Below is the latest The Pain -- When Will It End?
Absolutely no time for an artist’s statement this week as I failed to finish the major writing project I had to finish last week and now cannot do anything except work on it. So I’ll just give quick thanks to Jenny Boylan, author of the just-released memoir I Can See Through You: Growing Up Haunted, who suggested “My Stimulus Package” as a premise over a $400 dinner at Chanterelle’s, where we got sloppy drunk on eight different courses of wine and cognac and laughed 'til we snorted shot glasses of fancy delicate little soup through our noses. (Sorry, Jenny, that I didn’t use “New Economy Now Ribbed, for Her Pleasure!” I would’ve if it had made a good double-entendre but, like, what exactly is a “ribbed economy”?) The New Yorker featured this same joke in a cartoon in this week’s issue. Their “take” on the theme provides an instructive contrast between their aesthetic and my own.
My old friend Jack Prichard makes his debut in the last panel this week, because he is the person I know most likely to explain to you in detail the foolproof genius of spending a billion dollars in order to win five million. Lest anyone object that I am impugning the native intelligence of the poorest 1% in this panel, I will point out that Jack's lotto scheme makes no less sense than subprime mortgage lending.