I illustrated two versions of essentially the same joke for the last of the Mean 16 cartoons. Both are based on the idea of the Terminator not being exactly thrilled by all the Terminator sequels. In one, he uses the plot device of going back in time to stop the creation of the sequels themselves. The other is a more of a flat out tribute to my favorite cartoonist, Jules Feiffer, and his character the “Dancer” that appeared so many times while his work published in The Village Voice from 1956 to 1997. What can I say, I wish I was Jules Feiffer.
What started out as a quiet life of making the leather trinkets for the local of Pentecostal preacher quickly turned into donning a mask made out of human skin and murdering pesky teenagers. And so a legend was born. But through it all Leatherface never felt artistically fulfilled, and his inner voice called out to him to be more than a footnote in the annals of maniac serial killers. And with no logical place to turn, Leatherface turned to the one thing place where logic does not exist, the art world.
And it was here, where Leatherface grew from penniless no one with a chainsaw to the art scene’s darling with a chainsaw, lining up commissions along the way faster than the artist could carve a possum from a Texas Blackgum tree.
After killing most of the student body at her high school prom and impaling her mother with kitchenware, Carrie turned her focus to standup comedy, in an effort to mask the pain.
And after years of working open mics nights in drunken dives Carrie moved up to paying comedy gigs. This transition was thanks in large part to her indecipherable delivery, which eventually convinced everyone that she must be a genius, because why else would anyone ever perform the exact same routine for almost 40 years.