There is nothing you possess that it cannot destroy

So The New Yorker had a contest in which readers were invited to submit art re-imagining cover boy Eustace Tilley, shown below in his original incarnation:



And wouldn't you know, someone came up with this. Which is funny and cool but also makes you want to die a little inside. (This, on the other hand, is a more guilt-free pleasure. Superflat, baby.)