The Coffin Trick

I have many guilty pleasures, but one of my favorites is drawing comics written by master jokesmith, Josh Lieb. I suspect he crafts approximately 2-3 thousand a day, but only one of these gets chosen for his daily substack Cartoons I Can’t Draw, where he offers up free comic ideas for artists to draw. Occasionally, when my own writing wheels get… whatever the opposite of greasy is… I like to pull from Josh’s collection of ideas and send him the result.

On Tuesday I was feeling ungreased (that can’t be right), and so I strode, Croesus-like, to Josh’s Delphi and plucked this gem:

A funeral. Top-hatted magicians and their spangle-clad assistants grieve as the coffin — split into two half-sized coffins — is lowered into the ground.

Inspired, I quickly drew up this comic:

Not too bad, but I felt the gag somehow drifted from the coffin itself to the gathered magicians. Mostly the guy in the ice. Or the mourning straitjacket. Anywhoo, I drew it again, this time with the intention of selling the coffin bit better:

I felt this to be wholly successful, and so I sent it off to Josh.

The Croesus-like Bit

Now, when you draw comics— especially one-off comics derivative of The New Yorker or Playboy style— you’re always in danger of treading the water of others. There’s two ways to protect yourself. You can either (a) read everything everyone has ever written, or (b) read nothing, and maintain plausible deniability that you just didn’t see the comic.

Because I’m a human being with a mortgage, a partner, and a horse-dog, I opt for option b. I just don’t have the time to read everything. I’m technically a children’s book illustrator. I just draw comics for fun. Not to mention I can’t get a subscription to The New Yorker because I live in Philadelphia, so I have to subscribe to The Philadelphian, which is a fictional magazine I’m making up now to land my point. They don’t even have comics. It’s mostly ads for lawyers who use the word ‘Jawn’ to attract clients. I’ve lived in Philadelphia for thirteen years—I’ve never had anyone say jawn to me. But most of my interactions are with parking kiosks, so that’s not too surprising.

Now, here’s the Croesus-like bit of my story. Croesus, if you’re not aware, was an ancient king of Lydia who went to an oracle for advice, and only heard what he wanted to hear, and then invaded Persia. If you’re not up on your ancient history, Persia was the horse-dog of the ancient world, and Lydia was like one of those cutie-patootie breeds with smushed up faces, like a pug or boston terrier. Whatever the analogy, Croesus reached for the stars but ended up pooing his pants, much like myself — because apparently the comic HAD been done before, a caveat Josh clearly made in his post, literally after he wrote the description of the comic. I quote:

I have to assume this has been done before. Has anyone seen it?

Turns out, legendary New Yorker cartoonist Tom Cheney did a version. I’d post it here, but I’m not sure I legally can. And since the best lawyer I can ever hope to find can only manage “My jawn only posted your jawn to make a jawn” as a closing argument, I’ll just share some comics from Six-Penny Anthems, Volume 01, one-hundred percent guaranteed to be originals because no one in their right mind would publish these:

Several comics probably not written by legendary cartoonist Tom Cheney.

Act Three: Kevin Has No Regrets

I worry that I’m painting an overly dramatic picture here. That’s not my intention. I was not harmed in this incident. Josh and I got to play together. Everything worked out great! In fact, I’d draw that comic AGAIN if I thought I could land the joke better. Because Tom Cheney aside, it was an excellent drawing exercise. More often than not, illustration is about restraint. It’s about burying your ego, and being a conduit for someone else’s words. The first comic I drew wasn’t bad—but the goal was to sell the coffin joke, not all my additional gags about magicians. I say I pooed my pants like Croesus, but the reality is I’m proud of myself for pushing through temptation and not just taking the first idea. That’s a lot harder to avoid as you get older, when time comes at a premium. That’s why I don’t play videogames anymore.

This sort of stuff is my videogame.

This, and putting stickers on parking kiosks.

Here’s some portraits of Philadelphians who I haven’t heard say jawn: