Cartoon Violence's Eyes! Cartoon Violence's Eyes!
Each week, the Comics Curmudgeon helps explain Today's Cartoons.
Yeah, I know, I know: the political cartoon is an essentially visual medium. Subtlety is not the genre's strong suit. You must be left with an image that conveys the artist's point of view forcefully implanted in the frontal lobe of your brain so you go out and do whatever crazy thing it is they want you to do. But are there no limits in a civilized society? Will there be no sense of propriety, no Geneva Convention of cartooning, to prevent awful visions from recurring in our nightmares for years to come? Have you no decency, sirs and madams, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency? Apparently not. Prepare for horror, after the jump.
Now that you've seen it, you really can't help but think: That amiable, big-chinned Barry really is a kind of a dead ringer for the beloved amiable, big-chinned cartoon character, though Barry's much
mellower (post-cocaine, anyway). It's also worth noting the fact that Barry/Tigger's hands are very mitten-like, reinforcing the idea that this is not meant to be read as some kind of metaphor, but rather
Barry actually taking up the furry mantle cast aside by Tom Vilsack.
At least we were spared: Hillary as Kanga? Biden as Rabbit?
Richardson as Eeyore?
Awful vision: Dennis Kucinich, naked, pasty, and with a sparse covering of stubbly hair, having an angry conversation with some aliens. If you look closely (not that I advise it), you can see a tiny, flabby pectoral around his nipple.
Now that you've seen it, you really can't help but think: The aliens must have given him special mind-control powers because there's no way that scrawny bod could have maintained the interest of his super-hot much younger wife. I mean that lower metal band shouldn't be sufficient to cover much, and yet....
At least we were spared: The anal probing. Although if that instrument hanging from the ceiling is any indication, Dennis won't be spared it much longer.
Now that you've seen it, you really can't help but think: That's it's sad how resigned the poor elephant looks to his fate. "What, you want to ride around on my nose and pretend its your dick and shout '9/11 9/11 9/11!' over and over again until November? Sure, whatever. It's not like I've got anything better to do."
At least we were spared: Rudy using his enormous fake grey penis to "take an unexpected call from Judi," if you know what I mean, and I think that you regret that you do.
Now that you've seen it, you really can't help but think: That if only the world's most deadly foes could be put in a room together and forced to rub noses, there'd be a lot fewer wars. Or maybe not,
considering that most of these dudes are old and have wattles and bad skin and such, and they'd just be repulsed and escalate their ethnic cleansing/sanctions/bombing campaigns as soon as they got home.
At least we were spared: The Bush-Sarko nose-rub that surely accompanied the new French president's recent American love-in.
Awful vision: Dick Cheney's huge, jiggling, floppy man-boobs.
Now that you've seen it, you really can't help but think: Good lord, those man-boobs are huge. And floppy. And that's exactly what it would really look like in non-cartoon real life if Dick Cheney ever
took off his shirt. Dear God, please don't let Dick Cheney take off his shirt, I'm begging you.
At least we were spared: Dick Cheney's huge, jiggling, floppy genitals. I mean, I don't approve of the loincloth in general -- you can see entirely too much buttcheek -- but it covers the minimum required to save us from the ultimate horror. --THE COMICS CURMUDGEON