January 29, 2007

The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #85

Submit the worst possible caption for this New Yorker cartoon. Click here for details. Click here to see last week's winner.


"My wife! My best friend! My laptop! My copy of Entertainment Weekly! My alarm clock! My lamp! My bed table! I'm pretty sure the glasses are yours." —Francis

"I'm sorry. Double penetration sounded really hot in theory but in practice, it turned out to be--I don't know--a little gay." —nell

"I'm a burglar alarm salesman." —mypalmike

Honorable mention
"I know this was hard, but creating a living will was the right thing to do. Good luck with the treatments." —Dashiell

"You guys need to watch some HGTV if you think putting your bed this close to the door is a good idea." —J Warner

"I'm going to go back to work so I can masturbate to the more interesting three-way in my head." —Charles

"Well, *this* certainly isn't Narnia." —Tim C.

Posted by Daniel Radosh


"Just ignore me."

"Here's the deal: You steal my wireless - I bang your wife."

Well excuse me, but what did you expect? You type in keywords like "how to", "assemble" "devices" and then thrown in "explosion" and "ecstasy" and you're bound to get a visit from Homeland Security...

"Sorrry to interrupt, folks, but we have information that Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' has been broken up into pieces and that the lower portion is somewhere in the vicinity of this bedroom."

"I knew you've been screwing around with my laptop!"

"Remember, I'm not responsible for any itching or redness that may insue over the coming weeks. Oh, and happy anniversary to you both."

"Wait! Madam, the fate of the world depends on that vibrator!"

"I'm from the stripping serivce, I'm afraid the well hung fireman was out on a call, so they sent me, the well hung computer programmer. Now which one of you is Melinda?

"Honey, I have a confession to make. You're having an affair. And a very passionless one too, apparently."

Screw both of you! If I knew it was only gonna be cybersex, I wouldn't have traveled 300 fuckin' miles to get here!

"Oh crap. I'm in one of those unfunny financial advisor ads, aren't I?"

"I'm here to fix your warped nightstand."

You've got your dick in my box!

"Mom! You said you were okay with me being gay, so now you steal my man?! Oh, and what happened to the leftover pot roast, hmmmmm?"

Wadda mean, do I want to come again. I haven't even left.

I know this was hard, but creating a living will was the right thing to do. Good luck with the treatments.

"Hi. I'm here to see the guy hiding under the bed."

"My best friend! My best toenail clippers!"

"We've decided not to buy your house after all. How much for the red Buick in the driveway?"

"I'd like to finish the painting that's hanging above your bed."

"I told you it was a mistake to put the bed by the front door."

"I never knew you wore glasses, Bob."

"Damn flu. Hopefully my wife can join us next week."

"Is that the correct time?"

"I thought I heard the mirror on your ceiling fall."

"Really? Do you know where they moved to?"

"Dick, if you need gay porno to do it -- you're only fooling yourself."

"I'm the locksmith. Where are the cuffs?"

"You both look so fucking hot."

"It's 2 a.m., the elevator's out, I live 10 stories up and I tore my ACL playing handball. Would you mind scooching over?"

"Sorry, folks, but I waited as long as I could. Do either one of you know how I can unstick my Krazy Glue®'d hand?"

"Am I the only one that's aroused here?"

"You can't clip your toenails in The New Yorker!"

"Due to the ubiquity of suburban housing, I have entered the wrong domicile and did not realize my mistake until I opened this door."

"It's me. Yes, ME! I'm her daddy! Now please stop badgering her about it twice a week! I never wanted her to know the truth."

"Oh my God! You actually read The New Yorker?"

I can't believe it - I'm being cuckolded by Dick Cavett!

Oh, it's just the Merrill Lynch guy? Well, OK, then.

Wow you were right - that nighty does make you look fat.

"Mom, dad, you gotta help me! I took some really bad acid! It's making our living room sofa you're sitting on look like an ornate bed, and the side table - well, the nightstand looks about like usual, actually."

"Blah, blah, blah, Patriot Act"

"Hey, is that a New Yorker on your bed? Don't you find the cartoons really cliché these days?"

[side table... nightstand... damn. Note to self: Do not post to anti-caption contest while tripping on really bad acid.]

"You wouldn't believe the day I had! You guys want popcorn?"

"Come on, Louise! You know you're supposed to remove your feet BEFORE you get on the bed!"

"Anything in that briefcase for me, Steve? Like maybe an explanation for why you're in bed with my wife's sister's friend, Erlys?"

"Holy shit! Have you guys seen 'In Case of Emergency?' It really sucks! Do you know if you're neighbors are home, I'm trying to get the word out?"

"Yeah, so I have to go into the office, nothing to worry about but I will be gone until tomorrow. But Janice'll still be here and we can play badminton just as soon as I get back. I'm really sorry this is just the stupidest way to ruin a perfectly decent country weekend but that's what happens when you're Barbaro's veterinarian. Last time, though, I promise."

“Madam, wait! One evening, many years ago, I too was seated Indian-style next to my lover in bed, innocently clipping my toenails as he worked at his laptop. One of the clippings inadvertently flew his way and, as he typed, lodged itself under the letter ‘Q.’ He went after it with a pair of tweezers and, by accidentally grazing the power source, electrocuted himself and sent sparks flying. The ensuing conflagration claimed his life and left me covered with scar tissue from the neck down. O, fateful night! Since then I’ve roamed the Earth, relating my tale of woe and warning others whose situations may or may not eerily parallel mine own. Also, I’m selling insurance.”

"Aha! I wondered why you didn't return my e-mail that
said I was leaving work early. The both of you get the hell off of Polar Bowling and give me my laptop!"

The dishes are on fire and there's no more pizza left from last night.

Did someone request a change of tedium?

I always knew you had a thing for our cross- dressing yoga instructor, I just newer thought that you would take it this far.

That's brillliant!, a yoga instructor dressed in drag, now hold on while I get on my batgirl outfit and we can have a grand old time!

I'd like to stay, but your father's enormous legs intimidate me.

See you later,Dad, George Jr. needs my help.

How could you, dad, when this gets out I'll never win the whitehouse!

"Is that a MacBook Pro® on your lap or are you just happy to see me?"

"Can I sleep in here with you guys? I had that nightmare about disgruntled shareholders testifying before Congress again."

What the fuck are you doing in bed with my husband?

"Rehang the wall mount plasma TV yourself. I told you above the bed was a stupid place for it."

Honey, where the hell is the coatrack?

"Is this where the support group for men who are sexually attracted to briefcases and doorknobs, and the women that love them, meets? Ooh, nice briefcase."

"Just make sure that when I come home from work, I don't find yoga bare."

"For Christ's sake, Bill! How many times do I have to tell you? If you're going to borrow my inflatable girlfriend, you CAN NOT let her play with scissors!!

Just submit anything, Dennis. The rules don't mean a thing.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Wrong room."

"Can I use your phone? I got a flat.'

"Geez, Mom! Ya think you could take the time to close your legs before you yell 'come in'? I had enough nightmares about your twat when I was a kid, believe me."

"Hi, I'm from the Department of Going Door to Door to Warn Men that They're Cooking Their Testicles with their laptops. It's part of President Bush's compassionate conservatism."

"You guys need to watch some HGTV if you think putting your bed this close to the door is a good idea."


"Hi, folks. Sorry, I'm a little early. Anyhoo, I've got the papers for you to sign whenever you're ready. Looks like a refund this year."

"Okay, I'm off to work now. Thanks for letting me crash for the night. I'm hoping to work this out with Irene. She can't stay mad forever, right?"

"I don't usually make house calls, but I saw you scheduled a pap smear for tomorrow, and I just couldn't wait."

"Well..., if it isn't Edna Scissorsfoot in bed with Dexter the dork!"

"Alice, you have made a cuckold of me. I cannot stand another day with you and Timothy living openly as a couple under my own roof. I have a rope in this briefcase and am going to a bridge to hang myself. Good-day."

"Of course, when I say, 'You're both cocksuckers,' I'm using dual meanings. You, Kevin, are a metaphorical cocksucker since you commit degrading acts which disgust me, while you, Jenny, are an actual cocksucker since you do, in fact, suck cocks."

"I put that wax dummy of me wearing glasses in our bed a week ago but you've been so busy cutting your toenails and jabbering about John Mayer dating Jessica Simpson that you never even noticed. And you know what the saddest part to me is? That John Mayer is dating Jessica Simpson."

"I'm sorry. Double penetration sounded really hot in theory but in practice, it turned out to be--I don't know--a little gay."

"My wife! My best friend! My laptop! My copy of Entertainment Weekly! My alarm clock! My lamp! My bed table! I'm pretty sure the glasses are yours."

I think it's time for us to sit down and have a serious discussion about "Scrap-booking Night."

"Geeksquad, my ass!"

I'm going to go back to work so I can masturbate to the more interesting three-way in my head.

"Yeah, well that's sounds nice, but unless there's a leak in the ceiling you both have some further explaining to do."

"Does anybody have 2 nipples for a dime?"

"Sorry to interupt, but I'm with the drawing police, and I'm here to investigate that thing in your hand. Is it a flashlight, or a sextoy, or a part of your foot, or what?"

"Aw, crap. ...HON-EY!!! The outdoors just turned into somebody's bedroom again! I really think there's something wrong with this door."

"Ohm's the name. Ebenezer Ohm. I was walking by and I thought I heard you calling my name. But apparently you were just meditating. It is strange, though, that you would meditate by repeating the word 'webenezer' over and over."

"Honey, I'm ho...Who's she?"

"Time's up, pal. I'm here for her next batch of toenail clippings."

"Jeffrey, you bastard! Clipping coupons together was OUR special thing."

"I'm a burglar alarm salesman."

Well, if it insn't George H.W. Bush in bed with Monica Lewinsky while chatting with Nancy Pelosi.

"Jesus H. Christ! They told me the room would be empty! Sorry, folks, I'm just here to put a bible in the drawer. Hey, nice wife and laptop."

Can i vote for: "i'm a bugler alarm salesman"?

You might think inviting salesmen into your bedroom whilst clipping your toenails is strange. But the last house I was at had a toaster the size of a Land Rover.

Whew! You don't know what a relief it is to see you two here like this. You, mom, there with your scrapbooking and you, dad, there with your laptop there on your lap doing "the office thing" at home, wink, wink, right Dad. Careful there dad, you don't want to fry the old cazangas with the laptop there on top of them if you know what I mean. heh, heh. No, but here I was expecting to open the door and see you two in the most grotesque and erotic sexual position imaginable doing god knows what to each other sexually and then I'd be embarrassed and a little turned-on and then the whole Oedipus thing would start and I'd have to....

Now she's demanding that you come back and revive your act as John and Yoko look-a-likes.

"Hahaha. A middle aged couple in bed, and a businessman looking bewildered. Hahahahahahahhahaha."

"Oh, hello, Mrs. bin Laden. Daddy, am I supposed to send more, or fewer than 25,000 additional troops to their pointless deaths in Iraq?"

"I couldn't sleep with all the typing and clipping going on, so I'm going back to the office."

"A.C. Nielsen company. Why aren't you watching television?"

"Oh, Christ, honey. This is how you got that virus the last time."

Well again, I'm sorry about the mix-up between briefcases Mr. Wilson. Yes, go through it, you'll see all your files are there. And I assure you Ms. Plame the briefcase was in safe hands, there's no reason to worry about a leak.

Are you "Share a
Prostitute and WiFi Connection," room number 453? Angela?

"Hi. I'm the Jehovah's Witness you told to 'come back another time' earlier today. It's another time."

"Well, *this* certainly isn't Narnia."

"Hello. I'm the exiled finance minister of Nigeria. I've been writing and writing to you two for ages, begging for help, and I just figured you were too busy to do anything. But now I get here and it turns out, no, you're just too busy doing your nails and playing Solitaire. Typical. Just fucking typical."

"Hi. Um. I just told my parents I was gay, and the next thing I knew, I was emerging from your closet. Frankly, I never knew that that phrase actually had a literal, mystical connotation, so you'll forgive me if I seem a tad bewildered. Also, since I'm here, that nail polish is too pink for your skin tone. You're a winter, so you really want to look for something in a candy-apple or firetruck red. God, the signs were everywhere, weren't they?"

Jerry Kornwald, Google Rep. Now which one of you here was searching for "the meaning of life?"

"Hi. Is this the anti-caption contest? I'm one of the lightweights who only stops by when there is an obvious joke to be made."

"Barely Tuesday and there's already almost 100 entries? No way, I said - and yep, I shoulda known, it was you, mom and dad, all along, making up new names to junk up my anti-caption contest!"

"Hi. Do you folks know the fastest way to Penn Station? I'm really in a hurry."

"Jesus, dad, how fucking long are your legs, anyway?"

Hello, I'm one of narcissistic heavyweights who posts every week and therefore mistakenly believes everything I write is pure gold and totally original. Of course my fear of competition forces me to make fun of it, but no one will notice because all the other entrants are stupid. As you can see, I always use my real, full name and never submit captions under aliases because things like that matter so much, especially in contests which offer no prizes, you know? Now let's talk about you being incredibly under-insured.

"Hi, I'm Daniel Radosh. I've just flown all the way from the New Yorker offices to see you. I even had a three-hour stopover in Cleveland. Anyhoo, could you please limit your entries in the contest to just four? That way, I can judge each on its own merits. Plus, it makes you seem like less of a narcissistic heavyweight who posts every week and therefore mistakenly believes everything you write is pure gold and totally original. Also, my tie is a clip-on, and the obscenity here is ours."

(Christ, what an asshole!)

Mom, Dad, I learned to say "Christ, what an asshole" today. Thanks for sending me to college. G'night.

'Narcissistic heavyweights who's captions aren't really golden or original?' Christ....., I'm such an asshole!

Daniel Radosh, I know how to make your job easier. Just dismiss all captions signed by anyone named DAVID. (David, David W, Other Dave, David John, Davided, etc).

Now I know why my mother taught me to never sit, lay or eat on hotel bedspreads. Ugh.

"Sorry to barge into your bedroom, much like George W. Bush barged into Iraq, and with an even flimsier pretense. Will one of you please suck my dick?"

"Okay, Dave. I'm drawing the line here. You can eat my food, crap in my toilet, sleep in my bed and screw my wife till the cows come home...but you WILL NOT wear those faggoty glasses in my house!"

"blah blah blah Windows Vista."

"I'm here to tell you your only son has been killed in Baghdad."

"Got here as fast as I could, Jerry. You keep guarding your johnson with that laptop, and I'll beat Lorena with my briefcase until she drops those scissors."

I'm from the future. I've been sent to holo-record what happens in this room in the next fifty-seven minutes, to resolve a longstanding historical and religious controversy that will otherwise lead to mankind's final war of annihilation. Just pretend I'm not here.

"Okay, Rog. It's one thing that you've taken to sleeping in my bed and banging my wife whenever I'm away for my chemo treatments....but now you think you're just going to help yourself to my wireless connection, too?"

"Mom, Dad. Funny thing happened on the way back from my new job. I got stuck in this really big traffic jam, right? But I needed to go to the bathroom like crazy, right? So -- heh, heh, oh God -- so I just dropped my pants there in the car and took a giant crap right into my briefcase. Ha Ha Ha. Classic. Can you believe it?"

"I'm leaving you. Both of you."

"Folks, I'm with AP/Ipsos polling and I've got just one question: 'Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?' "

"I'm sure you two will be very happy together. Assuming, of course, Bob likes herpes and emotional con artists."

Now this is the way flying first class should be!

"Now that the majority of people no longer smoke, the world needs a suitable replacement cliché signifier for post-coital bliss. My intuition tells me that web surfing and/or meditation fill that void. Therefore I am compelled to inquire: you just fucked my wife didn't you?"

I have to go show up unexpectedly in another cartoon now. No offense, but I hope that one is a hell of a lot funnier than this one.

I am the ghost from anti caption future. You're being replaced by a ridiculous badly drawn, unfunny, scenario. The side tables can stay.

"What the... Mom, where are your legs?!? Which brings me to the reason I stopped by. Pop, can I borrow twenty grand to settle up with my coke dealer?"

"Aha! So you're the jackass who's been hacking my Man-Boy Love account."

There are just way too many things that I could possibly be saying. Lets cut to the chase: "who am I and why am I here?"

It suddenly dawned on me that we're caricatures of the American bourgeoisie!

I see dead people.

Who the hell are you two?

It's a building policy, no clipping your toenails out here in the hall.

You really should stop leaving your door open like this. It's not like poeple want to know what you're doing in here.

Oh, sorry, just testing your doornob. Yep, seems to be working just fine.

"Are you sure you haven't had sex with my wife?"


(Okay, I did)

"Hello, I am from the IRS."

"Hey Einstein, next time you want to fuck a guy's wife and borrow his laptop -- you may want to check if there's a built-in camera first."

You both come across as boring elitist intellectual snobs and then I walk in and find you like this?

This is the last time I'm opening the door and finding you two like this or I swear I'll slam this door so hard that the paint will peel from the walls.

"Just so you know. Between my wife and my laptop -- its hard to say which one has the nastier viruses."

"Hey guys, it's me. White Buick Skylark? 1985? You almost sent me crashing into the guardrails getting over three lanes in 100 feet? I took down your license plate and kept track of both your whereabouts for the past twenty-two years. You should have killed me when you had the chance."

"There's that box of chocolates. You took it to bed with you, Harry? Oink, oink."

"i was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Hi. I'm from eBay. We're really going to have to ask you to stop selling your wife's toes online. It, um -- it grosses us out."

I just returned from the doctor and I've got some bad news. It turns out that with my developing kyphosis I may be showing early signs of dad's lack-of-neck syndrome.

Have either of you seen my penis because I remember seeing it in her yestarday?

In hindsight, no one could recall why -- or, indeed, whether -- they'd invited Henry Jaglom to participate in the (then-titled) "Five Rooms" project. All they knew was that the resulting segment -- consisting, as it did, of a long, discursive conversation between a woman, her husband, and her lover, mostly improvised and filmed in a single take -- didn't really fit with the other four segments. Indeed, Jaglom's work was such a disappointment that Harvey Weinstein not only cut it from the film, but scissored it into thousands of tiny pieces, which he then ingested. The above shot -- retrieved from Weinstein's stool by a particularly intrepid assistant -- is the last remnant of Jaglom's work, a work that rivals Erich von Stroheim's 12-hour cut of "Greed" in lostness, if not in quality.

"Doing your taxes early? That's smart. Not enough people do them early."

"Shame on you both. This is one piss poor excuse for a nooner."

Mom. Dad. It's me, Timmy. I was grabbed off my bike and held captive for the last 32 years. We're booked on Oprah tomorrow, so lights out.

"Did anyone remember to tape
Patty Duke for me?"

"Have you folks given any thought to purchasing a really good Medeco® lock?"

"Turn on the slow cooker at
noon-can you handle that at least? I'd be happy to do it-but I gotta GO TO WORK!"

"Funny, the train didn't mention a stop in LAYINBEDALLDAYVILLE."

"Okay, Agnes, if I promise not to spend every entire evening writing captions, will you promise not to sleep with every guy in the neighborhood?"

FBI, Ma'am. One of our T.A. Winchlers is missing.

Well it's a lovely B&B but you really didn't need to show me what the bed looks like when it's occupied.

"Why is the bed facing this way again?"

Well, as your doctor I have to advise both of you that: #1) doing yoga in bed can seriously damage your vagina and #2) having a lap top on your lap can seriously damage your gonads. As your lawyer, I think we can easily win a settlement without even going to trial.

"I'm going to see a specialist about our family's genetic melanin deficiency. Want to come with?"

Mr. Cheney is passed out in the Lincoln Bedroom again, Mr and Mrs. President. He's been threatening to shoot Mr. Libby in the head all evening. Just wanted to let you know. Good night.

Ok Guys. Where's the teacher?

Dammit! I'm in the wrong drawing.

Mom! Dad! Tell me you're not "Liberated Couple Seek Bi-Man."

Who dropped the sneaky fart?

Frankly, I've never liked your vagina very much Muriel and as far as your penis is concerned Jeffrey, I always thought that you were better off hiding it behind your laptop anyway.

I heard there was a complaint in the building about some guy who barges into people's bedrooms and ruins their couples only time. Let me know if you see him.

Stop posting captions. The building is on fire!

What the heck is this bed doing in my office!?

I must have the wrong room. I'm looking for a newyorker cartoon.

You know what I realize as I look at you two in bed? The readers of this publication are unaware which one of you shouldn't be here, so my sexual orientation remains a secret.

Hi. I'm here to watch you have sex.

Is this real love or just casual incest?

I'm the haiku man
For twelve bucks I say haiku
A one-time offer

Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't expect to find you in here. Do you want me to close the door on my way out or leave it ajar as I found it? Again, my apologies for disturbing you.

C'mon. You two look like I'm the first briefcase salesman who's dropped by tonight.

Can I use your bathroom?

"Okay, I'm gonna close the door and count to 50. When I come back in I want to see 2 naked people establishing the gold standard for obscene behavior!"

Listen, don't tell anyone, but there's a body hidden under the bed and 500K in this briefcase. See ya!

Listen, Herb, I forgot to bring enough clean underwear, so I'm wearing some of yours. Thanks for letting me crash.

Hi, listen, can I hide under your bed? I'm being pursued by the entire police k-9 squad, not to mention a pack of hungry wolves.

Whatever you do, don't look under the bed.

"14 days 'til pitchers and catchers."

Dex's caption is truly a work of anti-caption beauty.

Have you seen my pet skunk? I think he may be hiding under your bed.

The bed isn't too small, her ass is too big.

"Ah. Is this the right room for an argument?"

In this scene from CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY 2007, downtrodden ad sales representative Charlie Bucket (Tom Hanks) discusses the Golden Ticket with Grandma Josephine (Anjelica Huston) and Grandpa Joe (George Bush). Copyright 2007 Warner Bros. Pictures.

Why the fuck are you painting dad's toenails?

Let's see. Your foot is in your lap. A laptop is in his lap. The National Geographic DNA project established your mother's mitochondrial genetic heritage as originating from Lapland. But I don't even have a lap since I'm standing up. Does that mean that I'm adopted unless I'm sitting down?

I'm sorry, I just can't help staring at your lovely belly button.

Hi, I'm no one interesting. Can I join you in doing nothing interesting.

I know you're helping us get through this audit dear, but can you just get it over with and blow him? I need to get to sleep.

I'm here for the gangbang...

this little pig went to market, this little pig stayed home, hold on a sec, this little pig.....

"Rod Steiger's dog. I think it would go something like this - bark, bark, bark, Ruff, Ruff, RUFF, GROW-ELLL, GROW-ELLLL!!"

"Who broke the chair and ate my poridge?"

Excuse me - we seem to have mixed up our briefcases at the airport - I see you have discovered my Realistic Inflatable Tantric Housewife Love Doll...

Mayor Newsom? Woah, you've aged.

"WHOOOAAAAA - something tells me that all of a sudden it's not 1961 anymore!... chiefly the guy typing into his briefcase, but also the way this hussy is dressed."

"I guess this explains why you were both having sex on the kitchen table yesterday."

"I locked my car keys inside my briefcase......, and the key to my briefcase is locked inside my car."

Pardon me, I'm looking for the Pompatus of Love... Hmm, not here.

"Aaar-i-ZONE-A, take off your rainbow shades...."

Sorry, dad, I took your collection of rare coins and replaced them with those facsimiles that you are admiring so that I would always have insurance in case I ever was in a bind, but now that I have a decent, reliable income, I would like to return the authentic collection here, with my apologies.

I'm sorry, but I will not conduct another single business meeting in my pajamas, therefore I'm looking for another line of work.

"Are you goin to eat those toenail clippings?"

"Well, this one certainly has set a record for number of captions, hasn't it, mom and dad, or should I say "na," "Abulafia," "NAMBY," "Joey 4" and "Vance"? Thanks again for your tireless efforts to junk up my caption contest!"


"Last week it was the electrician. Today it's the accountant. Who's it going to be next week, the PLUMBER!!??"

"Mr. and Mrs. Lubotvhorsky, there are 199 very unfunny things in your bedroom. Three of them are your sex life. The rest are..."

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