More (unofficial) Winners: New Yorker Anti-Caption Contests #189 & 188..

NOTE: Those of you familiar with the "Anti-Caption contest" presented each week at Radosh.net have noticed that no winners were selected last week, the week before AND the week before that. I posted my selections for the most recent contest yesterday and was touched by the response. Two people commented including Daniel Radosh who said he approved! Talk about validation! I feel like a lounge singer who just got a thumbs up from Sinatra (or Jerry Vale even!) So, flush with this recognition, I am humbly offering my top picks for the other two contests that went winner-less. I do this out of respect for my fellow Anti-Cappers and I do this as a service to Mr. Radosh, a frequently insightful, yet extremely busy man who wears pink shirts, disdains needless censorship and fancies cute teenybopper girl bands (just wanted to show I read the other entries on his blog as well). Naturally, I did not select any of my entries. That level of narcissism I've yet to achieve. Please leave comments with your thoughts, suggestions or dirty jokes. --al in la

The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #189

WINNER:

"I just pray that somewhere there's a voodoo doll in an extraordinary amount of pain."
TG Gibbon

SECOND PLACE:

Next time, how about if you get the acupuncture and I get the back rub?"
Joel Jacobs

HONORABLE MENTIONS:
Once my coffee stirrer porcupine outfit is finished, I can consummate my bizarre sex ritual on this dead prostitute.
Roger Kaputnik

"I've got the puncture down, but I'm still working on the accu."
Tom

"Damned stupid box of Acupuncture needles fell on me. Can we reschedule?"
Johnny V

"I have become so distressed at Radosh's tardiness in judging his contest that I have decided to commit suicide. Very, very slowly. And you?"
Galoux


The New Yorker Cartoon Anti-Caption Contest #188



WINNER:

I’ve trained them to tune my piano. I call them my tune-a-fish. It boosts their smelly little egos.
Geo_7

SECOND PLACE

"And the piano, it sounds like a carnival! And the microphone smells like a beer! And they sit at the bar and put fish in my piano, despite my constant and overwrought reworking of songs to emphasize the damage it does to my piano! Oh la la la di da da..."
t.a.m.s.y.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

"And then, as I left to go to my dressing room, I said to this fag:'You don't know the difference between tuning a Concert Grand and tuna fish!"
Mack Pate

Thank you! I've been here all week!"
Francis