Yazmany Arboleda performed a valuable service by claiming the domain name The Assassination of Barack Obama, thus preventing it from falling into the hands of incompetent top-hatted Neo-Nazis. Unfortunately, instead of filling the site with placeholder ads, Arboleda uses it to house his "provocative" artwork, which consists of zany gimmicks like a two-room-long Obama schlong. Anyone who has ever seen a modern art exhibit will recognize Arboleda's shock-value tactics: The fake racism, the lame pop/corporate-culture references (a picture of Obama's children bears the Imus-scandal caption "nappy headed hos," Gap and Budweiser logos appear for some retarded ironic reason), the no-shit Big Statement (media coverage is like assassination -- of someone's character!). Of course, Internet commenters haven't gone to any galleries, or familiarized themselves with Arboleda's dated touchstones and labyrinthine artist's statement, or done anything lately other than express frothing rage regarding topics about which they know almost nothing and don't care to learn more. So instead of complaining that Arboleda's work is glaringly obvious and mundanely executed, they're furious because "Oh My God, this guy with a foreign name wants to kill the nice man from the infomercial!" This whole saga illustrates Something Awful's slogan in action, demonstrating how the Internet can make something stupid even stupider.

– Andrew "Garbage Day" Miller

More Awful Link of the Day

This Week on Something Awful...

  • Get In The God Dang Weight Room, Johnny Manziel!

    Get In The God Dang Weight Room, Johnny Manziel!

    Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.

  • Helping Your Real Friends Move

    Helping Your Real Friends Move

    A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.

Copyright ©2014 Rich "Lowtax" Kyanka & Something Awful LLC.