Some people have assumed I’m enduring a personal loss. I’m not. This storyline just sort of emerged, probably from the almost-daily death I witness at the hospital in our COVID times, and reflecting on the grief families are feeling, often accentuated during the holidays. 2020 can suck an egg.
One would think that Mr. Timberlake could command more than six million. His agent must take–what–a quarter pound of that?
On another note…I’ve been doubling down on my New Yorker cartoon submissions. Since that is my cartooning goal I’m putting more time into thinking up and creating drawings I think will have a chance of acceptance. That means less whiteouts.
Of course when their rejections catch up with the pace of my submissions (about a four month lag time) you’ll see a lot more of those cartoons here. 😉