whoops, that’s boston-speak
Christ, what an asshole.
This is nothing; just wait until you see the one about the tap-dancing illegal immigrant.
High-class humor, Kris. Pip pip. Tally ho.
I accidentaly packed all of my worldy possessions twice, now I have…
The bindle, or 'tramps bundle', is the handkerchief tied to a stick. To maintain two in this economy is fairly ostentatious. For the same price you could just as easily afford the rent on a beach front refrigerator box, or even put a down-payment on a chinese food delivery carton condo.
Hank is actually just a hipster. They're easy to confuse.
What do you mean? I'm confused.
I went to Santa Barbara over the summer, and I can verify what this man says. The only visual difference between hipsters and hobos was whether there was a shopping cart nearby.
Oh, I'm one of them nouveau-poor types…. *sadface*
hehehe… i come from old no-money.
you may look the part, but you'll never truly be one of us.
Hank: I'M WALKIN' ON SUNSHINE, WAA-OO-AA-OH! I'M WALKIN…
My Dad often asks me to try drawing for the New Yorker. Apparently, he thinks it's easy to get in.
Can you blame him for thinking that.
I have not yet to learn of theees "new Yorker" webcomic? You has for to the internet address yes?
… Can I actually email you?
"cahtoon"? Don't you mean "illustrated laughing sqaure"?
Kudos on the Family Guy reference
If he had a boiga, he'd be behtah.
WHAT IS YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS.
WHAT IS AN E-MAIL ADDRESS? I ONLY RESPOND BY TELEGRAPH!
That's either a great caption for a New Yorker comic or a mediocre pickup line for a steampunk convention.
EITHER WAY: STOLEN
Can I fax it to you??
He's a poser! Faux pauvre …attempting to get into those swanky soup kitchens
Yet again Kris, another gold stroke of genius! Cheers!
don't vote this guy down, guys, i need those positives to convince the new yorker i'm good
kris, i just realized why i like this cartoon so much.
it's a ziggy!
It is NOT a Ziggy. You'll note that all the characters are clearly wearing pants.
HOW CAN YOU TELL
Because all their pants are torn at mid-calf. At least that's how I'm interpreting the jagged line that runs across each of their legs — I guess it could be a clumsy suture, and the three characters in the middle panel are hideous Frankensteinian golems assembled from the flesh of dead criminals.
In which case I rebuke Straub for his insensitive portrayal of the economically disadvantaged.
My favorite New Yorker comics are the one with an unlikely client on a psychiatrist's couch, the one that makes a sub-Dilbert-level joke about an aspect of corporate culture, and the one where the punchline is "Here's a word I just read in a Wired headline! I don't understand it! Ha ha!"
And… yeah, I think that's all of them.
Glam Chowdah, sah!
Response from The New Yorker:
"Still too funny. Can you tone it down a bit?"
Outstanding!! +1 from me.
it's funny cuz i know people who do that, too. silly people labeling things that don't exist…
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