The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #52
Submit the worst possible caption for this week's New Yorker cartoon. Click here for last week's results. Click here for an introduction and "rules" to this contest. Click here for amplification of those rules. Click here for contest index.
"Eek! There's a rowboat on my belly!"
Results after the jump
"You know, I kind of liked it when the park hosted Christo's 'Gates', but I'm not so sure about this Damien Hirst installation." Tim C.
"Isn't it ironic that, just the other day, you told me there were no such things as whales." Harry
“Holy crap, what a piss-poor drawing I’m in! I’m not even sure who’s supposed to be talking! Am I supposed to be the whale? Sure! I’m the whale! And I’m – let’s see – either frolicking upside-downlike or, tragically, something has sliced deep into my forehead and my scalp is flap-flap-flapping in the breeze!
“Just kidding! Had that happened, I wouldn’t be able to talk! I’d be dead! Oooo, turns out I’m a funny whale! Ha-ha! And look! There seems to be a bridge full of people crossing from my anus to my chin! Doesn’t exactly look like the artist – Mumfold? Leverford? Whatever, as long as they spell it correctly on the check, am I right, buddy? – is a master of composition. I’m sure he was counting on me, The Big Upside-Down Funny Whale, to say something (Something Funny!) that would distract you from his shortcomings.
“Well, tough cookies, Sherlock, I’m a-callin’ you out! I’ve seen fish-shit more visually cohesive than your ‘art.’ You ain’t foolin’ nobody. Just ask those... people(?) in the rowboat – that boxy-mutant dude in the jumpsuit and the chick with the portfolio and the shamrock shake. We’re on to you, Covemfred! It’s not what you can do, it’s who you know, and we get it: The joke’s on us.” J