Judging from the appearance of this simple Sunday cartoon from May, 2007, I was in a hurry when I drew it. Believe it or not, it happens. Its saving grace is the joke, though; I like it. It’s humorous and—I like to think—original. That’s what you shoot for. Many times over my career, I’ve had conversations with people who ask a variation of the question, “So, you could, like, draw six months ahead and take six months off?!” Technically, the answer is, Yes. The question almost always is asked with the breath of incredulity, and I know they’re wishing they could work that way. Perhaps they could. I can’t. I can’t get so much as a week ahead, and I do try. For 30 years, I have tried. At least I am reconciled to the fact that’s the way it is. I’m just lucky to have this gig at all.
More Computer-Generated Humor
By Jimmy Johnson
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221 responses to “More Computer-Generated Humor”
Nothing like the urgency of a deadline to get the creative juices flowing. My wife has the same issue with her books. No deadline often means little writing done!
My father was a syndicated columnists, writing six columns a week for most of his career. He managed to take vacations (and sick time) by writing what’s called “shelf columns” – bits and pieces of his opinion that weren’t as timely as his regular, newsy fare. (Newspaper editors could “keep them on the shelf” in case of mail delays – remember those? – or unexpected illness etc.)
He also persuaded some famous and not-so-famous friends and family to write “guest” columns. But with his column being primarily news-oriented, he never took more than two weeks or so off.
Maybe you should get going on the “guest cartoonist” bandwagon, JJ!
I would imagine there are still some mail delays, such as when a big storm hits and power is out for several days. Although I suppose you could just get into the car and drive to some Wifi-enabled coffee shop.
Funny JJ! I used to tell my husband’s customers to poke him with a sharp pencil if they needed too.
Mark, who did your father write for? Have always loved columnists and still have a few friends writing them.
I actually have this strip as one of my rotating screen savers at work
Jackie – My father, Andrew Tully, wrote Potomac Patter for the Scripps-Howard Papers in the 50s and 60s, National Whirligig for Bell-McLure Syndicate in the 60s, and Capital Fare for McNaught Syndicate in the 70s and 80s, retiring in the late 80s.
Boise Ed, as my SO has proved on several occasions it is much easier to find a Wifi connected McDonalds. They live about every third exit on the I system and have a better menu.
Back home; all went as expected, if not better. Vision in right eye is blurry but that’s undoubted from all the drops put into them this morning to dilate and numb them. But it already seems it’s going to do well.
And, ah, Jackie…no…panties? Well, okay. Not the message I expected on the way to surgery, but it surely distracted me from what was about to happen. And thanks for the size bulletin. As your unofficial weight coach, you realize you will now have to keep me undated on that. 😉
If that offends you, remember…I’m still on drugs. 😀
Deadlines are such wonderful things. I just love the big WHOOSH! they make as they go past.
Checking in, my weight coach isn’t going to be happy but I just ate a fried oyster poboy at Dupuys Oyster house and yes, I ate the French bread. No sides. Fastest thing they do. Going back tonight for either grilled or baked on half she’ll before I head home. Open since 1869, hope that guy I recommended the grilled oysters to likes them! He was asking for grilled fish.
Off to look at boat, overcast and raining.
Live to entertain, life long habit. Get well all of yall.
Love Jackie
P.S. loaned my truck to pet sitter who is truly tiny. She said it was like
Driving a semi compared to her mini car. Neighbor finally called out of no sinews to find out if gypsies had taken over the kingdom like Jimmy Buffet sings about. Gypsies In The Castle. Love it.
Checking in, my weight coach isn’t going to be happy but I just ate a fried oyster poboy at Dupuys Oyster house and yes, I ate the French bread. No sides. Fastest thing they do. Going back tonight for either grilled or baked on half she’ll before I head home. Open since 1869, hope that guy I recommended the grilled oysters to likes them! He was asking for grilled fish.
Off to look at boat, overcast and raining.
Live to entertain, life long habit. Get well all of yall.
Love Jackie
P.S. loaned my truck to pet sitter who is truly tiny. She said it was like
Driving a semi compared to her mini car. Neighbor finally called out of no sinews to find out if gypsies had taken over the kingdom like Jimmy Buffet sings about. Gypsies In The Castle. Love it.
Back to trucks again? My lady just got back from FL late yesterday and due to Subaru malfunction had to take the F150 to get her from the airport. So I asked her today if you could have any truck at all what would you take? F150 4X4 extended cab 8 foot bed was the answer. Why? Because our current one is faithful, and a 4X4 would be better in winter, and I can haul full size sheets of plywood and paneling in the bed. Camper top too? Yup. So it continues.
Jackie, oyster poboys are so scrumptious that your Unofficial Weight Coach will grant you a one-time dispensation for eating one, providing you have the grilled oysters this evening and think of him while you are slurping them down.
I love grilled oysters! Many years ago I enjoyed eating grilled oysters at my oldest sister’s house near Parris Island (brother-in-law was a Marine drill sergeant [gunny]). We had a bushel of oysters, oven mitts, and oyster knives. We cooked individually, standing around the barbeque scooping the oysters off the grilll, popping open with the knife, then dipping in a little sauce or straight off the sauce. I had a butter sauce with Tobasco that I remember was especially good. The hickory smoke with the charcoal added a nice flavor.
That was the same trip that I went to a John Denver concert in Savanna with a Marine corporal. The concert was good, my date was cute, but I don’t think the Marine was impressed with the newly graduated high school senior. I’d guess she went with us as a favor to the gunny.
Second “sauce”=shell
An edit, an edit, my kingdom for an edit!
The only way I could ever eat oysters was fried. Just looking at the raw variety makes me think of the joke about the world’s bravest man being the first to eat a raw oyster. I’m Southern, I want my seafood cooked. Off the grill sounds good too, anything smoked is usually excellent. Butter up your french bread, wrap it in foil and throw it on the upper rack for a few minutes. MMM, it picks up the smoke flavor and also the taste of whatever you are cooking.
Boat is fantastic, owner is indeed oil man and owner of another legendary southern company and very much married. But all I after is the boat and this one is beyond perfect.
Very traditional, lots of wood where it counts and gelco. Never saw a cleaner bilge and engine. What is it this phone doesn’t send what you type,
Heading back to Monroe and lawyer’s tonight but still hope of oysters, perhaps not in famous 150 year old oyster house.
Coming back In April.
I never quite got this one. What is the implied antecedent of Janis’ “they”? It wouldn’t make sense to think of Arlo [or of any husband or male] as coming with a screen-saver.
She means men who sit silently paying no attention and saying nothing as Arlo is.
CE-P: I think she was talking to Arlo, and he started “resting his eyes,” so she had to wake him up just like one does when the computer screen “rests” and the screensaver comes on. So, yes, Arlo’s eyes are the metaphoric screensaver.
I had a hard time with this strip when it ran originally. I see the idea of it now, but that metaphor is stretched about as far as it will go — and then some. Boise Ed comes the closest to making sense. We have never used a screensaver; maybe that’s why I didn’t get the joke. Our son Bill, the energy-saving engineer, advised us, when we got our first computer, to simply turn off the screen whenever we got up and left the desk. The on/off button will not wear out, and we’ll save electricity. And the dark screen is restful to the eyes and unobtrusive (my opinion, not Bill’s; I don’t know how he feels about that.)
Dear Jackie Monies, I am glad to know that all is well with you; you are having a good time, seeing boats, meeting new people, eating tasty, healthy food. Makes all your friends here feel good!
FYI.
http://www.mprnews.org/story/2015/03/26/star-tribune-moves-to-new-building
The photo of a phone booth may be the most valuable, decades hence. Lovely Art Deco stairway.
Peace, emb
🙂 Referring to a male as a “screensaver” got me all kinds of good-natured grief once upon a time. Back in my factory days, I ran a pair of machines with slightly different cycle times. Fifteen seconds or so isn’t a whole lot of time, but fifteen seconds every forty-five seconds add up over an eight or twelve hour shift. Other shifts hung the paper up on the side of the machine, but nothing irks me more than constant interruptions while reading, so no joy there. I opted to people watch. The guy across the aisle from me ran a drill and a washer – he was in constant motion. If all was quiet in the rest of the aisles, I’d default to watching him. Well, not so much him, but the movement of the parts. He had been on the job for so long, there was no wasted effort, and the parts seemed to float along. Another guy up the line noticed me watching the drill operator. He hollered out something to the effect of checking out drill guy’s backside. (Did I fail to mention his posture while working was much like someone working under the hood of a car?) I hollered back, “No, he’s my screensaver! Something to watch while I’m bored.” Much laughter ensued, with the retort, “OH is *that* what they are calling them these days!” The story spread, and thereafter, much to my chagrin (and occasional delight), one or two fellows a day would come by to waggle their derrieres my way for a “screensaver check.”
Stopped in Alexander, LA for another iced tea. If this place doesn’t have lime or lemon I have my own Florida lime in my purse.