Oops, did I spoil the cartoon? For Illustration Friday: propagate is the challenge. And chickens do that.
This is an easy idea to tinker with, if you’re good with words. The ending to Which came first, could be anything, and I think I’ve come up with half a dozen gags over the years. But politics has been a big part of my life this last year, working for Slate, so these hens have that on their mind, too.
I’ve been thinking recently about New Yorker cartoons vs Editorial cartoons – which I’m spending most of my time doing? now. New Yorker cartoons are easy, so easy that anyone can do it, and they can and do, with the little caption contests. I haven’t looked at the contests in years, but there are many clever entries, I’m sure.
“But I can’t draw,” they sigh. That’s what she said.
That’s what I said. I wanted to write them, not draw them, but I sent ideas to a couple of New Yorker guys, they said they didn’t buy gags, and I gave up on just writing right away. I’d have to learn to draw. Sigh.
First of all, he is so not my type. He should be, blond and blue-eyed, fit, with a nice balanced body, okay hair. I mean, look at my 3-year long and counting crush on Derek Hough, right? But Jake, no. It’s all I can do to muster up even finding a photo of Jake to post here…
They alternate between grown-up situations, like adultery (or thinking about it, as Jimmy Carter would say), compromise in ethics or one’s goals, and life -changing decisions, and for the kiddies, after school specials, problems like who gets the solo, what is “really cool”, and how to come out to your father over and over and over. (Kurt is a great singer, bad actor. Everything he says is camp, flaming, and not believable. Especially when he tries to do the loving, fashion-whore son.)
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