an image of the executive painted as some ancient portrait of a religious savior, beams of light emitting from behind his head, holding various objects and symbols to signify his divinity. beneath him lay the bodies of the many his company has driven down into the dirt, the fathers with lungs full of coal from the mines, the sons worked to the bone in the factories, the wives forced to shame for the pleasure and the amusement of the divine executive. all housed within a hideously ugly ornate gold frame. the painting emanates a foul odor and radiates a red light. it beckons you, it speaks to you in an ancient evil gravel, a strange and rhythmic horror. it tells you to submit. just submit.