Contest No. 208 starts right now.
Here are the details: I’ll supply a drawing of one of my old cartoons that has never been published, leaving off my caption. You are invited to supply your funniest captions. To enter, simply (1) click on “See Comments and Add Your Own”. Then (2) scroll down past any other submitted captions and type in your name and your caption in the spaces provided. Then (3) click “Save”. There is no charge to submit captions, and the only prize is the honor of being one of the funniest people around.
Your caption (or captions) will be posted after I review your submission. However, no captions at all will be posted for the first few days of each contest. This will give everybody a chance to submit their spontaneous, gut-instinct caption without fear of discovering that it was ripped off by somebody else’s similar spontaneous, gut-instinct caption. Every posted caption that you enter has a notation as to the date and time it was received. This is an equal opportunity contest!
There is no limit on the number of captions you may enter for each drawing, but I will only post and consider the first 15 captions from any contestant. Entries will be accepted and posted for one week, after which a winner will be announced and the winning caption will be printed. Below that I will also reveal my original caption. I am the sole judge and the winning caption will be the one I deem to be the funniest one submitted (not necessarily the one that matches or comes closest to my original caption).
The cut-off time and date for you to send in your captions is midnight Wednesday, January 17, 2024.
Good luck, Captioneers, and I wish you all a Happy and Healthy 2024!
Below is the drawing that needs your funny captions.
59 Comments
“If you want to be mentioned favorably in my memoirs, you’ll reconsider your choice of bunks!”
Don’t look so down, at least you don’t have to pay any taxes.
Look at the bright side, no room and board.
There’s nothing here that entitles you to the bottom bunk!
“It’s titled From Excel to Cell: When an Accountant Goes Bad.”
“I’m too busy for ‘chit-chat’. Write me a letter and I’ll give you a typed response by the end of the month.”
“What do you mean, writers block?”
“Romance novels may be the wrong way to go in here.”
“I’m not going to share writing credit unless you come up with a great idea for their escape.”
“Can I use you as a reference for my petition for a new trial?”
“If you want the parole board to seriously consider your early release request you need to come up with something better than ‘I’m bored’.”
“I’m too busy for small talk. Why don’t you send me an email the next time you get computer access time in the prison library?”
“I don’t have much time for small talk. You might try sending me a Facebook message next time you get computer access time in the prison library.”
“Are you sure you want to call the Appeals judge ‘A Wapner wannabe’?”
Just do something interesting so I can put it in my future best-selling memoir once I get out of here!
“When I first got here, six months ago, I had a full head of hair too.”
“Everyone has the same window treatment.”
“How about we meet at the top of the Empire State Building in five years on New Years Eve.”
“Since you’re a famous country musician the warden said I should document every detail of your stay. Do you hear the train a comin?”
Pout all you want, but you will only be a footnote.
Your sighs are creating a draft on the back of my neck.
Sorry, but I am dedicating this book to my mother.
‘And they all lived happily ever after’, will not be the ending.
Forget your escape plan, my book will give you the greatest escape, bar none.
“During an interview at Folsom Prison in the early 1950’s a soon to be paroled, struggling musician, ‘Johnny Cash’, was asked: ‘Do you hear the train a-comin’?”
“I was really hoping to finally have some ‘me’ time.”
“I’m not typing ‘I feel like I’m in prison without you’!”
“Are you sure you want to call him ‘Your Dishonor’??”
“Okay, Doc, tell me again how a one-armed man tied you up and left you for dead!”
When I’m finished with this book, we’ll spend some time together.
I don’t care if you’re sleepy. This is not a bedtime story.
You’d be wise not to dream of a waterfall or the smooth flow of a beer as it enters a tall frosted glass.
“Snap out of it, Ralph, you’re weeks away from your execution.”
“I’ll make millions off this book. Who says crime doesn’t pay.”
They say to write what you know, and I don’t know sugar plums and lollipops.
“You need to find an escape from your boredom, Sal.”
Make yourself useful – donate a little more ink.
No, I do not know how to play chopsticks on this thing.
“Cheer up, or you won’t come out looking good in my book.”
“How does My Life On The Rocks sound for a title?”
“Your life story? No…no…no…what we have here is a chart topping, country western song.”
From your suggestions, I assume you are in for plagiarism.
It is very impressive that you got a ‘B’ plus in your grade eight class, but I prefer to do my own work.
“It’s my Book of Exodus.”
“I need to punch this up. Say something prophetic.”
So, what comes next?
“That doesn’t look like the face of a man that is getting out in just a few, short days.”
” I was just remembering the taste of my wife’s cooking.”
“Was your early parole declined?”
“No . . . I leave in two days . . . to go home to my seven kids.”
“I’m writing my Book of Exodus.”
“How do you spell inflammatory bowel disease?”
“And that completes my autobiography: My Life Doing Life.”
“If you want to be a honest politician tell voters that you’re a lying, corrupt, thief, void of all morals.”
“The hero is a bald ex-con who is irresistible to women.”
In my last chapter, I seek revenge on my cell mate.
“We need to wrap this up before your new cell mate, ‘Guido the Killer Pimp’ gets here.”
I know you smart-alecky whippersnappers think it’s inefficient to use a typewriter rather than a computer but at least you can’t hack my stuff and we’re certainly not lacking for time in this hellhole of a place.
“I’m being paroled soon but rest assured I’ll give you your half of the royalties as soon as you get out in 99 years.”
Anything you want me to say to your wife when I see her tomorrow?
“How would you like to be my secretary. I can afford to pay you 6 cents an hour.”