first leader of the free world to consider botox injections.

Rapid aging is commonplace with the stressful nature of this job.  To combat this phenomenon doctors prescribe adequate rest and regular exercise, but advise against a daily regiment of sloppy hummers from admiring junior staffers.   Despite blowjobs kicking the crap out of any multivitamin, that rejuvenation method hasn’t worked out well for Democrats historically.

Breaking News: A Black President Is Historically Relevant!
Vice President Cheney recently met with CNN news during a brief respite from taunting war orphans and choking endangered species.  In a show of graciousness that could only be described as offputting, Cheney begrudgingly acknowledged that a America’s first African-American president could be construed as history.

Don’t look directly into the smirk.  That’s how he steals your soul.

This unexpected praise, or restatement of the patently obvious, floored Blitzer.  At least that’s what Cheney told authorities later when found hunkering over the corpse, greedily devouring Blitzer’s heart.  He hates to see good meat go to waste, you see.

Ian Cheesman is astounded by how well Clinton-era BJ humor still works.  It’s a legacy all humorists cherish – thanks, Bill.  For more jokes about orally servicing world leaders, please visit internetsensation.com.

While I have enjoyed skewering Obama over the election season, I must admit it’s not my favorite thing to do.  The problem with making fun of politicians is that partisanship always limits how many people you can offend with it.  As a professional smart ass, I demand much more of myself.  Luckily, so much wacky shit happened in the world of religion in the last week that I’m pretty certain I’ll be able to conjure some hate from all of you.  A boy can dream, right?

Never give up hope!
 

Fun With Fatwas
Salman Rushdie announced last week that he was preparing to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the fatwa issued for his death for the sacrilegious content of his novel The Satanic Verses.  For the uninitiated, a fatwa is an official ruling in Islam, usually issued by religious scholars wishing to clarify why evils like the polio vaccine, unclothed sex, and pokemon are to be scorned.  Polio-vaccinated Muslim pokemon having unclothed sex is also forbidden by extension, so make sure they’re wearing socks or some form of lingerie.
 

Not shown – tiny pokebandages on the inoculation site.  I also fuzzed out their genitals.
 

He indicated he wouldn’t be making a big deal celebrating the anniversary, opting for a quiet dinner with friends in his secret underground bunker at an undisclosed time.

Papal Infallibility Goes Digital
Since the Catholic church’s embrace of Galileo’s heliocentric model of our universe in 1992, it can’t get enough of this crazy "science" stuff.  This has led to adopting the technology to create a YouTube channel for Pope Benedict XVI (username: lonelypope16). In his first address he took a moment to warn people of the social dangers of immersion in online media in a vlog entitled "Irony".

Though it hasn’t gone public yet, atom.com has inserted a mole into the Vatican (under the alias Cardinal Shenanigans) that has leaked the Pope’s forthcoming Facebook page:
 

Caught Red-Hoofed
One of Nigeria’s largest newspapers recently published a story about a car theft intercepted by their police force.  Unfortunately, the crime fighters’ diligence was only partially repaid, as one of the two suspects was able to escape by transforming into a goat.

Though this is just a re-enactment, the crime could have happened just like this
 

This may sound a bit far-fetched, but the belief of black magic is common in more remote, rural areas of Nigeria.  It doesn’t help that goats are notorious for gang violence in the region as well.

If brought up on charges, the goat will be tried in a local court of law by a jury of his peers:

It’s worse than you think – these are the goats that were too stupid to get out of jury duty
 

Scandalous Sex Wasn’t The Scandal
Say what you will about Ted Haggard’s legacy, he certainly set the bar high for Christian sex scandals.  These days when the media hears about a new megachurch sex scandal they usually come to find out it’s just a report that Ted actually had a good deal more gay sex than was previously alleged.  

Still, even in the wake of Ted’s sexual aftershocks, one runner-up story did emerge last week. A pastor in the Church of Sweden was given a disciplinary warning for his "unacceptable lifestyle" when an internal investigation revealed unsavory details of a recent incident.  The incident in question involved the pastor inviting a man over to join he and his wife (also a pastor) for dinner followed by a sauna threesome (or, as the Swedes call it, "dessert").  However, the chlorinated sex chowder was not the cause for concern.  The church took offense at the male pastor slamming his wife’s head into the wall when he discovered her deleting pictures of the incident from their digital camera.

The church expressed regret for the pastor’s actions, but moreso for being denied frothy three-way imagery.

Ian Cheesman makes apostasy even more fun over at www.internetsensation.com, just in case you haven’t had your fill.