How to Become a Slightly Warped Cartoonist: Part 9
In an earlier post I said that I draw very few cartoons about things that happen to me. That isn’t to say I don’t get ideas while going about my daily life. Here are some ideas I generated on a shopping trip, along with my thought process and what was happening when I came up with them.
Motor homes going 40 MPH are the bane of coastal Oregonians’ existence. I’m stuck behind one of the most enormous ones I ever seen. It’s so enormous, I’m amazed it doesn’t have a “Wide Load” sign on it. What’s the opposite of a wide load?
Not funny enough. Turn the wide load on its side. Aha!
A bicyclist is sitting by an Elk Crossing sign eating his lunch. He looks so calm. I once biked ten miles on highway 101 and decided I didn’t have enough suicidal impulses to ever do it again.
I’m looking for a new sweatshirt, my major annual fashion outlay. A triple extra large is spread across the top of the pile. A bicyclist, his bicycle and an elk could probably fit into it with room to spare. One size fits none. Someone asks me if I know where bathing suits are. I have no idea. Who wears a bathing suit here? Two 70° days in a row are considered a heat wave. I tell her that I sometimes go to the beach topless—that when I’m feeling particularly frisky I take off my sweatshirt.
I can’t find shampoo for normal hair amongst the umpteen-gazillion different shampoos to select from. When I was in Africa we used a bar of Sun soap for all our cleaning needs: washing dishes, washing clothes, washing our bodies, and washing our hair, be it oily, dry or flyaway. There’s a woman next to me with hair that’s, well, I’m not sure? A cross between an Afro, a Mohawk and the hair of someone who’s stuck her finger in a light socket. It’s beyond description.
I pick up a baguette in the bread aisle. It probably won’t make it home intact. I love eating the gooey soft insides and sometimes get home with nothing but an empty crust. French bread is the one socially acceptable white bread in some circles. I once admitted that I like Wonder Bread to a group of friends and you’d have thought I said I like clubbing baby seals and eating their soft underbellies. A woman is scrutinizing all the bread labels. “Looking for gluten free,” she says. I’d never heard of a gluten allergy until recently, but she’s the fifth person in as many weeks I’ve met who has one.
People have so many allergies these days that the list of ingredients in food is sometimes shorter than the list of things not in the food.
Talk about dangerous food, the tomatoes in the fresh produce section are so hard they could be used to stone a person to death.
At the checkout line I’m behind a couple I saw in the parking lot getting out of a car with “Just Married” written on the back window. They can barely keep their hands off of each other. The woman giggles. “Tom, are you undressing me with your eyes again?” I wonder who was the first person to say that? Eve to Adam after she put on her one-size-fits-all fig leaves? What about before that?
Half the parking lot is empty, yet someone in a huge SUV has chosen to park so close to my car that I can’t get in via the driver’s side door.
In tomorrow’s post I’ll talk about where, outside of the New Yorker, you can try peddling your cartoons.
Came in the Middle of the Series? Go to Part 1