New Yorker Rejects #8
Can you feel Fall in the air? I certainly can. Much like the dropping of withered leaves, my rejected cartoons are suddenly piling up in the gutter, asphalt-soaked and ripe for decay.
Except
Greg Bishop
A veterinarian with unquenchable creative impulses. Unquenchable? Hmmm... creative "tendencies"? Well, it depends on how well I slept last night. Also a writer, illustrator and whatever-elser.
Pant Pant Sigh
The x-rays were really bad. Much worse than expected. When I had picked Wrigley's chart from the rack of veterinary emergency patients, I have to admit, I wasn't in
Let's Be Honest
This must be terrible for you, I'm so sorry.
I have some guesses about how you're feeling: anxious, fearful, lost, pained. I would be too, if I were in
New Yorker Rejects #7
Every now and then, an informal meeting of Portland-based, professional cartoonists takes place here in town. And I get an invite. It's not like it's an official thing, but
Belly of the Beast
About a month ago, my seven-year-old son jumped into the ocean for the first time. Jumped in, not waded in. Not got up to his waist and then ran back squealing away from