The truths revealed from the encounter with this cartoon drawing in an almost apocalyptic manner are bitter to one’s palates, besides the fact that several of the objects to be consumed or are consumed by the obese extraordinary being are full of sugar; and these truths, in plural, are bitter because it is this type of food and objects that are consuming the, what used to be, a human being, eating its subjectivity and freedom and leaving behind, from their behind, a mass of meat in irregular shape as a mathematician might have described this bodily schema: to start with, the typical procedure of buying a couch has changed, and, from the searching to find a perfect space for one’s body or bottom through catalogs or visits to showrooms with the almost everlasting dealing with the sales’ person, has become a pitiful fictional story because, as this picture corroborates, it is the couch that seeks for its body, a body which, as the figment of imagination divulges us, will assist in what the couch has not yet been able to possess despite the extravagant technological advancements in the field of furniture: that is a mouth: it is the only organ that it lacks so to expand its invading forces and occupy further territories. This body, most likely belonging to a man, although its gender has been accumulated partially by the couch, might experience the classical Freudian fantasy of returning into the mother’s womb and caught ecstatically by that Oceanic feeling of the Nirvana principle, anyway, this “man” has been fed without adopting its own hands because they are used, at least one of them, to hold the smartphone; the other electrical appliance, once upon a time in the forgotten past denominated as the king of all appliances, the grandiose then television, now a mere decorative object perhaps to assist in the geographical positioning of the couch within the square meters of the room just for the sake of the living room’s stereotypical arrangements, those arrangements marked by language at the past era of having visitors in the house and actually using the mouth for talking, “This is our living room,” “Yes I know, I am not an idiot, I can see the TV.” This type of living rooms where people used to approach each other’s body via the medium of speech should be situated in museum exhibitions, and children could heave through a virtual experience of forgotten items and paraphernalia of how bodies functioned on those times of the grandfather’s grandfather: nowadays, it could have been much better to label this space as something else, someone has to do it anyway, for living rooms have no blood relation with the verb living.
Never mind, back to the cartoon icon that we avoided in mentioning here as picture because the same word follows soon, so, in the same picture, once again as viewers of a peculiar phenomenon, as spectators hopefully and not as reflections of a mirror, we can admire the imposing symbols of various fast food chains, literally chains and metaphorically, on the walls of this living room. They are works of art- no doubt about it, because only the manipulative precision of a great artist could have been able to elevate manure into the status of “eatable shit.” The picture however is unable to depict the factor of smell and the different types of Pour Hommes or De Perfumes mingled with sweat, exuding from the irregular shaped body and habitually resting on every possible surface of the room: the very popular and possibly impolite, certainly politically incorrect question when there is a tete-a-tete of one’s nose with such smells, “What have you eaten,” or, “Have you eaten shit,” would have been perfect here, if we were experiencing this whole phenomenon from the place of the smeller and not from that of the viewer: but, at the current time and as far as what is known to us regarding scientific inventions, smelling a picture or a drawing through the smartphone’s screen has not been technologically achieved. Until the moment of the later technological discovery’s nobel price public announcement, the couch-man is doomed to remain unscented even by his own excrement.
