Thur-Man: The hero.

BACKSTORY
I may have named Thur-Man incorrectly; I can't remember what James, Donna, and I decided altogether to name him.
He essentially is an American champion of convenience. He eschews exercise, critical thinking, reading, and rolling over to the television, preferring to use his custom headset to interact with his preferred mode of entertainment.

But he is not the whole being. Thur-man is only half of the picture. Thur-man is the outward beast, derided by his inner infant; a creature of sloth, and from time to time, very low-level wrath. If strong irritability could be classified as wrath. The inner infant is Thurman, the face on his belly who controls him like a pawn, enslaving him to his every whim, controlling his blood sugar and contorting what's left of his spine into a scoliotic nightmare like a telekinetic would bend a spoon. The man who's head sits atop this pile of flesh was given the name Ron L. Hubdonald as a child. He once lived a blissfully mediocre lifestyle, working at a Zenith television factory, before gamma rays possessed his mind and drove him to construct the super-zero you see before you; part man-boy, part time-saving widget of convenience. Thur-man represents, as a super-zero, the absolute inverse of the apex of human evolution. He is a pizzone revolution. I like to think of this project as a silly little
fun poke at the overly-technological establishment. I like to think that Thur-man
will belch their techno-silico-status-quo back in their faces.

CONCEPTION TO REALIZATION
We looked up "Beer Belly", "Thurman Murman", and "Tank Wheelchair" on images.google.com, and then paired these images all together by clicking "place"
from the menu. We would put those images together, and crop them as if cutting
them deftly from a magazine, using Photoshop's "magnetic lasso". Then, if need be,
I went in and used the eraser to clean up the edges to get them a bit smoother looking.
Then, we took the prosthetic arm image from google as well. Lassoed that with
the polygonal lasso tool. Once we had it on it's own layer, we copied and pasted it, and
then free-transformed it until we had a mirror image of it, which we could use as
an arm on either side. There wasn't too much mystery in this whole process. I felt
like we all had the process down pat. I suggested that we smudge the boy's face into
the beer-gut of the man, and thus the humanoid-mutant-robo-slob was born, to answer
to complete and absolute impulsiveness.