Steve Brewer Pays Up With Novel Cartoon, Ziggy Beware!

I despise this guy.

But there are equalizers in life. Ways to even the playing field. Brain over brawn. Football. Televised football. The Super Bowl. A point-spread.

Finally, I saw an opportunity to cut this vertically overcompensated fellow down to size, bring him down to my level, so to speak. Of course, this would require sawing about a yard off those stilts he uses for legs (honestly, nobody needs to be that tall, do they? Personally, I think he’s just doing it for spite. Show-off). I believed I could turn his rather unnatural man-love for the Pittsburgh Steelers against him. The Big Game would be my Excalibur.

Vegas and I both knew there was no way the Steelers were going to keep the ball away from Larry Fitzgerald for all four quarters of the Super Bowl. I was right. Though they lost the game, the Arizona Cardinals did manage to beat the spread of 6.5 points. Victory, as they say, was mine (I’m a Raiders fan so “victory” is a word I don’t get to use very often.)

My plan was to publicly humiliate Mr. Brewer by asking that should he lose said bet, he would be required to draw a cartoon for public display on A News Cafe dot com. Had he and his team prevailed on the other hand, I would be forced to write his column for him. I figured, what the heck, I’ve been writing this junk for years. Public humiliation is nothing new to me, in fact, it’s kind of what I do. Win/win, right?

Wrong.

The bearded behemoth one-upped me. I knew he was funny but I assumed breathing the rarefied air at that altitude would eventually start taxing the brain. Even his. I should have known that, like a Sherpa, he’s adapted. Still, the drawing part of cartooning would have to be a problem, right? I mean, he’s a typist, right? So, I waited.

A few minutes ago I noticed the digital envelope on my toolbar had a little “1” on it. That’s the signal that a new e-mail had arrived. Sure enough, there it was in my mailbox, “Steve’s Cartoon” in the subject line and a little picture of a paper clip. It was here.

I downloaded the file with the twisted, anticipatory glee of a Ritalin deprived fat kid waiting for the cat to explode in the microwave. I expected the same kind of mess, the inked equivalent of Mr. Whisker guts splattered all over the place.

I was so disappointed. It was as if Mr. Whiskers had not only survived, but jumped out of the oven with a nice tan and dinner plans. It didn’t suck. In fact, it was pretty good. Here, see for yourself:

See? Pretty funny. Self-deprecating while still managing to get in a dig at the cartoonist. Not bad. I’m impressed.

You see, Brewer has managed to prove once again that it’s the writing that makes a cartoon. Adams, Pastis, the guy who draws Ziggy and now even Brewer, have certainly shown you don’t have to go to any fancy-nancy art school (even the ones whose entrance exams are on the back of matchbooks, like my alma mater) in order to be a cartoonist. No, just sit down at the kitchen table with a Bic and a piece of typewriter paper and, Voila! Le Cartune! It’s the gag, you ink-stained wretch! Now pass the Doritos.

OK Brewer, you’ve proved your point. But, if I were you I’d be careful. A lot goes on down here at sea level that you don’t know about. It could be pretty dicey for a guy of your stature. You could get the bends. It’s hard to be funny when every molecule in your body explodes.

Ask Mr. Whiskers.

Phil “Philbert” Fountain is a sad, bitter little man whose only pleasure in life was being the staff cartoonist at A News Cafe dot com. Today, he’s questioning the validity of his very existence now that it has been proven, beyond doubt, that literally ANYONE can be a cartoonist. He can be reached at philf.anewscafe@gmail.com should the Universe allow him to once more suckle at the teat of Human Kindness and receive any messages of encouragement.