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March 8, 2010

The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #231

al in la

Submit the worst possible caption for this New Yorker cartoon.

anticap 231  bearded guy hospital ed.jpg

Rules & Tips

For a whole bunch more honorable mentions, a judge's comment for each one AND an explaination on why it's a tie go here.


The American People are telling me that they want him bankrupted and inadequately cared for--Walt
First PLACE (Tie)
"He keeps muttering, 'Foregive them father for they don't know what the fuck they're doing.'"--:Rob

"Look, Em, I don't know what was in the time portal or those slippers, but that thing is part Cairn Terrier and part alcoholic girl from Kansas."--: Zeke

"His vitals are good and once a day we give him spare change."--: Rob


"His name's Bond. I expect him to die."

"I wasn't aware rugby was popular in Port Charles but I guess you learn something new every day."

"It's a shame Brenda and DeeDee couldn't make it but I'm sure the Captain--I mean Colonel--will be happy to see you, Taffy."

"Mr Charney will see you now, Miss."

———We need you to identify the body before we cremate him.———

"Oh you know, a shave and an infusion and he'll be good as new, Mrs Reagan."

"It's al in la and he had a rough weekend."

"I must warn you, miss. The flowers -- and the patients -- here are obscene."

"And this is what the young doctors have lovingly dubbed The Hurt Locker."

———We———ll have him back on his hands and knees in no time.———

The visiting hours here are anthropogene.

"Unfortunately, the insurance company won't pay because he has a prehistoric condition."

———Overdosing is so simple even a caveman can do it.———

"Your pill-box hat really calls for a JFK joke, but he's dead, she's dead, even the the little saluting kid's dead. Fuck it; nothing's funny."

"We've kept him in an Ativan-coma ever since he pooped out an amber nugget containing Jimmy Hoffa."

Don't get too close with that brioche on your head, Ms. Parker, he's gluten intolerant.

"Miss Peters, prepare yourself for a little shock."

The funny thing is, I think he could still benefit from some Lipitor. And don't ask for that generic stuff - my golf trips aren't going to start paying for themselves.

"We're hoping he'll let you put the catheter in. I'll get you some barrettes."

"His troglodytes are still a little high."

"He used to be a Supreme Court Justice. Sad."

"Whatever you do, don't mention Raquel Welch."

"The reverse electrolysis has been a resounding success!"

"This one's a triple-bagger."

———...and conversely, by cutting his hair off his penis should grow back."

The flowers here are silkscreen.

His mate is Leeza Gibbon (or Barbara Mandrill, take yr pick).

In just 15 minutes I saved 15 percent on my insurance. Why, it was so easy . . .

And the Warped Tour was really counting on this Black Flag reunion . . .

He's certainly a hairy bastard.

Of course he's on IV. Didn't you notice the huge stone letters outside the door?

Don't blame me. You're the one that married outside their species.

The American People are telling me that they want him bankrupted and inadequately cared for.

E. coli.! You crazy bitch!
How the hell are you gonna beat that?

Look, a military tribunal is fine with me, but I'm only a doctor.

I think he'll be well enough to judge this week's contest, but keep Harry on standby.

He ate the free Grand Slam at Denny's. There's not much we can do for him.

"His vitals are good and once a day we give him spare change."

"typically, hirsutism isn't a fatal condition, but look at this fucking freak; we'll be going the gene pool a favor if we just kill him.

"He's a caveman, you're easy...put it together."

"It took a while to figure out she was actually a woman. These two people she keeps mentioning, Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Donald Trump - who are they?"

Don't expect much. These New Yorker cartoons are barely clinging to life.

Name's Fusilli. He seems to be a crazy bastard. We're trying to ascertain how the hell he is.

I'm very sorry. Your father has only a few days to live at best.

"Do you want to be the one to tell him that Geico car insurance doesn't cover routine medical bills?"

"Look on the bright side. He's still the odds on favorite to fill the Mets' fifth starter position."

The outlook is bleak. Take this chance to say you love him one last time.


"So, tell me, is he rich, a great fuck, or both?"

"Oh, really? He wanted more hair around his other head?"

"We're pretty sure it's Robin Williams, but the DNA test suggests he's at least 30% hyena. And he's really not that funny."

I'm sorry, Ms McArdle, but your colleague has started a no-grooming strike ever since the accusations of anti-Semitism were lobbed at him.

Now, Dana, the first lesson you must learn here at Former Bush Press Secretaries Memorial Hospital is ...

"This would be a good time to explain why we advertised for women who are wild about hairy."

"This wing is for the uninsured patients, so the $20 handjob will be plenty."

You don't want his remains?
Great. We need a new area rug in the lobby.

"You'd be grumpy too if you had to stare at a cottage cheese-paneled ceiling all day long."

"I'm very sorry. Your father has only a few days to live at beast."

"He hates the hospital food. He'd prefer to kill what he eats."

"He's more than a little pissed; he had the tube tuned to FOX News and caught wind of the death panels for Neanderthals."

"The experimental treatment for back hair removal turned out to be more of an er, ah,...relocation."

"I'd make the standard literary reference, but then again, you're no Beauty."

"I guess when Obama said he wouldn't shave until healthcare reform passed he wasn't kidding."

"He started giving me attitude when I suggested he watch 'Missing Link' to relieve his boredom."

"Well, his being cranky is understandable... he expected to wake up in the Paleolithic."

"I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, your husband survived the procedure. The bad news is, he's a Cro-Magnon."

"His mood started going downhill when we made him a wear a hospital gown."

"The medical bills are bad enough. Then he sees you bought yet another valise."

"I'm wondering why you're appalled here today."

That flesh-eating virus we suspected turned out to be fleas.

I'm afraid he's gone. I'll need you to step behind the curtain and undress now.

What are you doing married to this hairy fucker?

"Shave and a haircut: five grand."

Is it really going to matter that he's circumsized? By the way, it didn't go well.

"No, Miss Di. I expect you to bond."

"I've run an extensive series of tests. I've combed through all the data, and gone through all the relevant medical texts. Just to be sure, I even consulted with a specialist in Norway this morning on the phone. At this point, I think it's fair to say with about 95% certainty that your husband has an acute case of hair."

"Wow, howard hughes's preseerved corpse has really let itself go."

"Your vagina must really look like hamburger after all these years, eh Mrs. Worf? Oh, and your husband has cancer of the livers."

" Yes, she was very gracious last night, but Ms. Streisand still believes she should have been the first woman to win Best Director."

The donors here are Australopithecine.

His appearance will be shocking to you but worse your father is unlikely to recognize you. The years of drug abuse and homelessness, and the sequelae of untreated diabetes that necessitated the emergency amputation of his legs have left him psychically disturbed and prone to rages. Tears will only provoke him.

"Don't freak out... that chart at the foot of the bed is my 401K."

"Your permission to release from captivity, Ms. Goodall?"

And here's a little taste of what it felt like that night your mom ate that whole bottle of Ambien and skyped me, honey.

"What more can I say? You bargain basement carnival people get what you pay for."

"He's recovering, but he'll never be able to play Sibelius' Concerto in D Minor again."

What's behind the curtain? Nothing much. Just some defective X-ray equipment and a malfunctioning microwave oven.

Yeah, that's an ape-man all right... but what more do you expect from a cartoon written by a Muther?

(Aw, fuck it...)

"I guess I'm wondering why you're appalled here today."

"He has my brain and I got his enormous schwanzstucker. Unfortunately, I kept my ED."

He's better, but he'll never speak fluent English again.

Maybe some candied nuts and berries will cheer him up.

If you squint your eyes REAL hard, you might just see that there's a pretty decent guy in there.

"I must confess, I'm getting pretty sick and tired of all his 'ooga booga' bullshit."

"Well, you can hardly blame him for being steamed. Those Geico jokes went stale years ago."

"The drip? Oh, we're mainlining him mead."

"When he gropes you, just close your eyes and pretend you're Rae Dawn Chong."

"Fusilli, you crazy bitch?!? No way -- we're feeding him grubs."

You're Jean Auel's daughter? Maybe he's just doped out on painkillers, but this guy says he's suing your mother for ripping off his life story.

Malpractice, schmalpractice. Show me the attorney who'll take conch shells for payment!

He hates jail, and anything that resembles it... because he's a noble savage.

"Someone started playing the song Crazy over and over again. And now he thinks he's Patsy Cline."

I don't care to dim your animal spirits, ma'am, but you'll note the absence of a "tent."

Why so glum? He'll be out of here in a week, and THEN you two can visit the relatives at the Museum of Natural History.

Damn, this guy had the whole ward fooled. We thought he was a primitive, but then we checked his fillings and he turned out to be Nick Nolte.

"Mrs. al in la, all he keeps saying is 'Why is 6 afraid of 7? Because 7 ate 9. Ha, ha, ha!' Do you have any idea what that means?"

No, I don't smell anything.

I should warn you: we had to shave his balls.

The Ghost of Christmas Future, I take it?

I told you Rosemary, the adolescent years were going to be hell.

We are now in recovery mode for the intern who gave him an enema.

I'm not a doctor, however I did have my hand up his ass last night.

So it's a deal. I pull the plug and you blow me.

I guess you're wondering why I'm enthralled with his rear today.

I guess you're wondering why I [Monty, Dierdre, Anthony Michael] Halled you here today. Hirsute, balls, anal, fusili, alinla, Effron you bitch, etc." Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha.

"Tonda pooka."

[Grandmama, you belong in the "Hall Hall of Fame."]

We've made a diagonsis, Mrs. Hall. He has hirsute balls and anal fusilli, in case you were wondering.

"Whatta ya say we give him a fauxhawk?"

"Next, I'll show you my collection of arrowheads."

"The nurse royally fucked up. I said '20,000 mcg's,' she heard, '20,000 B.C.'"

"I told you the treatment would make him a million years younger."

"You should have told us about his penicillin allergy."

"Unfortunately, one of our nurses inadvertently switched the saline bag with one full of hair growth tonic."

"He's in no mood for joking. Whatever you do, don't call him Harry."

"He claims he's Yogi Berra, or some dumb shit."

"We had a dickens of a time shaving him for the hernia surgery."

"He gives YOU the creeps? Last night he told me was on Medicaid."


"He gives YOU the creeps? Last night he told me he's on Medicaid."

We just call him "re in er."

"Look at your man. Now back to me. Now back at your man. Now back to me. Sadly, he isn———t me, but if he stopped using ladies scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he———s me. But he'd still look like a horse."

"Rogaine, no pain."

"Funny thing is, he won't eat anything except quiche."

"Strangest thing. He said he was totally normal until Rep. Massa started tickling him."

"We've given him a Nair-for-Men dip, but the dingleberries here remain obscene."

"All we know so far: his viewing habits suggest he's actually smarter than a 5th Grader. Oh, and I almost forgot: Hirsute, balls, anal, fusili, alinla, Effron you bitch, etc."

"Even his memory appears to be a little fuzzy. I suggest we...(hijack)...Hirsute, balls, anal, fusili, alinla, Effron you bitch, etc.""

There are 182 reasons for hairiness. So far we've ruled out an ovarian cyst.

He'll be up hunting and gathering in no time.

"This is the worst yeast infection I've ever seen."

"That reminds me. Make me a dinner reservation at the Reeking Testicles Trattoria."

I can't promise you anything. I've never used three enema bags before.

I'm consulting with Dr. Allen L. Alien. Multiple anal probes are likely.

He's dying. I shot a 79 this morning.

"Right after we thawed him out of the block of ice, he started dying. Not really surprising, actually."

"He claims he's Yogi Berra, or whatever that guy's name is."

"I should warn you: this is a big, ugly, hairy man you've never met. I don't know what room your husband is in."

"He's been sexting some guy in Indonesia named treeman about raising their little Fur-trees."

"That cat can eat a whole watermelon."

"I agree, Mrs. Jack -- if I may call you that. Wolfman has never been the same since disco jumped the shark."

"Insurance? He has HMO sapiens."

"First we had him neutered, then we had him spayed."

Now he's thinking lawsuit, thanks to his asshole lawyer brother, Ciroc something.

"He asked about Mad Men. And when I told him it wouldn't return until August, he fell back into his deep funk."

"You should seriously consider having your breasts enlarged."

"You're just lucky he isn't a 69-year-old who played for a Los Angeles team. They're dying like flies these days."

Your captions are unethical.

Complications can arise from any hair-removal procedure. He was informed of the risks.

He passed away twenty minutes ago. What would be an appropriate amount of time for you to grieve before we fuck?

"He's been in peevish spirits since Nurse Josh refused to give him a Happy-Ending sponge bath."

No, Mrs. Bond. I expect you to cry.

It's your call, ma'am. I get paid either way.

"While he does perk up a bit when we bring in the dogs on Thursdays, last week he ate a shih tzu."

"Yesterday, we helped him with the census form. He checked the box marked 'Other'."

No, Mrs. Bond. I expect you to comply. With his end of life directive.

"I told he's very sick. He asked for a second opinion, so I told him he's also ugly."

"Are you ready for the best mustache ride of your life?"

"I believe the expression is: m——nage —— trois."

"Behold, my brother Esau is a hairy man, but I am a smooth man."

"We decided to move him to a modern ICU. He was getting sick of his bed pan bird saying `It's a living' all the time."

He's hallucinating. Wants to live long enough to judge something or other. Says he's alley oop in la.

I botched the surgery, so I guess you're wondering why I had the gall to come here today.

The sedatives here? Ketamine.

"The bad news is that electrolysis and gastric bypass are not covered by your husband's insurance. The good news is that chemotherapy will address both issues. On that note, he has brain cancer, which I guess is kind of a mixed bag, news-wise."

"I'm afraid your husband has a terminal case of being a fat disgusting fuck."

"Look, Em, I don't know what was in the time portal or those slippers, but that thing is part Cairn Terrier and part alcoholic girl from Kansas."

I don't care if he DID create Mad Magazine - he can use a bedpan like everyone else!

"We'll have to do further tests to locate his genitals, I'm afraid."

"In his new book Karl Rove says this patient is handsome and in perfect health. That's good enought for me."

"The beast part I get, but where's the beauty?"

"He keeps counting in Roman Numerals."

Okay, here's the freak. Now where's my five bucks?

Your mother's treatment has had an unexpected side-effect.

Well, if you didn't send him the flowers, who did?

Watch your step; he doesn't use the toilet.

"He keeps muttering, 'Foregive them father for they don't know what the fuck they're doing.'"

She had a bad reaction to the hormone replacement therapy. We're postponing gender reassignment surgery.

"It's really a case of a cartoonist who's too lazy to draw legs."

He says he starred with you in One Million Years B.C. We think his name is al, but he insists we call him Tumak.

"I'm going to need a stool sample...from you, for him to eat."

"He really doesn't have Big Feet. Soooo... I guess ALL those huge footprints WERE fake!"

Strange. Since he———s been here I have an overwhelming desire to renounce my identity, stop shaving, let my hair grow, sell the Porsche, step out of the handmade John Lobbs and trade my Brioni suit and tie for filthy burlap. And now he is muttering about medical school, stock options, condos and refers to HIMSELF as Dr. Trevor Prescott and to ME as Og. And he laughs.

"Come on in, Mrs. Winchler..."

"He had to read about 200 captions this week, so his condition is understandable."

"I'm going to suggest a treatment plan of radical trichotillomania."

"I'm sure your family does love him, Mrs. Henderson, but I just can't release him now."

"After Geico got the gecko and the show on Abc fell through he just wouldn't stop eating. And now his blood pressure is dangerously high."

"Well Mrs. Vitropolis, the results of our testing have shown that your husband is not in fact an ape, only Greek."

"I know right. Even the gorilla made it into the New Yorker caption contest before a black guy."

"He was going around telling everyone the past couple of winners of the anti-cap were actually funny. We had to commit him."

How is the winner an anti-cap? It seems more like a funny caption to me.........................................

Unofficial "anti"-caption winner:

"I'm going to need a stool sample...from you, for him to eat." - Lieutenant Macaroni

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