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Inquiring minds want to know what the hell this New Yorker cartoon is getting at

I can’t stand Kathy Griffin. And when I say I can’t stand her, I mean, I cannot stand her.

And if she had been the sole focus of the “Seinfeld” episode “The Cartoon,” I might not be able to watch it. OK, I’d still watch it, because it’s “Seinfeld” and the George-is-dating-a-she-Jerry think is hilarious (I will make an exception for “The Puerto Rican Day Parade,” though, because that one is just painfully unfunny. Don’t even get me started on it.). But thank God for the B-plot, in which Elaine cannot for the life of her make sense of a New Yorker cartoon (and is eventually given a chance to craft her own). That plot works so well because The New Yorker frequently features cartoons that aren’t nearly as clever as we’re apparently supposed to think they are.

That’s certainly the case with yesterday’s cartoon. I stared at it for a while, and then I stared at it some more this morning, and if I stare at it any more, I’m gonna get a headache:

For Emily’s sake, I sincerely hope she didn’t put too much work into that. Because whatever work she did put in, it really wasn’t worth it.

Suckers.

That is the question.

Has AOC’s deadline for reversing climate change been solidified and nobody told us? And where do vinyl records and the USPS factor into it?

See, that could work, at least.

Heh.

OK, fair enough … but I still want to know what Emily Bernstein, and, by extension, The New Yorker, were trying to say here.

“Cartoons are like gossamer, and one doesn’t dissect gossamer.”

Well, Emily Bernstein’s cartoon shouldn’t just be dissected; it should be ripped to shreds.

Eh, I won’t hold my breath. Like the cartoon itself, there’s just no point.

Sad!

And what makes all this even sadder is that Emily Bernstein and The New Yorker could’ve saved themselves a lot of time and embarrassment if they’d just applied Iowahawk’s Law of New Yorker Cartoons:

In the future, all New Yorker cartoons should come with that caption. At least until the earth bursts into flames in 2042. After that it won’t matter, thank God.

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Related:

‘How did this narrative get so stupid?’ New Yorker cartoon takes aim at mask mandate opponents and misses by a mile [pic]

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