Armageddon Couch Review

Something was not right when I went to sit on couch.  It had been replaced by an Armageddon Couch, from Couches of Doom (tm).  How the Couches of Doom movers managed to get in here, take my couch, and replace it with the Armageddon Couch I have no idea, but there it was.  They didn't leave any notes or instructions, but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to review it -- unless this is just something that Couches of Doom does, perhaps?  If it is, I don't think much of their business model.  Not only are they giving their product away and making no profit, they're also breaking and entering, and may go to jail if they try this with someone who is not enslaved to the Acme Reviewing Company.

Armageddon Couch

Pros:
-Cushy, overstuffed piece of furniture.
-Stain-resistant, bedbug-resistant, nuclearholocaust-resistant.
-Cats would find themselves unintentionally de-clawed if they tried to use this sucker as a scratching post.

Cons:
-Owning something that is specifically engineered to last longer than you are is a constant reminder of one's mortality.  (This may be a "pro" for the Carpe Diem type of personality.)
-Impossible to move.  You think that couch you've had since college was difficult to get down a flight of dorm steps with the help of a friend or two lured by the promise of free pizza?  Try moving something that weighs more than the rest of my house combined and is so slick you can't even sit down quickly for fear of sliding off into the coffee table, let alone get a grip on it!
-Who the heck needs a couch that can survive a nuclear explosion?  "Oh, wow, I can sleep soundly tonight: if a nuclear bomb goes off, at least my skeleton can lay on this ridiculous sofa for eternity.  What a great investment -- it's like an open-faced coffin you get to use before you die, too!"

Verdict:
I give this Armageddon Couch two hearty mushroom clouds up.  Despite its unnecessariness, lack of maneuverability, and philosophical deadweight, the product certainly lives up to its description and claims.  ...Now, would you please come back and take it away, Couches of Doom movers?  Or at least shift it back three inches.  I'm banging my shins against the coffee table every time I get on or off.

(And for those of you who are eagerly following the race, yes, the slugs are still going.)