Email List for Friends of Jason Love

Whenever Newsletter 7-1

2007-04-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are. Home.

The new website took two years to demolish and rebuild, and most people ask the same question: "What did you change?"

For starters, everything.

Tristan Rawlings, web genius, rebuilt the database and turned everything, including this newsletter, into RSS feeds. We poured over every last word, every filename, even the manner of uploading content, to make Google happy.

And every step of the way, the same question came up: How far do I go in whorring out the content? [Ladies: Do not be offended. I'm talking about male whores.]

We found, after extensive research, that "funny cartoons" would be a good keyword for my website, so now I have a directory called funny-cartoons. Having been in this business a while, I know that nothing makes a cartoon less funny than calling it a funny cartoon.

We also had to replace the Google text ads, which were not serving my long-term goal -- world domination through comedy. So I selected graphic ads that didn't bounce around too much, placed them in border candy, and voila -- camouflaged whorring.

As if I weren't already 300 emails behind schedule, I am now obligated to maintain the Ventura County Star website blog, the Real Life Snapshots (directory: "funny pictures"), and this bloody newsletter.

Still, I get the warm fuzzies every time I log on, and if Tristan weren't Canadian, I'd give him a big ol' kiss.

If you're a competitor looking to rip off our keywords and go head-to-head at the search engines, here is a complete list: funny cartoons, funny pictures, funny sayings, daily cartoons, humor columns, web content, rss feeds, comic strips, , funny, daily, cartoons, pictures, sayings, rss, feeds, free, humor, content, jokes, comics, snapshots, newspaper, cartoonists, columns, writers, original.

Whenever Newsletter 6-2

2006-04-01T14:15:00.000-08:00

Website renovation is underway and causing me to ponder new possibilities. For example, is it time for me to take up smoking? You wouldn't believe how much work goes into a website. All those 0's and 1's have to be just so. In my case, we had to rename 1,600 cartoons. By hand!

The content won't change much. It will be the same hokey, ill-advised humor as before. We'll add a section for "Real Life Snapshots" (photographs with captions), the guestbook will become "The Chatterbox," and the home page will be rearranged to please the Google gods.

In the meantime I continue to receive mail from anxious webmasters. The latest involves a cartoon where the Green Giant stomps on a house that may or may not have been occupied. For fear of litigation, editors want some kind of disclaimer: "No elves were harmed in the making of this cartoon."

If you ask me -- and no one does -- trademark attorneys lack vision. Corporate America needs to learn the cardinal rule of media: "Talk good about me, talk bad about me, so long as you talk about me." Howard Stern could teach a class inside his mansion.

Snapshots is nearing 70 million hits per year ... maybe it's time for the Green Giant to pay us to kill some elves. And for companies to bid on twisted product placement.

We could have a bully take a break from beating up a classmate to rejuvenate with Gatorade. Or Pepsi. Or Mentos -- "The Freshbeater."

Or we could have a man throwing up Cinnamon Schnapps -- Because your vomit never tasted so good ^TM.

I myself am woozy from the overpadded, OSHA-compliant, tamper-resistant, soccer-mom hysteria. Soon we'll just post a sign on the outskirts of town: "Society closed for liability reasons."
So yes, until I receive a summons, Snapshots will have green giants smashing houses, squirrels abducting Mr. Peanut, and Mickey Mouse throwing tantrums as he adjusts to life without heroine ... Behind the Scenes.

And those companies will bid for the privilege. Muahahahaha.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 6-1

2006-03-01T14:14:00.000-08:00

It's been so long since I've done this that I don't remember how. I blame it all on the blog. You wouldn't believe how much blood a blog can suck out of your life.

"I vant to suck your BLOG."

Speaking of vampires, we're revamping the website, which is doing volume traffic despite my general stupidity. The site's outward changes will be minor compared to the underneath. My main man Tristan is reinventing Jason Love while Jason Love takes long weekends in Big Bear. I mean, while Jason writes blogs!
Share Time

My wife took a few pictures for a presentation tentatively called "How a Bill Becomes a Law." Wait. That's Schoolhouse Rock. "How a Note Becomes a Cartoon."

It all starts when I'm in the shower and can't possibly get to paper. That's when the best ideas come. If I remember the note, I jot it down and toss it in a bin labeled ... now stay with me ... "Notes." At the end of the month, I dump the notes on the carpet like so:

(You should see it during a full moon.)

Then the elves -- my wife -- organize the notes by subject:

and those stacks are shipped to a nearby storage facility, otherwise known as the wall closet:

At harvest time, the ideas become cartoons, columns, and blood-sucking blog entries. My primary job is to drink lots of coffee to free up more cans. I've had so much caffeine, I'm developing a stutter.

The big stack contains 1,200+ cartoon ideas, all awaiting judgment. Some will be yeses, some will be maybes, and the rest will be crumpled to death on the spot.

The Chosen Ones are typed up a second time, emailed to Vladimir in Serbia, and then, after addressing such weighty concerns as Which is funnier -- "urine" or "pee"?, we arrive at the finished cartoon, which most people read in two seconds. On a good day, they don't roll their eyes.

Later I color the cartoons in a way that offends my wife, who feels, in her layperson way, that the colors are "scratchy." She prefers creamy colors like the ones being used by my competitors.

You can imagine my pleasure when the homes across the street were finally painted like so...

Snapshots colors come to life! It was like destiny or synchronicity or, according to my wife, general stupidity.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 5-5

2005-12-01T14:14:00.000-08:00

People sometimes ask where I get my ideas. I say that I beat them out of a clown that I keep locked in the basement. The real answer is: I'm not sure; they seem to barge in on their own.

I find, however, that it's possible to call them. I just get as far from earth as possible, preferably during happy hour, and then empty my skull of all the PIN codes and phone numbers and deadlines that never go away not for one moment even while YOU'RE AT THE MOVIES WITH YOUR WIFE.

Like I was saying, empty...

And then, if I stay open to funniness -- whatever that is -- the ideas sneak up from behind. Somebody will say "pipe," which rhymes with "wife," who sometimes wears dolphin shorts, and before you know it I've got a cartoon about serving tuna fish in the dentist's waiting room.

We believe that it's a form of schizophrenia.

If you're still confused, refer to Douglas Adams's instructions on how to fly: "You just sort of fall to the ground and miss."

I'm grateful that the ideas come on their own, but sometimes, when I sit down to The Pile, I wish that I could just beat them out of a clown.

Whenever Newsletter 5-4

2005-09-01T14:14:00.000-07:00

People often email to say hi or tell jokes or share j-pegs of their dog. David Chetham-Strode, who subscribes to the daily cartoon, God help him, sent the following message:

"I've asked that same question of some of the women I've known."

I thought he was responding to some forgotten email until later, in bed, when I remembered that day's cartoon.

My laughter woke up the missus.

Speaking of which, I need to publicly apologize to my wife for, well, everything. She not only lives with the bad jokes and long hours, but I continue to give her the finger. I raise my index finger to shush her so that I can write a note that she herself inspired.

Yahaira doesn't mind that so much as taking dictation. We could fill canyons with the notes she has taken. The problem is that ideas always come when I'm in the shower. Must be something about lathering the naughty places.

"Front!" I yell, shampoo in my eyes.

And there she appears, notepad in hand, the dutiful woman who rues the day she ever said, "I do."

"Front" is a character from Stranger in a Strange Land and -- never mind. The point is that Yahaira's I-do just got worse. Now she has to pull over in the car so that I can snap photographs. They're for a new feature called "Real Life Snapshots," appearing for now in the blog.

Every time we go out, Yahaira has to decide between (a) driving the car knowing that at any moment she may be asked to come to a skidding stop, or (b) taking responsibility for capturing once-in-a-lifetime moments before they slip away forever and it's all her fault.

Someday when I'm accepting the Pulitzer Prize for "Funniest Stuff Happening on the Side of the Road," I will thank Yahaira for making it possible. Unless, of course, she drives us off a cliff before then.

On a side note, does anyone have experience with slide shows? I was thinking about posting a montage of all the Snapshots posing I've done through the years. Vladimir's English keeps getting better, but we still rely on charades. It's easier, for instance, to model "exasperation" than to explain it.

Because I've already doubled my website budget for the year, I'd be asking for a freebie (gulp). You could, of course, work in subliminal ads the way they do on MTV. Or maybe, as a lark, flash pictures of yourself lathering your naughty places.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 5-3

2005-08-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed some changes at jasonlove.com. They represent Stage Two in my plot to take over the world. I am forming with cartoonist Thom Bluemel an alliance called World Domination through Cartooning (WDC). It will entail a lot of laughter and only a highly selective amount of bloodshed.

Changes to the website include:

the addition of "Real Life Snapshots," around-town photographs with the same stupid jokes you've come to expect.

"The Mental Blog," semi-weekly observations about life, the universe, and everything.

a sitemap that may never, ever get posted.

advertisements to fund WDC.

This all follows a Jerry Maguire-like revelation about how to handle business. Instead of spending myself on freelance work, I've come to manage a handful of gifted writers and cartoonists who free me up to run the show. That's what I'm doing right now, running the show.

Finally, for those who haven't nodded off, I am training to spar with a professional boxer for the Ventura County Star. It was going to be Lucia Rijker, the bad girl from Million Dollar Baby, but she went off and tore a tendon. It cost her a title fight in Vegas, but I may have taken the news harder. So it goes.

Whenever Newsletter 5-2

2005-06-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since we've done this. There are lots of reasons, but the main one is that I'm a scatterbrain. Even so, some good things have been happening. Editor Judy Brown included my one-liners in her book Squeaky Clean Comedy. I returned to the stage for a recent column on standup. And "So It Goes" won fourth place in Humor from The National Society of Newspaper Writers.

If we're not careful, I'm going to develop some self-esteem.

I've also been ghostwriting, which pays great but is less filling (sorry). I wish I could reveal my clients, but let's just say that one of them appears in the classified section of 148 newspapers. If I tell you more than that, I'll wake up in a pool of my own blood.

After some legal finessing, I started production on Real Life Snapshots. These are pictures I take around town for important smart-aleck commentary. My slogan: Taking photojournalism to lows you never dreamed of.

The feature will debut in a blog at The Star sometime before the polar ice caps melt. Here's a sneak preview:

Snapshots continue to spread online (like a rash, some say). We are up to 35 million hits per year. The other day I checked on the cartoon feed at one of our client websites, The Arizona Republic. After all of the concepting, sketching, inking, coloring, and technical preparation, the finished product looked like this.

So it goes.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 5-1

2005-01-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

Hi, boys and girls.

I owe you a long and entertaining newsletter ... but this isn't it.

This is a link to a video that accompanied my SAT column, which ran in Sunday's paper. I'm not allowed to publish it online for a few days, so this is like pre-release, cutting edge stuff.

You can find the video under "Related Links" at the Ventura County Star. First-time users will have to register, but it's quick and painless.

More soon. I just have to dig myself out from under a hillion jillion e-mails.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 4-7

2004-12-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

Most people ignore the minivote because it is, in the final analysis, stupid. But once in a while, when no one is looking, the minivote spawns the kind of discussion that can alter public opinion...
"If there was a drug that made you smarter but also made you fatter, would you take it?"

Twenty-two percent said yes and seventy-eight percent no. The point, says Dr. John Davey, is that such a drug already exists and we call it marijuana. Disputatious words from a doctor. Of course, I didn't ask what kind of doctor he is. He could be a doctor of P.E. or something.

Davey cited a poll conducted by CNN in 2004, when 20% of Americans confessed to smoking marijuana routinely. This is in perfect keeping with the results of my minivote, and think of all the money CNN could have saved had they merely consulted me first. Jasonlove.com: Where all the stories break.

In other news, I recently placed a 911 to the trademark police. The border of a rival comic, Half the Deck, was uncomfortably close to that of Snapshots. I asked Bruno, my asset-kicking attorney, to write a letter stating that if she, the offender, did not change her ways, very bad things would happen, like, soon.

Mary Dunne, the creator, turned out to be gentle, well-spoken, and nothing at all like my profile of other cartoonists. She wrote that she "appreciates my position" and that "life is too short to spend time getting stressed." Needless to say, I felt pretty dumb.

Mary switched to a border that not only better suits her comic but looks a hell of a lot nicer. So in my clumsy, bullying, backhanded way, I managed to help the competition. I don't mind, though; she deserves it.

I also want to give thanks to Charlie Myers, who has been feeding me cartoon ideas for as long as I can remember. Every morning I open my e-mail to a new concept. At first I wondered if Charlie wasn't framing me, but he just keeps dropping them off with a friendly smile. It's like having my own personal punch line fairy.

I encourage you to visit Charlie and tell him how great he is. I myself will never be able to repay (or outpace) his generosity. He is making it extra hard for me to uphold this jaded worldview.

Finally, I need ideas for a video column that I am producing for The Ventura Star. It's supposed to be funny human interest stuff like what I've done in the past (http://www.jasonlove.com/video/).

Ideas so far include retaking the SAT to see how dumb I've gotten, talking on bullhorns at the market to spoof the madness of walkie-talkie cell phones, etc.

Remember: There are no bad ideas ... just ideas that other people snicker at. Thanks again for your help. Someday I'll put you on the payroll.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 4-6

2004-11-01T13:59:00.000-08:00

In my youth, when I was fresh from the funny farm, I produced a meaner brand of work. Snapshots were darker, and "So It Goes" blasted people execution style.

The editor of Chief of Police Magazine said that I had "captured the lighthearted side of dark humor."

The truth is that the cartoons were not "edgy" so much as they were amateurish. I had committed the original sin: I had taken life too seriously.

This all dawned on me as I read a newspaper article titled, "Jason Love Takes on the World." Until then, I had never realized that I was taking on the world. I thought I was being funny, when I was actually struggling with a rebellious phase that most kids finish in high school.

Einstein said, "The most important question we have to answer for ourselves is this: Do I live in a friendly or hostile world?"

Even in the face of rape, murder, and car commercials, I want to live in a friendly world. I have been removing old, low-vibe cartoons and rewriting columns with a lighter heart. I still pick my battles, mind you (walkie-talkie cell phones come to mind), but mostly I am waking up to the possibility of everyone laughing at the same time.

Now that you know what a great guy I am, I must tell you that I recently decided to indulge the dark side and do a cartoon about Christopher Reeve (who was alive at the time). The cartoon wasn't cruel, technically speaking, but it ventured into a room that I had locked from myself. I'm not sure why I went back; that joke just kept making me laugh.

No sooner was the cartoon inked than Mr. Reeve passed away. It was kinda spooky. Needless to say, the joke isn't funny anymore (and, according to my wife, was definitely, definitely not funny in the first place). I was going to scrap the cartoon, but I figure that if you didn't sign up for the newsletter to hear about just this sort of thing, then why did you?

So for members only I have posted the Cartoon That Never Was.

J.

Whenever Newsletter 4-5

2004-06-01T13:59:00.000-07:00

I added Snapshots to "Comics Sherpa," a showcase of cartoons that are exceptionally good ... in the eyes of their creators. I uploaded the work, blew a kiss, and went my merry way.

A week later, I was informed that Snapshots was being vilified by other cartoonists. I knew my ears were itching for a reason. Evidently, some humorists have a lot of time to hang out at Comics Sherpa saying non-humorous things about the competition.

It reminds me of open mike night when I performed standup for the worst audience ever -- other comedians. During open mike, you could always tell when a joke was good: The room got deathly quiet as everyone jotted it down.

The nice thing was that comedians didn't have an online forum where they could blast each using a hundred different pseudonyms. Maybe you can beat them up for me.

If that weren't enough, I submitted my "cool article" to the paper, only to have it come back with a big red F. The editor gave it two unenthusiastic thumbs down, citing the things he disliked the most (mainly the parts where I used words).

Whereas the editor was looking for something fresh and hip written in today's lingo, I gave him something generic, full of shtick ... something I might syndicate online afterward.

I posted the rewrite for those of you who have absolutely nothing to do.

Finally, I NEED HELP! I've got so many balls in the air that I have no time to market my stuff. I'm looking for someone to lure unsuspecting customers to jasonlove.com.

Here's the rub: I can only pay minimum wage till I figure out if it's worth the investment. I am willing to pay a commission, but I can't put it in writing (too many what-ifs). You'll have to trust that I take care of those who take care of me.

You. You have no problem contacting strangers who may or may not be happy about it. You are industrious and don't require a lot of supervision. You can spell. You are not, as my wife put it, trying to "scam on me." You are willing to work for slave wages until something lucrative happens.

Me. I'm just the overworked guy tending to his balls.

Whenever Newsletter 4-4

2004-04-01T13:59:00.000-08:00

Before I forget, may I ask you, my creative and stouthearted friends, to come up with some new column ideas for The Star. My audition assignments went well, but now I need an encore.

Here are the types of ideas they have fancied...

getting a bikini wax

following two people around on their first date

dressing up as a homeless person and reporting on what it's like to panhandle

dressing up as a woman and reporting on what it's like to get hit on by men (or to get *hit* by men, depending)

taking care of children at a daycare center

asking local drinkers what it means to be cool

removing my tattoos

So. Any fresh ideas? Bueller?

With the twelve words I have left, I must share that I have finally, inevitably, developed carpal tunnel -- or as my friends call it, wussy tunnel. I wear the wrist brace and everything. It's really pathetic.

You would be surprised at how much carpal tunnel bugs, especially for guys like me who use their wrist for, well, lots of things. In case you are unfamiliar, carpal tunnel is when the little tubes inside your wrist swell up and refuse to be happy. It's like arthritis, only you complain twice as much.

When I was growing up, I always told my parents that I would like to become a stunt man.

"A stunt man?!" said my mom. "Heavens no; that's too dangerous. Why don't you use your imagination and be a writer or something?"

And here I sit with an all-but-unusable arm. The writing injuries don't stop there. To this day, there is a chunk of pencil lodged in my left palm; my vision has gone from 20-20 to 20-what the hell is that?; and I have gotten two ear infections from those yellow squishy noise thingies.

The day I got bikini-waxed, I sat on the torture chamber with a tear in my eye and one thought on my mind: "If I had only become a stunt man..."

Whenever Newsletter 4-3

2004-03-01T13:58:00.000-08:00

We call it the "Whenever Newsletter" because it happens whenever I get around to it. Still, I apologize for the holdup. As much as I love ya, business has been good, which is to say that I'm drowning in deadlines.

Thank you to those who helped with the snake dilemma. It turns out that my fears were unfounded: You were not only okay with snakes ingesting babies but suggested a number of other things that we could put in the snake's belly, including household pets, expecting mothers, and yours truly.

Diane from Kentucky brought me back to Earth when she suggested, in her simple Kentucky way, that we show a rattle and maybe mention what is happening in the caption.

Diane's suggestion was so right, so real, so ... humiliating. Here I was trying to count my fingers using the Pythagorean Theorem, when I could just change the caption.

I mailed books to four or five others who made me laugh. I'd send books to everyone, but my accountant says that it would be bad for me.

Chris from Mars (that's how his message was signed, so I assume it was a male Chris ... female Chrises are from Venus) inspired a spin-off in which musclesnakes swallow dumbbells. Here is the beta version:

OH -- I received my first death threat, which tells me that I am arriving. It came from someone who may or may not have front teeth and who feels that I overstepped my bounds to suggest that Jesus was black. He said that if he finds out where I live that he will @#$%, *%$#@, and possibly $%#*@!

I was going to reply with a comment about the Christlike nature of his message, but my accountant says that it would be bad for me.

Whenever Newsletter 4-2

2004-02-01T13:58:00.000-08:00

I've got a sketch that didn't work, and I was wondering if you could help me. We've got two snakes, one of whom has ingested a baby stroller. The other snake says, "Well, yeah, of course I'm impressed, but that can't be good for your digestion."

The problem is that you can't make out the baby stroller. It looks more like the head of a wrench. I've considered replacing it with a a child, a dog, the Statue of Liberty, and some other not-funny-enough options.

Anyone? Bueller?

The sketch looks like this (click on the picture to enlarge):

If you can come up with something, I will gladly send you a Snapshots book ... under the condition that you don't sell it on E-bay like the last contest winner.

The snake joke doesn't have to take place in the park. It can happen in any snakey location. Just don't put them in someone's bedroom. People can handle snakes talking but demand an explanation for their being in a bedroom.

Whenever Newsletter 4-1

2004-01-01T13:57:00.000-08:00

The website is finally finished, but not without some pain, especially in my wallet. If you've been there, you know that honest techies are rarer than unbroken Butterfingers.

My old techie, whom we'll call Lou Siffer, bid the website and I okayed it. Three weeks later, we were having the same conversation:

"So, uh, when will the site be done?"

"It all depends."

"On what?"

"When I get started."

Finally I asked, "Worst case scenario, when will you finish?"

"Worst case scenario? Never."

And that was that. There's friendly smart-ass, and then there's techie smart-ass.

A week later, Lou sent a bill for $200. I thought he was joking, but there it was, an itemized list of "work" he had done: time spent e-mailing me, time spent on templates we didn't use, time spent learning software...

But here is the punch line: he shut down my site till I paid him!

Now I'm in the humor business, so it's unwise for me to picture people choking on their own vomit. I phoned a friend and found that shutting down someone's site is a felony. That didn't faze Lou, because he's Danish and Danish people don't answer to the laws of lesser races.

The decision lay before me as in Dog Day Afternoon, only this time the robber was the transvestite. I had two options: fly to Denmark and beat him silly or pay the fantasy fees. Because I was only angry enough to get to, say, Idaho, I decided to pay the charges. But I mailed the check with a curse from my wife Yahaira who is Dominican and therefore has cursing authority.

Just be cautious when hiring techies, a strange breed of sunlight-deprived androids whose best creativity is spent on the invoice. Imagine if everyone were techies...

"Yes, sir, the Big Mac was $3.00, but you're forgetting the expense of thinking about cooking the burger..."

Whenever Newsletter 3-12

2003-12-01T13:57:00.000-08:00

As you may have noticed, the website has gone from gloomy gray to blissful beige. That's because we're all about the sunshine here at jasonlove.com.

How about a game. Back in 1994, when computers were made of sticks, the first Snapshot was born. Can you guess which of the following cartoons it was? The winners get to know that they won.

ANSWER:

That's right. It all started with a Seeing Eye dog bumping into a pole, the sound heard around the comics page. We have since created 1,300 Snapshots, many of which have been deleted from circulation because they were too stupid to live.

It is in honor of that first joke that we bring you last Wednesday's cartoon.

Thanks for hanging around with me. It's like we're growing up together, isn't it? I'm the kid you invite along even though he's annoying because he gives you free stuff to be his friend. I hope the other cartoonists don't make fun of you for it.

Jason

Whenever Newsletter 3-11

2003-11-01T13:56:00.000-08:00

A lot of cool stuff has been going on behind the scenes. "Snapshots" and "So It Goes" have been picking up papers; the website is headed for revolution; and Cafe Press is selling the hell out of my T-shirts. They also offer Snapshots mugs, Snapshots lunch pales, and Snapshots cow chips, but the beautiful thing is that I don't have to participate. I'm free to shirk other obligations.

Speaking of which, a man sent me a request to end his subscription to the Daily Snapshot (my other e-mail list). It read, "QUIT SENDING ME THESE G#!DAMN THINGS! THEY'RE F!#@&G STUPID." And whereas I hear that sort of thing all the time, I didn't appreciate his tone.

So I wrote back, "What's the magic word?"

Before day's end, he had signed me up for every e-mail list from gay sex chat to politics in Zimbabwe, and when will I learn to keep my mouth shut.

The point is that if anyone wants to leave my list, just say so. We won't keep you. We won't even ask why. There is an unsubscribe link at the bottom of every mailing, precluding the need for shouting or cursing my unborn children.

If you receive mailings from Snapshots, it is because you or someone who dislikes you signed you up for the service. The system works.

A final thought: Take a look at this cartoon about cigarette advertisements. This is, as one can clearly see, a spoof of Joe Camel. Would you believe that it earned me a physical threat from an anti-smoking terrorist? Some people are simply satire-challenged. Wait till he sees the one about the pregnant mother smoking for two...

Jason :)

Whenever Newsletter 3-10

2003-10-01T13:56:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that Snapshots has lost some bite in recent months, and that is by design. The more cartoons I do about gay Siamese twins, the less I sell to Puritan Times (nearly every paper in America). Newspapers belong to the elderly, the only ones who have time to read them.

The problem is that the irreverence builds up inside and needs a crack. Not that crack, a wisecrack. In due course, I have launched "Snapshots After Dark" to encompass the racy stuff. See what you think.

Of course, I still get slapped for my sayings and Silly Questions. Recently I ran a one-liner that read, "If I remove my prosthetic leg and beat you with it, is that hitting or kicking?" Later that day, I received an e-mail headed, "Prosthetic Leg."

Uh-oh, I thought. Erect the flame-guard.

The letter started as expected, "As a handicapped man..." I went into scan mode, reading only for gist. To my surprise, the man was amused by the joke. He said that he used a similar line when people asked why he got the good parking spots: "Because I can take off my leg and hit you with it. Or would that be kicking?"

The man, Robert, commended the daily cartoon and LOL'ed and asked me to write back.

I didn't know what to make of it. A disabled man laughing at my jokes. It didn't seem right. I thanked Robert for his guts and asked if I could call him Bob.

He replied, "Only if I fall into the ocean."

Now, I knew the old quadriplegic Bob joke, but it had never been used on me by a real, live legless Bob!

Here's the weird part: Bob's willingness to laugh at his own hardship made me think twice about doing crass humor. Whatever compels me to do these jokes finally relaxed. Bob achieved what all the complainers could not: he made me look in the mirror.

I shared my revelation with Bob, told him of my intention to go straight, and asked what he thought about it.

His reply: "Don't you dare. I won't stand for it!"

And I think he meant it literally.

Whenever Newsletter 3-9

2003-09-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the hair salon, thinking. Hair: one more body part that costs entirely too much to maintain. There was only one stylist, so I had time to play inside my head. I considered becoming a hippie to save on haircuts, but then I'd lose my money right back to marijuana and fixing my Volkswagen bus.

The hairdresser, Debbie, cut to the beat of her own drummer and that drummer seemed to be falling asleep. She even snipped in slow motion. Presently, she leaned in for a close-up of the customer's sideburn, which she shaved with surgical precision. She cringed at every error, felt imprisoned by her hang-ups, and otherwise reminded me of me.

So I sat and watched and wondered if I could add up all these moments of my life and deduct them from my age.

Finally, mercifully, Debbie finished. She twirled the client toward the mirror with a tired "tada!" Being a guy, he glanced at his reflection, made sure that it was, in fact, him, and nodded. Not bad.

Debbie followed him to the register, brushing his neck, admiring her work. The young man paid the cashier, tipped Debbie, and made his way out, pausing only to PUT ON A BASEBALL CAP! Debbie's eyes spewed from her face and rolled aflame across the floor. How dare... How could...

And he was gone.

The light caught Debbie's scissors as she turned to me and said, "Next."

For all I knew, she could snap. Or snip. Or worse. I told an off-color joke about how Siegfried and Roy were only safe because tigers don't eat fruit, and that seemed to reel her in. Nothing brings us together like bashing others.

As Debbie fell back into her styling trance, I considered how similar we were. I too put paid hours of attention to details that are largely overlooked. On a good day, my work gets a chuckle as it's crammed into the birdcage. I can't tell you how much time goes into those two seconds of mirth.

Maybe we should heed the Buddhists, who, as an exercise, spend hours creating sand designs (mandalas) and then, when the image cannot be further perfected, just rub it all away. Process is all we have, they say.

I wanted to share this with Debbie, but I don't think she cared for the Buddha. Judging by how she watched the clock, she may have been leaning toward a different philosopher. Jose Cuervo, perhaps.

Whenever Newsletter 3-8

2003-08-28T13:55:00.000-07:00

Last spring, I had drinks with a friend who is in advertising. I won't tell you his name, but in my home his nickname rhymes with "brickhead." I hadn't seen Brick in a while, and I had some ads to pitch (I worked as a copywriter for years and can't stop writing the damned things).

I started with an ad for Gatorade. Damaged by vodka, I used mainly my arms to convey the following:

"It's a brawny man running on a treadmill at the gym. It's late. He's alone. We snap the photo as he wipes sweat from his brow. The top reads, Not because you're here today... and then the bottom, but because you'll be back tomorrow. Gatorade. Is it in you?"

Brick accomplished the amazing feat of shrugging with his voice.

I kept pushing: "If Gatorade doesn't like it, we'll take it to PowerBar."

Brick stirred his drink, unimpressed. I angled with some slogans.

"What do people look forward to when they eat Hostess? Crème filling! We persuade Hostess to introduce Double-Crème Cupcakes: The Hostess With the Mostess."

More stirring.

"Okay, okay, okay. This one is for a printing company: Kinko's, making you look good in print."

Brick yawned theatrically. "What else you got?"

Maybe it was the vodka talking, but I really wanted to go Three Stooges on this guy. Here it was happy hour, and he couldn't even spare me a smile. Where was the guy who used to solicit hugs from strangers?

The evening ended the way it began, with me wishing I had stayed home. I zigzagged over to the phone and called my wife for a ride but not before telling a nearby police officer that I wouldn't be driving (they always appreciate that).

And life went on.

Last week I heard a commercial on the radio. I only caught the jingle at the end: "Brickhead Design, making you look good in print." I tried to shake it out of my head. Could he do that? No, it would be too ... Dr. Evil.

I went to Brick's website to grab his phone number, and what did I find but my slogan at the top of every web page, in the company literature, on his voice mail. I started to spin. How could? Why did? I mean, we were friends. I would have given him material. It was the fact that he ho-hummed me.

I called Brick to confront him, and he played dumb (he has a knack for it). I laughed but only to keep from cursing. I remembered this from the ninth grade when Steve Allison took credit for my idea to build a race track for people who like to drink and drive. The teacher gave Steve a "C" for supporting such madness, and I consoled him by saying that it was two grades up from plagiarism.

Brick has not returned my calls, which leaves me in the familiar position of scratching my rear end. There is a poem by Mother Theresa called "The Final Analysis" in which she coaches me to let it go. I'll take her advice, but sometimes I wish that I were still immature enough to go with my first idea -- placing fecal matter on Brick's doorstep with a sign reading, "Making you look good in shit."

Something tells me Mother Theresa wouldn't approve.

Whenever Newsletter 3-7

2003-07-22T13:55:00.000-07:00

This is a cordial reminder -- who am I kidding, it's a shameless commercial -- that we offer a 50% commission to anyone who places "Snapshots" or "So It Goes" in a paying publication. A few people who have taken me up on this offer now own small islands in the South Pacific.

On a wholly unbridgable note, whenever I finish a column, I ask someone to read it back to me. I want to know how it comes across in real life and whether it contains errors in cadence. As many of us learn through bizarre reactions to e-mails, tone is hard to establish in prose.

My wife Yahaira usually reads for me, but I try to mix it up. Recently, I asked Steve from softball to read, and have I told you how much I appreciate Yahaira? It's not that Steve is stupid. He makes ten times my salary and goes on vacation every other month. It's just that Steve falters when he reads, and that is something of a problem if you're a writer listening for tempo.

Before you get up in arms and contact The National Stuttering Association (NNNNNSA), I will have you know that Steve consented to this newsletter and even called you an idiot for reading it. (He's a great ballplayer, but his social skills need some polish.)

So Steve started to rr-rr-read the column one excruciating syllable at a time, and I hung in there despite the vertigo. Unfortunately, his recital had a wearing effect on my opinion of the work. By column's end, I wondered if I shouldn't choose a different occupation altogether.

Yet Steve kept on: "Some people des-de-describe the doctor..."

"No, Steve. It's not doctor. It's DR, an acronym for Dominican Republic."

"Whatever, dude."

I wanted to offer assistance but knew that Steve would be holding a bat the next time we met. So I listened till the end despite the dizziness and career doubts. Then I quietly erased him from my roster of readers.

I considered having Yahaira read the column full-time, variety be damned, but if I know her she will want credit as my coauthor, her signature in the illustration, and ultimately relocation of the website to jasonandyahairalove.com.

Yes, I have no choice but to keep trying the oth-oth-others.

Whenever Newsletter 3-6

2003-06-20T13:53:00.000-07:00

Recently I learned that the first letters of July, August, September, October, and November spell my name. It was like a revelation from heaven. I felt like a Chosen One, like I should be doing something other than watching TV. The word Jason means healer, after all, and isn't it written in the stars...

At which point my wife brought me back: "What about all the Jasons who are murderers and rapists? Are they special too?"

She really knows how to humor a guy.

As you may know, I started out in standup, where I learned humility. Like Seinfeld said, "It's the toughest business in the world if you're not good at it." I wasn't good at it, but I had pinpointed the reason why: my personality sucked.

Over time I fixed the stuff that I could fix and stopped apologizing for the rest. Part of the de-sucking process involved writing a column on bombing, which was, from all accounts, funnier than my actual stage time. Toastmasters asked me to develop the piece for their magazine by incorporating ideas for other speakers.

When the article was ready for print, we produced a little cartoon with a sheep performing standup for wolves. What did the editor do? She reached into her pile of clipart and came up with this.

Did you see that guy's face? I wouldn't make that expression for all the money in the world, even in private! And everyone who picks up the magazine thinks that it's me. I wanted to tell the editor how I felt but remembered the advice of my journalism teacher: "Speak as little as possible, Jason."

So I decided to pour my feelings into a new article titled, "The Editor Wears No Clothes." It's for all the freelancers who have suffered at the hands of truly tasteless decisions. And I'll be submitting the work to writing magazines from July to November because those are MY months, baby.

Whenever Newsletter 3-5

2003-05-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

If you have read "So It Goes" long enough -- and please seek help if you have -- you know that I've got Ebay issues. Recently I won a book for $2, scaring off the other bidders with my fierce reputation. I received the congratulatory blah blah blah requesting that I contact the seller, and so the story begins.

I'm not sure how much I can divulge before someone yells libel, so let's just say that her name begins with Kathy Strick****. If you know a woman with the warmth of a Brillo pad and whose name matches that description, it's probably her. Kathy told me that the book was two dollars but that shipping and handling were four.

"Handling?" I wrote. "You mean, like, placing the book in an envelope?"

Handling fees have always triggered my homicide reflex. It's like ordering a hamburger at McDonald's and having the clerk say, "Oh -- you want that in a bag."

I politely informed Kathy that she could handle herself silly but not on my dollar. I would, however, pay for shipping. Being in the rejection-by-mail business, I happen to own a flashy scale and know that it costs $2 to ship a book from Kathy's home in hell to my front door. The total would thus be $4.

Kathy's response: "Sorry. Can't pay your shipping. $6 or nothing. Thanks."

Now, tone is difficult to establish via e-mail, but she may have nailed snide.

I specified that Book Rate was two bucks and that principle forbade me to pay more.

Kathy: "I don't know what this Book Rate business is all about. I told you shipping is $4. If you can't pay postage, I'll keep it and sell it to someone else."

The be-atch was out of the bag.

Narrowly avoiding my true feelings, I told Kathy to keep the book and swindle elsewhere. Then I took a shower.

Two days later, Ebay notified me that Kathy had filed a Non-Paying Bidder Notice. She wanted to recover the 15 cents that she had lost in our transaction!

After several breathing exercises, I disputed the non-paying bidder charge one preposterous screen at at time. I reminded Kathy that I know where she lives and that I have frequent flyer miles. Ebay finally agreed to remove the charge under the condition that Kathy and I never speak again.

And although everything worked out, I kinda wish that I had paid the two extra bucks and got the book. I've never read Don't Sweat the Small Stuff.

Whenever Newsletter 3-4

2003-04-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

Thank you to everyone who submitted captions for my orphaned sheep illustration. It turns out that Snapshots' readers are much funnier than its creator, who is now wondering if he shouldn't change jobs altogether. The winning caption, by Su Kopil, goes: "Laughter is the key to survival." Usually I'm not that "Family Circus," but brilliant is brilliant.

Honorable mentions go to...

Jenni Apolonio: Shelley was really on that night, but in the end it was just dinner theater.

Colin Bernard: Poor Shelley really thought they were laughing at her jokes.

BJ: "It's great to make it this far. Now I'd like to introduce the next comedian, an equally terrified Little Red Riding Hood..."

My wife suggested that I give a book to runners-up. I countered by saying that it would cheapen first prize. She gently persisted by saying, "Quit being such a tightwad." So Jenni, Colin and BJ -- please send me your mailing address so I can quit being a tightwad.

If it hadn't been necessary for the caption to justify the sheep-wolf thing, I would have gone with one of these...

"Did you hear about the wolf with arthritis? He had his buddy lick his balls." (submitted by Robert Thomas).

"If I have to hear her call herself virgin wool one more time..." (submitted by Diana Guerry).

"Which one of you ate my brother? No, about paranoia..." (submitted by Steven Forrest)

"And don't even get me started on those Three Little Pigs..." (submitted by Freak Magnet).

I tip my hat to Peggy Sue Swiecki, who wrote a zillion captions for this one drawing (and each of them better than my own). I am going to send her a book just for wanting it so bad. Props also to Brian White, editor of GlossyNews.com, for not only writing a bunch of funny -- if not printable -- captions, but also for providing his mailing address up front so I knew where to send the prize.

Final thought. When I decided to enter the cartoon business, I stopped looking at other comics. I had to at least think my stuff was fresh, and every joke represented one more place I couldn't go.

Years have oozed by, and recently I realized that I've been peeking. In fact, I've been rolling on the ground laughing. I don't know what changed my mind. Maybe I've been at it so long that I don't care anymore. Maybe it's the change in medication.

At any rate, I have stumbled on some very funny funnies. My favorite syndicated cartoon is Rubes, which has been around for, like, ever. He tickles me in my sleep sometimes. I also discovered a funny online comic called "Strange Breed" by Steve Langille. I contacted Steve to give him a high-five, and would you know that he's a regular guy like me? Check him out at http://www2.hi.net/s4/strangebreed.htm.

Oh, yeah. I've also allowed myself to read Dave Barry again. It's a good thing I'm married and heterosexual and all that; otherwise, I'd be knocking at his door.

Whenever Newsletter 3-3

2003-03-20T13:52:00.000-08:00

Usually I wait until cartoons are uploaded before I contact you, but I'm in a bind...

I sold an article about standup comedy to Toastmaster Magazine. The editor requested an illustration for the article but, upon seeing it, changed her mind. Now I have an unfunny, captionless cartoon that yearns to be a Snapshot but needs your help.

Please take a look at this and see if you can come up with a caption for this drawing. I will send two cartoon books to first place and one to second place as a token of my appreciation.

For the record, the caption was intended to read, "Only Shelley's Toastmaster skills kept her alive that day."

You can see why the editor went with clipart.