June 16, 2008

The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #150

Submit the worst possible caption for this New Yorker cartoon. Click here for details. Click here to see last week's results. Click here to see the original caption from our bonus historical installment.


"Don't forget to slaughter the children." —Gary Goldsmith

"Wow, you've located the legendary 'Lost Lockhorns' strip." —gary

"Well, they've escaped. God, we're terrible foster parents." —Andrew Payne

Honorable mention
"I don't know which is worse: your inoperable brain tumor or your aim." —Urgh

"Geesh! Did you get that gun from a John Woo film set?" —mypalmike

"Wait! Before you blow your brains out there's just one thing I've gotta know . . . how did my flowers fall from the vase with its mouth still intact?" —Stoo

"Oh I get it. The other things are broken because he must have shot at them first with the gun." —Bobby

"Who taught you to shoot, Michael J. Fox?" —Oren U

"M. Night Shyamalan presents The Happening: The New Yorker Cartoon" —David F

Posted by Daniel Radosh


"Try not to miss this time."

"Samuel! Why do you always have to make such a show of things? Just drive the car down to the bridge, write something cliché about wanting to end it all in the dust on the window, and jump in. Or don't, whatever. But for fuck's sake put the gun down. Some of us still have to live here."

"Missed again, Bil Keane."

"Did the bullet bounce off your skull, or did the gun just jam on you? Oh, wait, never mind. Anyhoo, the Island wants you back."

(Sorry, fellow geeks, just wanted to get that out of the way)

Wow, you've located the legendary "Lost Lockhorns" strip.

"It's after 10PM. Suicide is allowed only by hanging or overdose."

"I don't suppose you would clean up all the broken glass before you do that?"


When you're done here, Harry, clean off the couch, will you? The raccoon got his prints on it again.

Relax, Tom. For Chrissakes, they'll find someone else to host "Meet the Press" eventually.

Hold on, Vince. Could you at least tell me what Hillary said to you?

You've really got to get your hearing checked and stop listening to all that rap music. What I said was "Why don't you get bussed to the capitol dome".

"You're supposed to put the barrel in your mouth! Don'tyou know anything?"

If you put the pistol in this hand that I am holding out to you I will point it at your face and pull the trigger.
...Then I will get dressed, write your suicide note and start a new life as a professional escort following the antiques roadshow.

See, that's the thing with Ikea furniture. They might be cheap and attractive, but they're so flimsy!

For Pete's sake, Jeffrey! If you're going to use rubber bullets you have to aim directly at the temple.

That's a nasty tremor...let me go get you your L-dopa.

"Are you gonna finish it, or is New Orleans ?"

"Is that a gun in your hand or are you just unhappy to se me?"

"For an ex-cop, you are a lousy shot. How can you live with yourself?"

"Please, Mr. Fenwick, stop! I beg you. I've called the hospital - they can help you."

You're so inconsiderate, Harold. You know today is the maid's day off.

"Okay, Henry, havung sex with me does not appeal to you anymore. I get it. I won't ask again. Just come to bed."

"You're not even trying."

"Figures ! You're related to that spastic Lorenz, aren't you ?"

Hey, I thought the tenth shot was for me!

Why so glum?

Did the Lakers blow another big lead?

"Yes, honey, I'm right on your head...a little lower...right there!"

"Here, let me show you how"

"Can't you ever finish a chore efficiently"

Kramer always enters through Seinfeld's door at the most awkward times.

"You pinhead ! It's beginning to look more and more like I stood by and let it happen !"

“Christ, what an asshole.”

“Reload and try again. And this time place the gun directly on your temple.”

“A flyswatter works just as well. Or flypaper. Or just call the exterminator. Here’s his card.”

"If Kevorkian explained it to you once, he .....! Early 'intervention' in the case of Parkinson's is absolutely crucial !"

Harold, give me that. You can't do anything right.

Oh for crying out loud..I go to a lot of trouble for these afternoon quickies...you think you could make a little effort here? Geez!

I am saddened at your decision to end your own life.

I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow my head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

Yes, I'm from the the VIP Emperors club - you have a problem with our "no refund" policy?

Can I give you a hand with that? Because one of us has to clean this up, and it's clearly not going to be you.

"Come to the basement, Henry. A tornado is breaking the house apart. We could die if we stay here."

Oh, sorry wrong room - ahem, hah hah...these long hallways...the doors look all the same! Oh, and don't get me started on key cards...talk about bad security. Well, I'll just pop out and be on my way...sorry to disturb you...have a nice day...bye!

"Geesh! Did you get that gun from a John Woo film set?"

Bill, it's 3 a.m. At least have the common courtesy to use a silencer next time.

"Well, whoopdee doo ! Little remorse over fucking our 'au pair' on that sofa last night ? Disgusting ! ..And now you expect me to complete her dismemberment, I suppose ?!"

I'll take Oprah for the block!

"I told you to get an 11-shot clip."

"...so believe me, dear, Tim Russert is totally not going to respect you for this !"

"Don't forget to slaughter the children."

Seriously Bill. When I ask you to help find my goddamn dildo...YOU BETTER DAMN WELL DO IT!! Fag.

“The smiling couch bothers me also.”

"I understand, the choice between plasma and LCD is difficult."

"The 'Sports Illustrated' football phone was a good promotional tool... The marketing team at Guns and Ammo, wished they had been more original."

"The 'Sports Illustrated' football phone was a good promotional tool... The marketing team at Guns and Ammo, wished they had been a bit more original."

"I know of a man with no hands or feet yet he's a respected collegiate wrestler. Now go ahead and shoot yourself."

Was it the pussy?

"Okay, you win. You're not an attention whore. Whatever, freak."

I don't care if the couch has eyes!

"Dinner's ready."

I don't mind the rest of the mess, Fred, but you know I can't stand graffiti. Now why did you write "Lorenz" on my living room floor?

"Studies show that the first successful attempt is often the hardest."

Check out our couch. It looks like a duck. Even though in reality it's two bulletholes and a pillow.

"Those shooting classes are really paying off, aren't they, sport?"

"You have a strange stain on your shirt"

"Morris, I warned you about watching too much David Frum."

Nice try, Herbert, but when I said that teenage boys make me horny, I didn't mean the Dylan Klebold type.

I don't know why you're so upset Bob! It's called Ghetto-chic and I just KNOW its going to be the next big thing in home decor. Why don't you just unwind a little bit in front of the telly . . . Oh, um, nevermind.

"Wait, let me get my camera phone."

"Suicide is painless, my ass!"

"If you miss one more time I'm going to kill you."

"Stanley, can't you do anything right?"

"White people are crazy."

"That was George Bailey on the phone. He says he got the Building & Loan money back, and he also learned a valuable lesson -- that it would be better if you'd never been born."

"Harvey! My sofa!"

"How's that working out for you, Annie Oakley? Mr. If-you-want-something-done-right? Assisted suicide's probably starting to look pretty good right about now, isn't it? But no, you had to go and fuck this up like everything else in your pathetic life. Well, if you think I'm still going to duct-tape a garbage bag over your head and give you a lethal injection and clean up this goddamn mess, you've got another thing coming. Just what in the blue blazes is your problem anyway? Why can't you just be happy in our marriage? Here's an idea -- step in front of a bus, asshole! -- if you can find the front door without a map, that is. Oh, don't look at me like that; it's called tough love. Deal with it."

"Don't worry, Dear, it's the thought that counts."

"Calm down, Harold. It was all a long time ago. So what if you and your team didn't get Castro -- you sure hit the bullseye in Dallas."

Oh my God, have you been trying to kill yourself?

O in the center sq-- wait a second...

My God, the only thing that hasn't been shot in here is your head.

"You fucker."

Are you committing suicide to escape your gambling debts?

"The more Marriott Courtyard changes, the more it stays the same."

Wait! Before you blow your brains out there's just one thing I've gotta know . . . how did my flowers fall from the vase with its mouth still intact?

"I knew I should have bought you the .44 magnum six-shot revolver instead of the .22 nine-shot revolver. Those little bullets are bouncing right off the metal plate in your head, and you only have one round left. Try aiming directly into your eye."

"Are those two bullet holes in the sofa? So you've actually fired ten shots? Meaning you've already reloaded? God, you're inept."

"You'd better hope DC v. Heller makes that thing legal, or you're going to jail. If you don't succeed in killing yourself, I mean. Which so far you haven't."

I hope you can explain how you did all this damage with that waterpistol.

That was the doctor on the phone. They ran more tests, and it is indeed Stage IV pancreatic cancer. Carry on.

"Happiness is a warm gun. But only if it has just killed you, because this is an unhappy marriage."

"Hey! Don't get any blood on Chairry, she's very sensitive."

"If you promise to keep the noise down, I'll give you your jet-pack back."

"....do you know where my word search book is?

" I do wish that you'd put your goddamned dirty underwear in the hamper!"

"Don't do it, Harold! I'm pregnant, and that bullet is the father!!"

"Hey, deadeye...for the last time, TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE!"

"I'm ready. You're not wearing that shirt again tonight, are you?"

"Bad timing, I know, but I need the gun. Our house is under siege by gang-bangers."

"You saw yourself move suddenly in the mirror so you opened fire?!?...You New York cops are all a bunch of burnouts cases if you ask me."

"Don't do it Max. Think of all the people you've yet to annoy."

"Have you seen my vulture?"

dave, i'm sorry. i didn't believe you when you told me that our sofa was in actual fact a giant, evil sofa-shaped duck with the power to control human minds and a taste for sadism.

I don't know which is worse: your inoperable brain tumor or your aim.

Its perfectly normal for a middle aged man to desire a threesome with Prussian Blue. Just make sure the Mom is out of earshot if you decide to tell them you're Jewish.

Next time, Harold, use a fly swatter.

If you had stayed at a Holiday Inn last night, you would have better aim.

"Wilfred Brimley, did you hear???! Oatmeal fucks with your brain!"

"What do you mean, 'I'm next'?!?"

"Okay... now this time squeeze the trigger....gently..."

Dick Cheney's on the line for you, says he's got some advice as to how to shoot an old man in the face.

"You were liking those GIECO commercials way too much and I tried to warn you...and now it's too late."

"Jesus, what a mess! And now you're going to shoot yourself? Huh."

"Oh, for Chrissake, Harold! You're supposed to gun down dozens of innocent people, then turn the gun on yourself. How hard can this be, when 13-year-olds who couldn't find a clitoris with a GPS can figure it out?"

"At first, I thought this was just a cry for help. But now that I compare it to the cry for help that your next-door neighbor gave when she heard the gunshots, I can see the difference."

"Good God ! It IS all so awfully depressing, isn't it ?! So 'Alain', almost ! So '1956' ! Is that 'naugehyde' or 'polyester'? ....Ick !"

Nice shooting Annie Oakley. You just neutralized Mr. Crosby's scrotum in 3B.

"See, Walter? I told you you'd regret doing 'Grumpier Old Men.'"

"I don't care what the mirror said, you're pretty Goddamned fair in my book!"

"Well I think that 'Grampa, why don't you just kill yourself!' is a perfectly reasonable response to receiving a birthday card with a nickel taped inside."

"Are you making that face because of the mess on the floor, or the mess in your pants?"

[Nice shooting Annie Oakley. You just neutralized Mr. Crosby's scrotum in 3B.]


You're sweating, so the muzzle keeps slipping off your temple. Let me turn on the air conditioner.

"Don't do it, Bill. Killing yourself won't end the pain we share over the death of our son. I love you."

"You've fired eight shots with a revolver that holds only six bullets. No wonder I find it hard to take you seriously when you say you're going to kill yourself."

"Yeah, well I got a right to 'this coyness', buster ! Come a-courting -- with four cheap-ass peonies ! Land of Goshen. Get out !"

"See, I told you the South Beach diet was effective!"

"I'm starting to follow Von Go's treacherous stream of consciousness...And when N.O it All! starts to make sense to me I'll definitley pull this trigger!"

"FUCK the Second Amendment."

"Okay, okay. I'll pose topless for you. Geez!"

"Oswald! Are you acting alone?"

"Don't give me that ! You 'smelled the roses'--my roses, didn't you ? Plucked them out and smelled them ! No other explanation, the vase mouth intact! ....Eat your heart out, Sherlock !"

That gun sure holds a lot of bullets.

For the last time, you're not one of the final five....you're just insane.

"You nincompoop. You're supposed to spin the *cylinder*, not the *entire freaking gun*. Here, it's my turn anyway."

Harold! Don't you dare turn this into some kind of 'cry for help' ploy. That's my thing...I invented 'cry for help' goddam it! If anyone needs help here, it's me. Look at how high-waisted I am.

"So this is what happens when a Polish gun nut gets depressed!"

Hold your horses Louis, I told you Dr. Kevorkian is running late today.

"I told you not to read Bugliosi's new book ! So depressing ! I mean, according to The New York Review !"

You shoot like you piss -- everywhere but where it's supposed to go!

" Don't laugh, your next! "

"Oh my god, why?"

" Baxter,drop the weapon! And don't give me 'From my cold dead hands' shit! "

"Game's up. There are no bullets left in that gun."

"Oh my God! Kenneth, put the gun down! Clause 13(b) of your life insurance policy specifically forbids this!"

[Sorry, I won't go over the limit again...]

Oh I get it. The other things are broken because he must have shot at them first with the gun.

"you'll never be free until kill your multiple personalities."

"I know, it's so much more dignified with the car, but think of the gas prices."

"It's the doorman. Do we know a 'Steve'?"

"Yeah I get it, humans are destroying the planet with their materialism... but no, I will NOT feed you to the squirrels when you're dead!"

"...And why would you think all this drama would convince me to show you my boobs?"

"I said 'Shoot, the furniture looks great!', not, "Shoot the furniture, it's great!", you nitwit... So now you're gonna shoot yourself over a comma?"

"That had better not be pot burning in that gun...fatty."

Rectum? He nearly killed 'em!

"Don't stop! Don't stop!"

In Russia, roulette plays you!

In Russia, people kill guns!

"Hey, Captain Shaky! How about you take your Parkinson's meds before you try to kill yourself."

"So how many bullets are in that thing?"

"When I heard the shots and the broken glass, I was hoping to find that you'd given yourself a 'Moe Greene Special'."

You never seem to miss when you cum all over my face!

"I didn't find a note anywhere, so I guess I'll have to ask, are you doing this because I'm porking your brother? I hate when you make me go through the damned guessing games."

Well, I've disposed of the bodies, and I see you've cleaned up the splatter. Yes, I'd agree that executing all ten grandchildren in front of the household items in order to simultaneously despoil our children's inheritance was a harsh way of indicating that we don't appreciate being used as last minute baby sitters. Anyway, I hear sirens in the distance, so let's finish this before we end up rotting in prison. You first, dear.

"Fred Mertz, if you really thought you ever had a chance of nailing Lucy, you're a bigger jackass than I ever imagined. By all means, continue."

"For Chrissakes, HERE's your suppository. Jerk."

"Shooting yourself? That's no way to die. A parachute not opening... that's a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine...having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that's the way I want to go."

"Can I--I mean MAY I--have your pudding?"

"Be like Hemingway -- suck it like a dick."

"You couldn't just kill yourself. You had to take the furniture with you."

"Will you stop that, Harold? You died years ago. You're a ghost -- completely non-corporeal. And I've already spent the life insurance payout, so I don't know how I'm going to replace all this stuff on my fixed income."

"Oh, shoot."

"Spatula? Colander? Damn it! What's the safe word?"

At least put on your suit jacket. Don't you want the coroner to think well of you?

"OK, I get your point. Guns don't commit suicide. People commit suicide."

"Harold, one of your ricochets just hit me in the hip! Don't you remember that your head has a steel plate on that side?"

"Is that the tie you're going to wear?"

"The Dow is up 120 points on strong trading."

"Oh come on. The prostate cancer will get you in a few months, anyway!"

"Shooting yourself won't get rid of the poltergeist activity in this room. Why don't you put the gun away and I'll offer you as a blood sacrifice?"

"Well, I'm going to bed."

"Your government TV converter box coupons finally arr... oh, never mind."

Dammit Helga, why does my favorite pistol smell like your sweaty old vagina? Oh, don't give me that "coincidence" bullshit, I'd know that crusty vinegar stench anywhere!

Harold's clumsy attempt to end his miserable existence was partly motivated by the unexpressed anger he held towards his wife Joan, who would constantly barge in on him in his study with an accusatory look on her face. Also, she was a cold-hearted, overweight chore of woman whose love for him had dried up years ago, along with the naturally lubricating juices of her lady parts.

Have you seen Timmy? We've been playing Hide & Seek for over an HOUR and I can't seem find the little dickins anywhere!

How is that mocking? I simply said that you never put your neck on the line for me.

Oh, damn this blasted headache of mine. Back in my day, we'd just get the old trepanning knife, let the demons out, and be done with it. Ho ho, it seems that reference serves to indicate that I am comically old. Oh well, off I go to vote for my older brother John McCain.

Why am I not surprised? You could never find my clitoris either.

"Senile implants are a lot harder than you think."

For God's sake, Howard, flubber and gunpowder? You remember when my father said you'd always be a failure? Remember, right before his chest was smashed in during your first flubber-based experiment? This is what he was talking about.

I'm having an affair.

"I said I need new furniture like you need another hole in your head, what did you THINK I said?!!"

Thanks for your help, but I think the bee flew out the broken window.

"The couch mentioned you'd been acting strange. I guess I just didn't want to believe him/it."

Dear, you forgot the cushion, lamp stand, wall, floor and the door, beside yourself.

Actually, what I really want to know is how you got 10 bullets into a 6-shot revolver!

Are you really that upset that a black man might become president?


Okay, I understand the couch, windows, mirror, ceiling, TV, and lamp, but why the hell did you shoot the flower pot? It just doesn't make any sense.

"Good afternoon sir. Are you familiar with our publication, the Watchtower? Oh, yes, I can see that you are."

"When you're done breaking the Guinness World Record for stupidity, come to dinner."

Now that have my attention, finish the job.

You know darn well a smoking gun won't hold up in court.

I hope you have a permit for that thing.

Big deal...so none of the children were actually yours. What a drama queen.

"Oh, alright. They DO look like bat signals."

"Let me guess: Robert Goulet on the TV again?"

" Dr. Schwartz called, your bifocals are in! "

"Why not Bil Keane?"

"What the fuck?! Oh, this is just outstanding. We're never gonna be able to come back to this IKEA now."

"Do you remember who it was that said 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster?' Well, do you?!"

You wanna know the really ironic thing? I'm killing myself with this gun for the same reason I bought the damn thing, because of my crippling inadequacy over my incredibly small penis.

"He!He! Unbeknownst to law enforcement, Gertrude knew her new hair-do, popularly hailed as the 'The Coffee-Pot', would cause her hubby Philbin to lose last touch with reality, and gun amok -- he!he!he!he!-- finally to take his life with a head-shot! There could be no suspicion of instigation--he!he!--no motive on the part of Gertrude...."

"Wait! Hold on a sec! Where's your camera phone?"

You're going bald. I'm a cunty trollop. But we must keep up this charade of a marriage for the press. They will be here at any moment. And for heaven's sake, don't shoot yourself in the head. Death makes you look old.

"Why don't you come to bed and let me suffocate you with a pillow?"

Stanley, your tie is askew.

"You know how gun play turns me on, why don't you come show me what your pistol is really for."

"Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each."

Hmmm, this is odd. I understand why the items made of glass that you shot would shatter, but why does the lampshade have a large shattered hole in it? Oh, silly me, I forgot that we replaced that lampshade with a ceramic one so that if it was shot it would be readily apparent what happened to anyone looking at this room from a fourth wall perspective.

"So you got caught ass-fucking a cub scout. Stop acting like its the end of the world."

So we bought a duck couch! Big deal! Relax and get used to it, Howard! It's actually quite comfy!

Don't worry, they're still planning to open Whole Foods in Brooklyn, it's just delayed.

Honey, you're ruining the mood of our incest dungeon.

Calm down, he just won the Primary, there's still the general election to be had.

Beretta, you crazy bastard! How are you?

Before you kill yourself, tell me. Does this robe make my ass look big?

Estelle was about to come over and have a sherry, but maybe it's not a good time. Or we can just stay in the kitchen.

You'll still be an idiot. Except, you'll be a dead idiot.

There's nothing wrong with your aim, it's just that you're brainless.

Your aim, Mr. Fefferson, is sickening.

"Did I mention that my mother will be coming to stay with us?"

"Happiness is a warm gun, Harold. Quick, get the vaseline!"

"Jerry, you woke me up again! The least you could do is put a silencer on that thing."

"Steven, can I borrow that? My curling iron is on the fritz again."

“That’s better--shoot something I can replace.”

"You should call the suicide hotline; I'm sure they'll be able to tell you how to do it."

"The chambermaid is at the door. I think she has a gun."

"Wait, are you Ozzie Nelson or Ozzie Osbourne? You guys are really hard to tell apart nowadays."

"It's okay, old man who represents America, McCain doesn't have a chance in the general!"

[apologies if any used before, no time to read them all. Seriously, 214? Y'alls know this isn't actually the New Yorker, right?]

Oh no Hank! You're having one of your 'Nam flashbacks again aren't you! I'll call a psychiatrist right away. And while he's here maybe he can explain to me why I have this strange urge to wear an empty Kleenex box on my right foot.

"So you nicked the monster scaling the apartment building thing from Jack Kirby. Any fool knows it was an homage, not plagiarism!"

"Rach called -- she says she needs us to pay for a new Mac. I told her we'd get her a Dell, it's half the price, but try explaining that to an 18-year old. It's got to be a Mac, she says. So I said I'd talk to you. Honestly, I think we've spoiled that girl."

"I know you work at the Post Office, but you have completely misinterpreted "going postal."

"You're nothing special - just another self-loathing Jew."

"If you're intending to kill yourself, I don't understand why you shot up the living room first. That makes no sense."

Wouldn't this be a great time for a piece of rhubarb pie?

"Tell me, shit-for-brains, is there anything else in this room you want to shoot before you off yourself? Well?...I'm waiting!"

There's such game as Russian Solitaire

There's no such game as Russian Solitaire

If you think this is getting you out of sex you're dead wrong.

Since the death of her husband it has become apparent that Edith is no longer able to properly care for, her mentally challenged son.

You could have had a V8.

Sheldon, are you sad because the dinosaur broke all our stuff or because he raped me?

I am going to fucking kill you if you don't clean up this mess.

Alright, alright I've proved it: Guns don't kill people, people kill people, at least most people.

What? Another rejection letter from that Remnick asshole?

Forgotten Moments in History: Gerald Ford's ill-fated suicide attempt

Don't do it. Don't let The Gays win.

"Middle-aged white men actually have one of the highest suicide rates of any demographic group, close to 30 per 100,000. Suicide rates are lower for teenagers, despite what most people think, and much lower for non-whites and for women. Does that you killing yourself better or even worse? Better, I guess. Yes, definitely better."

Ronald! Really! The whole reason you're upset is because I called you an inept failure who never followed through on his promises! Don't you see I can never respect you in the morning if you're still alive?

Does that make you killing yourself...

Oh hurry up before someone important gets hurt.

You can't kill yourself and your apartment is so small the front door opens directly into the living room. You are a failure, Glenn.

But this isn't how 'The Crying Game' ends at all.

I guess this is a bad time to ask if I can borrow some bullets.

Breaking the flower vase is just not that big a deal, Tom!

"You draw cartoons for a living... can't you think of a better way to CRY FOR HELP"

Why are there paw prints on the sofa? That's just ... oh, wait, I see it now, those are bullet holes. Carry on.

Oh, you can go ahead, I got it working again, batteries were in wrong !

"Just stopped by to shoot the shit, but I see you are ahead of me."

"Do it outside. This is the living room."

"You're stupid!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Atlantic Records called in 1963. They want to sign your stupid band."

I'm sorry Harold. I'm just not ready to let you snort cocaine off my ass.

"Don't tell me, let me guess -- the Libertarian Party candidate didn't get elected president again this year?"

Maybe it's the booze talking, but fuck you, you fucking cunt.

George, I can't find my new bottle of lavender bath oil. Did you happpen to notice where I put it?

I have a huuuuge erection.

"I'm leaving you for Kurt Cobain. At least he has a passion for life, and he swears he doesn't have a gun."

"Oh Chester, this is how those affairs started too!"

"Marge, it's just like the New Yorker cartoon contest."

The police are here...the neighbours are complaining about the noise.

"Get real ! Since we're talking low-velocity 'dum-dums' here, that lamp on the table should positively have been turned over. Face it, 'the creator' (whoever the fuck he is !) doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to ballistics !"

If you can't go through with it, you're supposed to just slit your wrists, for chrissakes!

Well, they've escaped. God, we're terrible foster parents.

OK, OK! I will try anal sex!

With all this gunfire, you're just lucky you didn't get hurt.

The police are here. One of the neighbors called after they heard the shots.

Henry, just because you have Parkinson's disease, that's no reason to commit suicide.

Wow, that's some really bad shooting!

What is it now?

Could you please keep it down? I'm trying to sleep!

"Give me that gun! You'll get it back after you've cleaned up this mess, and not a minute sooner, mister!"

"Is taking out the trash really that bad?"

"It's run out of bullets because YOU SUCK AT SHOOTING"

"What the hell are you doing with my Charlton Heston sex toy???"

"Budd Dwyer actually put the gun in his mouth, not next to his head. Get it right this time."

"I know, the new Weezer album is terrible, isn't it?"

"OK, John. I've given up the pills. I've stopped stealing. And you can call me cunt and trollop as much as you want. Now will you just put the gun down and get ready for tonight's fundraiser?"

"Why, Harold? Please, can you just tell me: Why?"

"Well you may be happy to know you just set a new anti-caption record: 275 shots...Now how is Mr. Radosh supposed to pick through this mess?"

"Suicide is aimless."

All the box office handicappers think this weekend was "Get Smart" vs. "The Love Guru." But I'm putting my money on "Mongol." Theater owners are expecting literal *hordes* . . .

Don't look so sad, Gus. The damage from the hurricane could have been worse. At least you found our gun. Hey, let's go shoot some looters!

Who taught you to shoot, Michael J. Fox?

Well then Harold, I can see the depression brought about from your failured career as an interior decorator and mob hitman have combined in a fitting final tableau.

Ok, I'm going to close this door like I didn't see a thing. I'm going downstairs and put on some tea and by the time it boils I expect to hear one more shot followed by the thud of a body. Harold! Are you even listening to me?

Have you seen my gu-- Oh, never mind.

M. Night Shyamalan presents The Happening: The New Yorker Cartoon

"Who taught you to shoot, Michael J. Fox?" —Oren U

I feel bad for laughing so loudly at this.

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