need more stuff?

December 7, 2009

The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #220

Harry Effron

Submit the worst possible caption for this New Yorker cartoon.

———Last week's results. ———Rules and tips.


First Place:
"Quit fucking around." -- Steve_O

Second Place:
"You're just a shadow of what you used to be, just like my wife." -- Rob

Third Place:
"Stop eating your own feces." --TG Gibbon

Honorable Mention:
"Christ, what a shadow." -- The Confidence Man

"If this is your non-verbal way of pointing out that I have the lights mounted on the wall of my office instead of the ceiling and yet, strangely, I cast no shadow at all, I take your point." -- Joshua

"Mr. Foo-Foo, you have a repetitive stress fracture consistent with scooping up field mice and bopping them on the head. A regimen of Ben Gay and ibuprofen should have you back at it in no time." -- Rich Lather


"Look, duck, turning your head away from me is not going to change the fact that you're going to die."

"You're interested in hare removal?"

"And you think it was sexually transmitted"

"Have you been eating more carrots like I told you to?"

———You———re just a shadow of what you use to be, just like my wife.———

"Can I have a handjob now?"

And a venti double cappuccino, and three pieces of coffee cake, and Doreen wants an egg salad sandwich, and... oh, never mind, I'll just write it down for you.

I can see why erectile dysfunction would be a real problem for you, given everything I've heard about rabbits. I mean, I don't want to perpetuate a damaging and offensive stereotype about your kind or anything. How many wives did you say you had?

"I see you have adapted well to life without legs."

"Arthritis is a bitch, but having your hands locked in that position has me thinking someone 'up there' has a sense of humor."

Mr. Sullivan, please be more careful with your shadow! Now I'm going to have to have Latasha clean and disinfect the walls and the side of the exam table.

Well, the hare graft seems to have taken pretty well.

"Your test results indicate it's lights out for you, Mr. Bunny"

Tell me more about these recurring nightmares of ducks and bald men with shotguns.

"Mr. Foo-Foo, you have a repetive stress fracture consistent with scooping up field mice and bopping them on the head. A regimen of Ben Gay and ibuprofen should have you back at it in no time."

"Mr. Foo-Foo, you have a repetitive stress fracture consistent with scooping up field mice and bopping them on the head. A regimen of Ben Gay and ibuprofen should have you back at it in no time."

As for the feeling that you could come apart at any moment, and that some invisible person is controlling your every move, I can reassure you that these concerns are quite common in shadow animals. Because it's true. You could come apart at any moment, and some invisible person is controlling your every move. I realize this isn't terribly reassuring.

I'm sorry, but I think my mouth is too small for you to fit both hands into.

"The x-rays show you're a jackass instead of a jackrabbit."

I'm afraid I have bad news. I still have 50 more years to live.

"If there is no God, then who's holding the fucking flashlight?"

"Mr. Fudd, we've determind that you have a wabbit fixation."

"For your health, I recommend not standing in the middle of the road like that."

"Well, I'm not a real doctor either."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Black Rabbit of... Inl——, did you say it was? I can't divulge any information about Hazel-rah's condition. Doctor-patient confidentiality, you know."

"I can't help you. You either need a veterinarian or a psychiatrist. And clothes, too, you need clothes."

"I don't see anything physically wrong with you. But psychologically, you often attribute your own thoughts to other people. Your problem is projection."

"It sure is bright in here. I'm going to close those blinds."

"Mrs. Palin? If you could you be serious for a moment, we need to discuss how we're going to put Trig down."

I'm afraid your accident with the hydraulic chocolate bunny mold has crushed your hands beyond repair. I'm going to have to amputate both of them. I'm terribly sorry.

"You have about 3 weeks to live."

"Yes, you do have something wrong with your penis."

"Foo Foo Silly, you crazy bastard! How the hell are you?"

"Ehh...What's up, Doc?"

"Hello Freudian representation of my sexual potency which has caused many problems in my life such as my 19 kids by 17 women in five different countries, creating a ridiculous child support bill, for which I had to get this third job, working the graveyard shift as a janitor in a hospital where I like to drape a stethoscope across my shoulders and grab a clipboard and walk around to different rooms trying to find women to screw."

"Of course not, Mr. Bonds. I expect you to hit home runs. Now, the pharmacy is just down the hall to the left."

"That we professional appraisers of shadow puppets dress as physicians is our business. And, yes, you call me 'Doctor.'"

"X-rays show multiple fractures, but you need to see someone who specializes in casting shadows."

Christ, what a shadow

"As a doctor I am overworked -- I mean I barely get to see my kids as it is. So if you're going to just screw around please leave and tell my receptionist to send in the next patient."

"I can give you something for the erection, but there's nothing I can do about those ten foot long legs."

"The operation was a success. Your horribly disfigured, fused hands now look like a cute little bunny!"

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Me. Because I'm a cardiologist."

"Oh, waiter. There's a hare in my examination room."

"It says here that you claim to have invented hip-hop."

"Why, yes, we are indeed hiring. Just knock on the door that says Vivisection"

"Take two carrots and call me in the morning."

"It could be a duck or it could be a crocodile, Mr. Smith. The only thing I know for sure is that you have an inoperable brain tumor."

"Look, if you want this portrait to turn out well you're going to have to hold still."

It's cancer of the prick.

"Of course not, Mr. Bond. i expect you to dance."

"Of course, you're pregnant again with eight penumbras."

Please stop trying to pinch my nipples with your shadow-hand. It's very distracting.

That's great. Hold it right there while I make a quick sketch.

You claim this is a good likeness of the rabbit that attacked you, but I've never seen a black rabbit with white eyes.

Of course not, Mr. Bun. I expect you to diet.

"Mr. Tucker, would you please stop grabbing your massive dick!"

"Very funny. Now put him down if you want to keep working at this vet."

"Yes, it is hard to believe that this much damage could be done by one small woman, Mr. Woods."

"No, Miss Lebovics, the rabbit is still dead and you're still pregnant. You're not going to convince me otherwise."

"Stop eating your own feces."

"Very good. Now do an elephant."

"Yep, that'll be the hantavirus. You should regain use of your hands in 3-7 days. Or be dead. Whichever. I'm not the boss of you."

"With a cock like that, rabbit reproduction rates suddenly make sense to me."

"I'll adjust the spotlight and if you would kindly get on the exam table and uncross your feet I'll begin your gynie exam."

"Don't you know fisting a rabbit is very unhealthy, especially for the rabbit?"

"Dr. Richards! As fascinating as the story of Dr. Doom's attempt to turn all non-Latverians into bunnies is, we need to try taking your blood pressure again."

"Yes, I agree that this problem likely stems from the time you were sodomized by the Easter Bunny at the mall."

"We just finished stitching back up. She's angry, and wants you to know that when she said she wanted to 'fuck like rabbits', getting fisted with two hands in a shadow puppet pose is not what she had in mind. Oh, and the super glue should wear off in a few days."

Make sure to let Sybil know that I miss her too.

"hmm... These stripes on the exam table aren't exactly parallel."

I know it's irresistible at parties, but the bunny shaped tumor has got to go.


"I'm sorry we built on your indian burial ground, oh great spirit of 'Sikyatavo-friend of the rabbits.'"

"You're here because you're a rabbit and you're not able to multiply? You're a fucking shadow, dude!"

"No, no... I check your prostate."

"A black puppet with big ears in a doctor's office, and a "bunny" yet -- obviously a racist comment on Obama's health care reform. Anybody ever seen Sean Delonas and Paul Noth in the same room at the same time? I rest my case."

"Hey, Patch Adams, I'd like finish my rounds. Thanks."

"Actually, this is quite common. You may also experience some giggling, and a persistent desire to hear Pink Floyd music...As I mentioned earlier, medical marijuana DOES have a few side effects."

"Your shadow puppetry skills would be more impressive if I couldn't see that rabbit you're holding."

"I find it very disturbing that you can do that with your legs."

"Whaddya mean Bunny Lake Is Missing?"

"Yes. I, too, enjoyed Picasso at the Lapin Agile."

"I understand that Czarina Alexandra eschewed ermine in favor of rabbit."

"You wonder if I have a God-complex? Look, you little piece of fuckin' shit shadow puppet bunny, I AM GOD!"

"Just one more example of the shit they don't prepare you for in med school."

"Let me see... bunny... Playboy... you're here to talk about erectile dysfunction, Mr Jones? Oh I'm sorry, wrong again. Tell me, how exactly did you get those hutch sores?"

"It's good the Jefferson Airplane aren't here to see this."

"The Brown Bunny? The one where Chlo—— Sevigny gives Vincent Gallo the blowjob of his life and he cums in her mouth and they're both moaning? No, haven't seen it."

"Ummmm ... Renee Zellwiger? I told you I'm no good at this. Hows about we play a game of celebrity farts instead. Guess who this is: skweeeeeeeeeeephtphtpht. Give up? Haha. Mary Tyler Moore. Hahahahahahahahaha."

I've had patients on Viagra come in with 5 hour erections, but a five hour shadow animal? Never!

"No. It's not Acid Reflux; it's Rabbit Redux."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know the words to Me and My Shadow."

"Ok smarty pants, try doing it with one hand behind your back."

"The good news is we can save your hands. The bad new is...Mr. Nibbles won't survive the operation."

"Quit fucking around."

"Two syllables, sounds like 'habit.' Is it elephant?"

"I warned you, but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it?"

"Your LDL, that's your bad cholesterol, is at 195. That means -- listen, this is important. That means you're at increased -- please stop doing that."

The tests show that your lipid levels are normal, Mr. Noth. But there's an unusually high level of insipid this week.

"Uhhh Timmy, could you wait outside while I examine your mother's vagina."

"This could be a touching Oscar-worthy story about a man paralysed and unable to communicate to the world except through basic animal hand shadows. Could be. You know, if you weren't a notorious concentration camp guard."

"If this is your non-verbal way of pointing out that I have the lights mounted on the wall of my office instead of the ceiling and yet, strangely, I cast no shadow at all, I take your point."

"You realize it's Chrikwanzkah this month, not Easter. Oh, are you a wittle one-hit-wonder shadow puppeteer. How about a Santa or a menorah, bi-atch. But nooo, you can only do bunnies 'cause you're a fucking douchebag."

"C-mon. That looks more like a rabbit than a swastika."

"Yes I agree, the lighting power here is extreme."

"Look, no one loved Patch Adams more than me, but if we were to supplement the entertainment-based treatment with, say, chemotherapy, perhaps the children wouldn't die so much."

Isn't it strange how you can make Mr. Bunny dance while I project no shadow whatsoever. It's as though I've given it up like Peter Schlemiel, that poor mensch from Chamisso's early 19th-century short story. No pun intended.

"Suppose a newly-born pair of rabbits, one male, one female, are put in a field. Rabbits are able to mate at the age of one month so that at the end of its second month a female can produce another pair of rabbits. Suppose that our rabbits never die and that the female always produces one new pair (one male, one female) every month from the second month on. How many pairs will there be in one year?"

"Yes, it's amazing what you can do with 5 penises, Mr. Limbaugh."

"Don't turn away from me, Mr. Duck. You need to hear this."

"No, Mr. Bun, I expect you to die. Within three to six months."

"For patients like you, I charge a flat rate."

"It is perfectly logical that we use shadow puppet rabbits as test subjects. After all, this is a clinical trial for a new drug from Prozac's Eli Lilly. Eli Lilly, who collaborated in the CIA's MK-UTLRA mind control/brainwashing experiment, where LSD was administered to unwitting subjects, sometimes leading to psychosis and death. Eli Lilly, whose board of directors overlapped with the administrations of both Bush I and Bush II. Were this a Pfizer drug trial we would not use pretend bunnies. We would instead experiment upon Nigerian toddlers, and after we killed a bunch of them quickly jump on the plane in the middle of the night and sneak home, hoping nobody noticed."

(So... who won?)

"I'm not judging this caption contest until you stop with the bunny ears nonsense, take off your pants, and jump up on this cold plastic seat and crumple up this cheap roll of paper. And I mean it."

"What's that, girl? You say Harry Efron fell down a well before he could judge last week's contest? The same well as two weeks ago, or the one from four weeks ago? You'd think that guy would be more careful around wells!"

"I wish I could do that, but all I got from Stanford was a lousy M.D."

"The rabbit is cute, but with arms like that you might want to check your insurance coverage again."

"The hell with ObamaCare... what good is my medical practice if I can't choose my own patients?"

Post a comment

Powered by
Movable Type 3.2