This is part two of a collection of my favorite coronavirus Grim Reaper cartoons. The Reaper (or “Death” for short) is a standard cliché for editorial cartoonists; he is a character that belongs to every cartoonist, like, Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty and the donkey and elephant …
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This is part one of a collection of my favorite coronavirus Grim Reaper cartoons. The Reaper (or “Death” for short) is a standard cliché for editorial cartoonists; he is a character that belongs to every cartoonist, like, Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty and the donkey and elephant …
Thank you so much for all of your support for Cagle.com! We have a long way to go to meet our goal of making Cagle.com entirely reader supported. If you enjoy the cartoons, please consider making a contribution! The pandemic is hitting us our business hard and we can only continue running Cagle.com with your support.
Please forward this email to your friends – tell them our Cagle.com email newsletters are FREE and FUN! They can join the newsletter list at Cagle.com/subscribe.
This is part two of our collection of the best cartoons about Dr. Anthony Fauci, President Trump’s expert on infectious diseases who has become a familiar face and cartoon character. Gotta love the doc. Don’t miss Dr Fauci PART 1.
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Dr. Anthony Fauci, President Trump’s expert on infectious diseases, has become a familiar face at the frequent, White House coronavirus news conferences –however he seems to be appearing less and less at these events as scientists don’t seem very comfortable working alongside the president. Fauci is an omnipresent TV presence and, more and more, a cartoon character. Here is part one of two collections of the best of our Dr. Fauci cartoons. Be sure to visit Dr Fauci PART 2.
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Here is part two of our disinfectant injection and sunlight cartoons –just in time for this story to fade away, while the coronavirus keeps hanging around.
Editorial cartoons are an important part of journalism and the world needs political cartoonists more now than ever!
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Last Thursday America was fascinated to see President Trump pushing one of his medical experts to conduct research on crazy and harmful proposed cures for COVID-19, including drinking or injecting toxic disinfectants and shining light inside the body. I got emails from quacks pushing bleach pills soon after Trumps spectacle. This scary nonsense led to lots of cartoons –see the best of the batch below, with a second installment tomorrow as these cartoons are still coming in.
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Here are the ten most popular cartoons of the week (April 18 -25).
I wanted to write about how much I appreciate your messages of support since we started our crowd-funding effort to support Cagle.com. Usually our email consists of complaints from readers who disagree with cartoons –often demanding apologies or demanding that I punish or fire cartoonists, or that I remove the cartoons that readers find offensive, disagreeable or wrong. I guess it is the negative nature of the internet.
But with our fund raising campaign I’m getting charming, kind words from lots of readers about how much they enjoy the cartoons and how they look forward to getting their Cagle.com newsletter in their email box every day. It is a Bizarro world that has flipped my email box from nasty to lovely, as I’m hearing from our normally silent fans. It warms my heart!
We still need much more support to keep the cartoons coming as so many of our troubled newspaper clients have fallen behind in paying their bills. We’re also facing a big increase in hacker attacks now. (I apologize for the annoying pages on Cagle.com that make you wait a few seconds while Cloudflare checks your IP address to make sure you’re a real person and not just another “denial-of-service” attack.)
Support from our fans can make the all the difference as the pandemic/newspaper-crash threatens to kill our profession. Editorial cartoons are an important part of journalism and the world needs political cartoonists more now than ever. Please consider supporting Cagle.com and visit Cagle.com/heroes.
Thanks for your generosity!
The most popular cartoon of the week was this one by David Fitzsimmons.
The number two spot is held by this cartoon from John Cole.
The third most popular cartoon is this gem from Dave Whamond.
The next seven round out the top ten this week. Dave Granlund has a whopping THREE cartoons in the top ten.
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Remember Joe Biden? The presidential election? No? Not a problem –we have your Joe Biden cartoons that nobody noticed! Here is PART TWO of our collection of recent, favorite Biden cartoons. See yesterday’s FORGOTTEN BIDEN – PART 1 cartoons
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With all eyes on the pandemic there are very few cartoons being drawn about the presidential election. Trump still dominates cartoons, along with nasty coronavirus monster-balls, but poor Joe Biden has become almost invisible. I thought I would scour the database for nice, recent Biden cartoons, and there were enough for only two posts of Biden cartoons. Here they are, the recent Biden cartoons, with part two tomorrow.
We may end up re-electing Trump simply because we all forgot that there is a presidential election this year.
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No coronavirus cartoons today (you should go to Cagle.com for that). My legendary cartoonist buddy Randy Enos shares another story about his early days as a cartoonist.
We had all heard the stories, of course, but we didn’t really believe them. So, when I graduated from the 5th grade at the Merrimac Street School in 1946 and was about to start at the Parker Street School, I went with no real idea about the awful terrors I, and my doomed classmates were about to encounter.
Life at Merrimac had been sweet and carefree. Behind the medieval- looking building, there was a nice little playground. I envied my best friend Ottello because he lived but a few strides across the street. He could wake up late and just saunter over to school, whereas I had to often brave snowstorms that pushed so hard on my little body as I crossed the Common that many times I almost gave up to go back to my warmhouse.
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Each morning all the classrooms assembled in the halls, upstairs and down, as we pledged allegiance to the flag. An old Victrola was hand cranked. The little wooden doors on its base were openedand the creaky sounds of The Star Spangled Banner wafted up the stairway to our young ears. Ah, the good ol’ days… we’d soon be missing them … very … very … soon.
I went on through the 6th grade at Parker St. School and then it happened. In the 7th and 8th grade, for the first time we had a home room and went off to other rooms for other classes. My home room was my English class. I had a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Brown, who happened to live in my neighborhood . I would see her sometimes sitting on her front porch rocker.
Across the hall was my history/geography class presided over by a viciously cruel and petty teacher… the absolute WORST teacher in the New Bedford school system known all over town by kids who didn’t even go to this school … the infamous, BULLDOG BENNET!
Parker St. School
She was very short and squat with a pile of grey hair on her head and squinty slanted eyes and a face that looked EXACTLY like a bulldog. She had a permanent scowl. We never saw her smile. We came to think that she wasn’t even capable of smiling. Almost everyone in class was in terror of her and kids could be seen visibly shaking as they entered her class every day. Of course there were a few goody- good “teacher’s pets” who sailed through the two years unscathed, but certainly not your humble narrator. I got insanely awful grades. My father, a former dirt-poor immigrant kid who had never attended school in his whole life, was a stickler for me getting good grades (which I did achieve in Geometry, surprise surprise) and English. But, fortune, never the less, shined down on me due to the fact that Miss Bennet was an ardent right-wing, very outspoken bigot and snob. My father was an ardent Socialistic union man who loved Roosevelt. When my dad heard my terror tales of the horrors going on in my history and geography class, he forgave my bad grades … PHEW!He hated her as much as I did.
She loved to embarrass us kids in class. One time she made us stand and tell what church we went to. I was a product of an atheist household without benefit of a religion so I had to make up a lie about going to some Portuguese church to avoid the obvious confrontation that would have ensued. Anything she could pick on with a kid-victim was fodder for her seething, snarling scorn. Each day she would feed us her political propaganda woven into the history and geography lesson and I would report it back home to dad.
My home room, with the wonderful Mrs. Brown, was my safe haven. One day, knowing my interest in becoming an artist, she asked if I would like to undertake a mural for the classroom. It was to go all the way around the room except for the front blackboards which were used for the lessons. For some reason we were blessed with blackboards on the sides and back of the room. Supplied with colored chalks, I decided I would create a detailed jungle masterpiece peopled with parrots, monkeys, vines and colorful flowers. Sometimes Mrs. Brown would excuse me from the regular class involvement (remember I got good grades in English) to work on my project while the other poor slobs had to recite and compose and read. I loved my mural commission and really got lost in the jungle, inventing the swooping branches, vines and flora that housed my acrobatic monkeys and wildly colorful parrots. I’d stay late in class after school often to work on it.
One day, as I was engaged in my artistic endeavor with only Mrs. Brown at her desk, I became aware of another presence in the room. I turned slowly around to see the awful Bulldog Bennet standing in the doorway glowering at me. Time stopped dead as she spoke … “If he spent half the time attending to his lessons as he does to his art, he’d probably make something of himself!” By Mrs. Brown’s expression and the comments, she made at that point, I could tell that she shared my dislike for our neighbor across the hall.
Bennet went on for those two years bragging that when she was a schoolgirl she would weep if she got only an A, instead of an A+. She would invite the two or three girls who were her favorites to her house for tea and then, the next day, tell us all what fun they all had.
When we all finally graduated to New Bedford High School it was like a deadly curse had been lifted from our battered psyches.
Years and years later, after I was well into my illustration and cartooning career and my mother had died and my father had retired and was doing volunteer work for the Red Cross, he told me that he was regularly taking residents of a nursing home for drives in his car just so they could get out and around a little. He said, “You’ll never guess who is one of my regular ladies … Bulldog Bennet! He said that she was a little shriveled and quite senile version of her old self. He also told me that he always stopped somewhere to buy the ladies an ice cream cone on their trips. He said that the only thing he would ever hear out of her little high, squeaky, cracked voice was… ” Ice cream … ice cream … ice cream!”
And, so, that’s the way it ended for the infamous Bulldog Bennet … a tiny pitiful voice pleading to my dad “Ice cream … ice cream … ice cream!”
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