These days I measure how much brain power I’m losing by the number of New Yorker cartoons I don’t get. And we’ve set a record -- hit a new high, or rather a new low, with the current issue. Take this one: the men on the left-hand bench are having no luck trying to feed the ducks, who scurry to the bareheaded man on the back bench. Caption says “You can't compete with a retired pharmacist.”
In the past, when I still had all my wits, I’d assume a puzzling cartoon probably referred to some current
situation. After all, when they named that magazine The
New Yorker, they weren’t thinking about Manhattan . So maybe there’s a scandal in Buffalo Brooklyn about a retired
pharmacists who’s dealing drugs? Would
someone let me know?
But with this issue I set a record. Take this next one; Evidently the Bogeyman has a shrewish wife, whom we can’t see, and she’s complaining that he doesn’t run the vacuum. But why is she upset about that, when that bedroom is in perfect order? Why are we in a bedroom altogether? Can someone please explain?
Seventeen pages later, we find ourselves on a subway train. Husband says “Everyone just relax while my wife figures out what’s in her eye” and indeed she is poking at an eye. Oh – wait a minute! It's hard to tell -- has the husband has just pulled the emergency cord? And is that the joke? Do you suppose?
Then on page 110, we find this one – “Steve invalidates his wedding vows through the clever use of homophones.” That one, of course, sent me to the Internet for a definition of homophones, and we do see, if we look closely at that whispered caption, that Steven's response is "Eye dew."
And on page 126, the most baffling one of all. These creatures are dismantling what? A tank? Why? Or is it a Moon Rover? They’ve set it up on cement blocks and they’re stealing the metal tires? Are we on Mars? I'll bet this one really IS a
Maybe Upstaters aren't meant to read that magazine at all.