Cartoon Worthy? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

It was unusual. The vine coiled around the tree like a boa constrictor. It seemed in no hurry to squeeze the life from its captive, content with the threat of imminent constriction. “Now, that’s a happy thought,” she said.

I’m bumping into a problem I’ve never before encountered. MM is prompting me with many great cartoon ideas borne of the daily outrage from the baggy blue suit and his clown car cabinet. My problem is twofold. First, they lampoon themselves so completely that every drawing seems like been-there-done-that. Since they are already dedicated made-for-tv-cartoon-characters, a kakistocracy (governance by the least competent), the challenge seems less about poking fun and more about cartooning cartoons. It’s dangerously redundant. How does one lampoon a president who posts pictures of himself as the Pope or a Jedi knight? He’s doing an excellent job of making a fool of himself. As is his cheering squad.

Second, their entire media strategy is meant to keep us outraged. Outrage is a very potent drug. Outraged people do not think clearly. They react. They hunker down in their reptile brain. I’m having an inner debate about my part in fueling the outrage. I’d love to draw cartoons that moved folks forward into their neocortex and engage their higher order thinking. Critical thinking is, after all, the enemy to MAGA, the fox, and this Republican administration. “Stop and think about it” is exactly what this administration and their propaganda machine does not want us to do. We might then see what is actually happening behind their comedy-chaos-curtain.

Stop. And think about it:

We have a Republican party whose characters strut like cowboys (even the cowgirls don bulletproof vests and pull their rhetorical pistols at the least sign of altercation) and yet, day after day we witness events like the vomit-inducing-sycophancy of the most recent cabinet meeting. Really. Stop and think about it: emasculation is the price Republicans pay for playing the role of cowboy for their leader. This lean, mean, destruction machine is all strut and no cajones.

Republican cowboys’ self-castration might be a worthy cartoon.

Hypodermic needles filled with outrage might be a worthy cartoon. A drug den of people screaming at each other while the dealer makes off with their wallets and purses.

Legislators who preach free markets but prohibit free thinking – that might be a a worthy cartoon.

The party that loudly promotes itself up as champions of limited government while imposing draconian limits on the rights of the many to give unlimited privilege to the few – that might be worthy. Imagine armored knights high atop war horses trampling unarmed peasant farmers while patting themselves on the back for their strength and courage.

Oops. I’ve worked a circle back to outrage. Outrageous.

One wonders when the red hats will move out of their reptilian brains and recognize that they are wrapped by a boa constrictor. They, too, strut like cowboys and do not see how they castrate themselves. Cartoon worthy? Or simply too sad to stop and think about?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VINE

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Cartoon Possibilities [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Call it self-preservation. With the inspiration of MM, I am compiling a mountain of cartoon ideas borne of the laugh-or-cry idiocracy currently sweeping away the nation. There seems to be no bottom to the inanity of the red-hat cult and those that they’ve elevated to power.

The abundance of comic fodder spewing forth from overly sincere conservative faces has me meditating on what makes them both so horrific and so funny. It is this: they ignore – and expect us to ignore –Occam’s Razor. The Principle of Parsimony: It’s a good rule of thumb, if sanity is the goal, to seek the simplest explanation. It is usually the best. If insanity is the aim, seek conspiracy theories and complex machinations.

Take, for instance, the fires in California. Jewish Space Lasers meet unraked forests? Or, perhaps rising global temperatures and drought are to blame? The first requires a reliance on science-fiction and a multi-layer-cake of ill-intent, stupidity and bigotry. The second relies on science. And common sense.

Or, consider this snicker-worthy intrigue: Did the COVID-19 vaccine included microchips capable of tracking people? Or, was it protecting citizens from a raging pandemic? Again, the first requires a madcap sci-fi dystopian fantasy. Occum’s Razor would have us tip toward the reality of science responding to the pandemic. (note: if you use a cell phone or shop on line, there’s no need to vaccinate a chip into your body since you are infinitely locate-able. Google maps already knows where you are since getting you from point A to point B requires, well, knowing where you are…).

The red hats are awash in conspiracy theories. The fox revels in fueling the fantastic and muddling the minds of the easily led. In my comic-thought the actual red hats are lined with tin-foil to protect their brains from alien mind control. That, and better ham radio reception.

I suppose if human beings are capable of believing that the earth is flat, that climate change is a hoax, that the massacre of children at Sandy Hook Elementary was a scam, that Democrats are drinking baby’s blood beneath the streets of Washington D.C…they are also capable of believing in the big boogeyman, the Deep State. It’s the reason we’re been force-fed for the dismantling of our Democracy. Woke waste and fraud! George Soros secretly controlling the world’s economy! Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!

It is worthy of cartooning and lampooning. Or a good cry.

This just in from historian Heather Cox Richardson: “…the relative stability of American democracy in the late twentieth century allowed politicians to win office with the narrative that the government was stifling individualism, taking money from hardworking taxpayers to provide benefits to the undeserving…But the Trump administration’s massive and random cuts to the federal workforce are revealing that the narrative of government waste does not line up with reality.

Does not line up with reality. Occum’s Razor. It’s the simplest explanation for how we find ourselves in an era dominated by lies and lunacy. It’s a rich (and increasingly sad) field of cartooning possibilities.

read Kerri’s blogpost on THE CLOUD

an oldie from the archives at Flawed Cartoon International

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Serve Chicken [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

“As wealth moved upward, lawmakers chipped away at the postwar government that defended democracy. And now, since the inauguration of President Donald Trump on Monday, the dismantling of that system is happening all at once.” ~ Historian Heather Cox Richardson, Letters From an American January 24, 2025

All this week, in honor of the nation’s Republicans, we served chicken to our guests. But not just any chicken, we offered rubber chicken as sustenance.* The kind of chicken used in jokes. The kind without bones, particularly spines. I’d suggest a change in the Republican Party mascot since a chicken would seem more appropriate than an Elephant, but I just read that both mascots were the invention of cartoonist, Thomas Nast. It’s from his name that we have the word “nasty”.* Get this:

“It’s a little weird that both of the major American political parties have embraced their mascots so enthusiastically, considering how poorly the two animals come across in Nast’s original cartoons: how stupid, how pliable, how easily confused.” ~ Jackson Arn, Artsy, Why Democrats are Donkeys and Republicans are Elephants (republished by CNN)

Stupid. Pliable. Easily confused.

Appropriate. And utterly exhausting.

*I lied. “Nasty” doesn’t come from “Nast.” I lied again. We didn’t serve rubber chicken. But, in this brave new world, my newly found dedication to lying-about-everything makes me not only eligible but very attractive for high public office.

read Kerri’s blogpost about EXHAUSTING

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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Flawed [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Over time I have grown more and more fond of our cartoon, “Flawed.” It was initially a collaboration between Kerri, 20, and me and was the source of great hope (we attempted to syndicate it) and many giggles. It was also the origin of our Wednesday melange posts: the prompt for Not So Flawed Wednesday was a Flawed Cartoon.

I noticed that writing and drawing a cartoon transforms you into a dedicated ethnographer. It necessitates paying attention to the world unfolding around you. It transforms you into a collector of the beautifully ridiculous.

The material has to come from somewhere. While we were producing Flawed, we’d move through our days with paper and pencil at the ready or we’d whip out our phone, add a note, send an email or text to ourselves. “What’d-ya see?” was a regular question. Everything was fodder for Flawed. A simple trip to the grocery store became a rich expedition for cartoon possibilities.

While hyper-focused on the actions playing out all around us, one thing became abundantly clear: people are flawed. Thank goodness. All of us are pushing our individual carts through life, gathering our stuff, stacking our importance, wishing other people would get out of our way – until we need them – and then we are grateful for their assistance. We rarely see that we are shopping together, all sharing the same store, the same road, all attending to our aloneness in the midst of abundant and ubiquitous support.

No one is perfect. No one has answers to the big questions. No one is free of flaws or quirks or trespasses or cracked-yearnings. It’s possible that our flaws are what bind us. Wabi-sabi. We are kintsugi held together, made better and stronger by the pure gold of our imperfections. That was – that is – the idea behind Flawed Cartoon.

A few Flawed Cartoon Designs on Society6

read Kerri’s blogpost about FLAWED

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Look Both Ways [on DR Thursday]

I love our smack-dab cartoon. In a cartoon, dogs can talk, people can transmogrify, we can laugh at the worst of ourselves and reveal the best of ourselves. In other words, anything is possible. I think that’s why cartooning has long been an aspect of Kerri and my relationship. Anything is possible.

Our first cartoon idea popped up when we were punchy on a roadtrip. We asked a “what if” question. What if we’d met earlier in life and had children. What would we have named our little pot roast? Miles of hilarity ensued because we landed on Chicken Marsala. Our boy Chicken was born and for the rest of the trip, the voice of our imaginary child chimed in with commentary about his parents. We submitted five rounds of Chicken Marsala cartoons to the syndicates. Chicken strips and single panel Chicken nuggets (clever, no?). The imaginary child of two artists who met late in life. What a great premise! Especially since the two artists were hot messes and the child was grounded, capable of scaring them into sensibility and taunting them into play. Idealists, all.

It used to be that when I asked a “what if” question I zoomed into the outer reaches of inner space. That’s still true though now I have a second, equally powerful path to imagination. Look close-in at the miracle shapes of plants. Look close-in at the worlds at play all around us. I give full credit to Kerri’s compulsion to photograph minutiae. “Lookit!” she proclaims and shows me a miracle image. I’ve picked up the pattern. I rarely photograph what I see but I am just as apt to look close-in as I am to fly into the Netherworld. I am on a daily basis gobsmacked by color or texture or shape or sound or smell or taste of this amazing world. Look at the lavender! Just look! No, really. Slow down and look.

This morning I read a definition of imagination: thinking that is not bound by real world constraints. I wanted to add this: senses that are capable of experiencing real world detail.

It’s a great polarity, the spectrum of potential between “anything is possible” and “I never could have imagined it.” Chicken tried to tell us to look both ways but, you know, it’s harder than you think to listen to your imaginary child, especially when they understand more about life than you ever will.

my perpetually almost but not quite as yet incomplete holding pen of a website

read Kerri’s blogpost about LAVENDER

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Follow Your North Star [on KS Friday]

We are on a hummingbird watch. There’s an app that plots their migration. They’ve been spotted to the north of us.The little hummingbird symbols on the map show a veritable cavalry of hummingbirds approaching from the south. Our hummingbird feeders are poised and ready, filled with sugar water. Gay, Jay, and Kerri have an agreement: the first to spot a hummingbird in their yard gets a celebratory margarita.

One of my heroes, my great-aunt Dorothy, had multiple hummingbird feeders on her mountaintop yard. I remember sitting in the sun watching the hummingbird posse dart from feeder to feeder. Dorothy’s little plot of grass was a magical place. Blue bottles caught the sun, special rocks glittered, Poncho the dog lazed in the shade, Del’s old army jeep teetered on the edge of the abyss. A ride in the jeep was certain to take us up the mountain into wild, unimaginable adventure.

They did not live in the world of hurry-up and get-there. Their world was the opposite. They were not trying to be-somewhere-else. They designed their lives on experiencing the here-and-now. Their intention was to appreciate-the-fullness-of-this-moment. It was the only place in my childhood, other than my studio/bedroom, that made sense, though it’s taken me a lifetime to recognize why.

They didn’t split themselves. They chose simple living over anxious striving. When I was young I often looked at Dorothy and wanted to know what she knew, wanted to live as she lived. I loved taking walks through the mountain trails with her. I’ve only recently recognized that Kerri and I walk as Dorothy walked. Slowly. Open to what crosses our path and calls our attention. We are capable of walking the same trail each day and experiencing it anew each time.

My north star has been there all along, even in the times when I jumped into the race because it was what I thought I was supposed to do. Yesterday, I went into my upstairs office, sat at my drafting table, and drew cartoons, modifying scripts generated from chatGPT. “I can’t continue to just apply for positions,” I told myself, “I have to do something different as well.” Cartoons.

I laughed. I was full-to-overflowing with ideas. I’ve not been so happy in weeks. Something different; something sane. Something now.

This morning, while I washed dishes, I gazed out the kitchen window, watching for the hummingbirds. I remembered something Susan said to us at breakfast last week: your yard is a sanctuary. She told us that she makes a pilgrimage to our yard each year to recharge. Our yard is like Del and Dorothy’s mountaintop, not by accident, but through intention. It is the place we sit-in-the-here-and-now. To rejuvenate. To enjoy the chipmunk colony living in Barney-the-piano, the chatter of the squirrels, that flash of the cardinals. To await with great anticipation the arrival of the first hummingbird.

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes & streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about TINY FEATHERS

i didn’t know/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

Embrace The Mix [on Merely A Thought Monday]

mirepoix: a mixture of sautéed chopped vegetables used in sauces.

mélange: a mixture; a medley.

“The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.” ~ Rainier Maria Rilke

If Rainier were here right now I’d tell him to shut up. Who wants a buzz-kill poet spilling simple truth all over an otherwise good start to the day? The least he could do is wait until I’ve finished my coffee.

Yesterday was harsh. Well, okay, it was also good. And, okay, okay…sometimes great. I woke up stuck under a dark cloud. If I drew myself as a cartoon I’d have a raincloud pouring rain over my head in every panel. Well, until we took a long walk in the cold. My fingers started to sting. For reasons I can’t explain, stinging fingers made us laugh and laughter made the cartoon rain stop. The cartoon cloud was still there though the weather report improved. And then there was the 10pm concert with Barker. What a treat! We watched until the streaming was interrupted at 1:20am, but by that time I was thrilled and filled with music and with no hint of cloud-cover.

When we awoke this morning with a too-late-night-hang-over, Kerri called us, “Dirty stay-ups.”

“What’s a dirty stay-up?” I exclaimed (okay, I was too tired to exclaim. It was more of a croak or whine but that’s not the point).

“Us,” was her one-word answer that convinced me I’d better get some coffee going or it was going to be a day of one word answers.

Among humanity’s greatest achievements is denial. Denial is why we also invented poetry. If it hurts, at least make it sound pretty and pretend that it’s not as bad as you know it is.

Take that, Rainer!” A well-deserved early morning pre-coffee-poet-dis! I’m capable of spilling some hard truth even as I’m right in the middle of being defeated by greater and greater things! And, I have to say, as a recent dirty stay-up, with not yet enough caffeine in my veins, and with one word responses coming to my every question, I can say with conviction that this, too, will be a mirepoix of a day.

Thank goodness.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MIREPOIX

Dream [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Sleep is hit or miss in our house. If it’s a miss for one, it’s a miss for all. Synchronized sleeping is rare.

Last night, Kerri woke me at 12:45. “I’m-up-you-up?” We ate snacks. We talked. Our midnight conversation lasted until 4am. In case you’re wondering, important stuff arises when talking through the night.

The downside of world-class-deep-night-chat is that morning arrives and it’s brutal. Coffee is not a luxury. I immediately invoke the no-power-tools rule. It’s important, when sleep deprived, to stay away from sharp objects or motor-driven-blades.

It’s good thing I don’t work in construction. These days I’d get very little accomplished.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DREAMS

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

Use Your Fingers [on DR Thursday]

They call them life lessons because they cycle back again and again. Each successive cycle peels off another layer and reveals a new simplicity. Currently, I am having another layer peeled.

My layer is a renewed appreciation and deeper understanding of a famous Picasso quote: “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” I think I may be shedding some dedicated self-importance and a thick-headed notion of what I ought to be. What I should have been.

I am surrounded by paintings of my own making. They are serious stuff! They are meant to move people and mountains. Some make me smile. Most make me knit my brow. They are generally absent of fun.

I’ve taken a vacation from my serious pursuit and thank goodness! In the meantime, I’m drawing cartoons. And, most importantly, I am painting rocks. We are painting rocks. No thought. No necessity. Just because we can. It is the most fun I’ve had in years.

It is the fun, the complete abandonment of taking-myself-too-seriously that may bring me back to art-as-play. Fun at my easel.

I have fingers so there may or may not be brushes involved.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FISH!

snowflake with possibilities/flawed cartoon © 2016 david robinson, kerri sherwood, john kruse

Mind The Monsters [on saturday morning smack-dab]

When you are a child, the monsters rustle around under the bed. When you are an adult, the monsters swim around in your mind when you can’t sleep. I much preferred the monsters under the bed. They were more direct in their threat. No one wants to be eaten.

Kerri has many more monster-mind nights than I do. She generally frets her way to dawn. Even though I know better, even though I already know the answer, each morning I ask, “How did you sleep?” She gives me that look, so I ask my standard follow-up question, “I wonder why you aren’t sleeping?”

I already know the answer to that question, too. I ask it anyway because she will respond, “I don’t know.” We chat about it. We make up excuses: wine, we ate too late,…

The real reason? Mind monsters.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MONSTERS

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com