Below is the latest The Pain -- When Will It End?
Updated 8/31/05

Artist's Statement

Often Thursday night, the night before deadline, finds my colleague Emily Flake and myself lying on the floors of our respective homes, in the dark and on the phone, despairing of ever thinking up anything funny again and begging each other for inspiration. For over a year now we've been talking about swapping cartoons someday--she drawing an installation of The Pain one week while I draw her Lulu Eightball. As we only overlap in one paper this would be puzzling to most readers, but it is our perogative as artists to say, on occasion,audience comprehension be damned and have a little self-referential fun. However, Emily pays little attention to current events and, like me, also suffers a chronic drought of inspiration until the last possible minute and seemed unlikely ever to come through with her end of the bargain. I, meanwhile, actually drew my Lulu Eightball cartoon during idle moments on vacation in Idaho this July, so I was all ready to go. This week I had 1.) a dearth of any good ideas for political cartoons and 2.) houseguests all week, so I asked Emily whether she might be ready to do the Ol' Switcheroo. She finally confessed: "I am woefully under-equipped in the brain department for political matters. You're talking to a lady who has lost her passport, even though she is supposed to go to Canada tonight." So, since I spent Friday running around buying seafood and beer and fixing a flat, even, I decided to go ahead to run this and call it an homage to Emily to honor the release of her first collection of cartoons, Lulu Eightball, available at But now that her book's been named #1 on Entertainment Weekly's "Must" list and I rue the day I ever gave her any free publicity, the impudent little upstart punk.

Jim's cardiologist really was named Dr. Fury. Once when a bunch of Jim's friends were visiting him in his hospital room Dr. Fury stopped in for a brief consultation, and after he left we all commented:
"He seems really nice."
"He's tall."
"Good-looking guy."
Finally our friend Myra exclaimed, "What the hell? You guys all have crushes on Dr. Fury?"

All kidding aside, my cat may well be the most attractive cat in the world. A friend of mine once called her "a supermodel cat." She has black cat mascara outlining her green eyes. A little pink nose with exquisitely fine-pebbled nose leather. O so languorous. So sleek. So plush and soft and pleasant to touch. Who is the pozzle? Who is the pumalu? O mu. Mu. What? Ha, ha!. Nothing.

About the U.S.S. Enterprise 1701-D, I think, the less said the better.

The last panel was drawn from life in Idaho. I don't think it would behoove me to identify the models. They know who they are.

Back to politics next week, everyone. Summer's almost over.


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