This cartoon caption, submitted by Lynn Tudor, of New York, N.Y. and then selected from a pile of hundreds and voted to the top by New Yorker readers, is deft political satire masquerading as daft political satire. The most dangerous sort of critique is that which the Powers That Be do not recognize as subversive, for it appears so facile. And Tudor, with this caption, makes herself nothing less than a modern-day Švejk, as she fights to expose the absurdities of a broken political system by pretending to believe firmly in its toxic conceits.
Tudor’s caption is, prima facie, incredibly (almost painfully) dumb. The expression “full of hot [...]
We've all been enjoying the Times' block-by-block flash map thing of America. But let's not forget that it's based on sampling. Here's a cartoon about that!
Nerds: they talk about nerd things. Here, nerds Becky Ferreira and Miles Klee discuss the return/reboot of Futurama, now airing its sixth season on Comedy Central.
Miles Klee: Becky! I was half-watching Fellini's Satyricon last evening, and there's this mini-rant from a Roman poet about how Nero's empire doesn't produce art or theory, or anything to stimulate the national synapses. Where have all the philosophers gone? Pretty sure they're writing for Futurama, our animated authority on matters of bioethics, transhumanism and quantum fates. And as luck would have it, my DVR was recording the Futurama reboot at that very moment.
I'm more than a little troubled/confused by the story of Kurt Westergaard, the Danish cartoonist who survived an attack this Friday from an axe-wielding critic by hiding in a semi-fortified panic room. (Westergaard drew one of the controversial Muhammad cartoons in 2005). I mean, there are any number of complexities about the story, but here's the one that I'm most perplexed by.
If you're like me, one of your favorite ways to unwind in the evening is to get super-high and watch Nickelodeon cartoons. (I think "Fairly OddParents" is nothing short of genius, but I am generally stoned out of my gourd when I watch it, so who knows.) A friend of mine is a gigantic fan of SpongeBob SquarePants, the absorbent and porous fast-food employee whose booty was so recently admired by Sir Mix-a-Lot. "He's just so happy," she says, and it's true. The sheer joy contained within that iconic yellow frame is indeed infectious, especially if you are baked to oblivion. Anyway, James Parker offers an appreciation in [...]