The X Files

That "other" pile of cartoons stored away in the attic of memory

The reason for this drawing will become more apparent a paragraph of so hence. (And isn’t it a fine thing to be able to use a word like “hence”?)

A little less than a million years ago, I set out to organize some of the artwork that was choking my office, the pen-and-ink equivalent of dollar weed. I scanned a little less than a million images and put them on files.

(I’m enjoying a private joke here, by the way. If this were going through a copy desk, somebody a year out of J-school would change the “less than” references to “fewer than.” Ha ha ha. I scoff at your style book!)

So, much less than a million years ago, I was turned on to Substack and started a site with the intention of republishing all the “That’s Jake” cartoons without once considering how damn much work it would be.

It started off just slapping artwork onto a New Post, sort of like cartoons appear in the paper. Then I began to add commentary. That grew into “presentation pieces.”

I didn’t really have a “next” in mind, because when I got to the 2000 file, that appeared to be the end of it.

I probably knew better and might have repressed that knowledge, but for whatever reason, I put a check mark next to that project, indicating “finished.”

Then, while looking for something else, I noticed this:

Two more file folders.

Now for a little insider cartoonist information. It was up to me to stick little copyright things on each cartoon. Those indicated the year of publication, and served well for the permanent public record when printed.

Unfortunately for that permanent record, those little stick on copyright things had a tendency, like the cartoonist his ownself, to age and lose their grip. Once they fall off, it is anybody’s guess which year they belonged to.

Apparently it happened a lot.

It also happened to captions. Sometimes, in addition to wondering where it came from, one is left wondering what the hell it meant.

They are still there, however, and are just as much a part of whatever sort of legacy this is as those other cartoons and just as deserving of an encore.

That left me with the question of HOW? After museum/art gallery, photo album and refrigerator door, what format is left for displaying old cartoons?

That brings us back to that drawing at the top of this post. This undated, miscellaneous status of not belonging anywhere is sort of reminiscent of what might go into an old box in the attic. “Misc. Undated” is about as close to not having a name as you can get, the sort of situation where you put an X in the signature box.

And there we have it. Our new format for the remaining “That’s Jake” cartoons.

The one on the left was a recurring theme. I did the same joke back in the late 80’s with Jake carrying a stereo while he ran. Joke then was it had better sound than headphones but you need several miles of extension cord.

Middle one was a shot, I think, at the Yuppy types buying Hummers and giant sport-utes.

One on the right lost a few people. Maybe too many words in too many places. Trying to get the joke across that buyer is smiling at the idea of leather seats and then shocked when his wife reminds him of what the money means.

Some people wrote in wanting to know why he had two faces.

Nothing you can do for people like that. It is best to just walk away.

I know these are from a ski trip to Crested Butte and my wife could probably tell the year, or at least narrow it down. The cartoon in the middle is about tons of snow, which happened to us twice. Avalanche was our favorite restaurant there and toon on the right refers to Busted Crust, one of the names I had for it.

The one about dancing in ski boots is art imitating life, but was from another place and time. We went to Apres Ski in Snowmass on my first trip ever. I was wearing a Tennessee hat and the guy singing, Twerp Anderson, did “Rocky Top” and had me out there clogging in ski boots — at about 9,000 feet.

Try it in thin mountain air. It is memorable.

More from same ski trip, probably. They are undated, after all — and the one about the outrageously oversized carry-on bags could be anytime. But it does look like a series.

Ha! This just brought back a couple of memories.

We had lawyer friends who insisted on calling their luxury sport utility vehicles “trucks.” The Islesnoot sticker is a jab at Islesworth, the ultra-posh enclave on south end of town where all the athletes hang out. What struck a chord was “Magic Lower Bowl.”

Having season tickets to the Orlando Magic games was “a thing.” Where you were in the arena MATTERED. I used to jokingly talk about being Upper Bowl Trash, where seats were less expensive. It was not a joke to some people.

One on the right reminded me of how positions used to get created back when newspapers had money for such things. Omsbudsmen, writing coaches, design consultants and the like.

Not sure if this is “exactly” the genesis of the “bad day behind the microphone” cartoon, but I once did a speech for Navy Officers that opened with a bunch of Navy Jokes. It did not go well.

One on the right is godson Ethan as a baby. It has to be from late 90s, toward the end of the cartoon series.

And this is the end of this trip back. Machine says this post is long enough. More later.