Contest No. 229 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 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 has an indication of 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, 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 the winning caption will be announced and printed and 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, August 27, 2025.
Below is the drawing that needs your funny captions. Good luck, Captioneers!
68 Comments
When I asked you to come in for an exam, I specifically asked you to come alone.
I see you have a huge following.
You seem to have quite a large following
“I’m afraid your problem is getting worse.”
“Unfortunately, the patient before you seems to have been symptomatic.”
“That’s a pretty strong Covid response.”
“Lets just say that you don’t need the well-patient room.”
“I’m afraid we’re both seeing them.”
“It’s nothing serious – count your lucky stars.”
“They’re leftover from my last patient – the heavyweight champion of the world.”
“I don’t treat patients from the Lone Star State.”
“Yes, I treat a lot of stars.”
“I’m afraid there’s no cure, but make as many wishes as you like.”
“I’m sorry but you’re out of galaxy.”
“It looks like ‘BEE HEPATITIS!’.”
“Don’t worry – it’s nothing Sirius.”
“It appears your germophobia is contagious.”
“I’m referring you to an ‘Entomologist’ to make sure the bug you have is not an endangered species.”
“Are the spiders in the room with us now?”
“My best guess is you’re suffering from a bug bite.”
“What bugs?”
“And how long have you been seeing these stars?”
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna have a word with Eli.”
“The fault in your case, Mr. Brutus, is in your stars.”
“It’s quite serious, so try to catch one and hope it’s lucky.”
“Your medical condition doesn’t support your starry-eyed look.”
“Let’s just say your prognosis isn’t stellar.”
“Patients seem to like my star-spangled bedside manner.”
“I was hoping all the stars would shed some light on your condition, but I haven’t the foggiest.”
It was a lifelong dream to practice medicine inside a snow globe.
“Obviously something is bugging you!”
“Have you ever considered that you’re possibly too bee friendly?”
“How long have you had the feeling that you’re living in a snow globe?”
“When you go to bed turn the light on in the next room and leave your bedroom door open.”
“This is the worst hives case I’ve ever seen!”
“I prescribe a pair of Venus Flytraps, one for your bedroom and one for the den and see me in six months.”
“Now comes the Field of Vision test.”
“Once you connect the dots, we’ll have the answer.”
“I have to refer you to a specialist in a galaxy far, far away.”
“Maybe boxing isn’t your game.”
“I’m referring you to an astronomer.”
“So, you see stars with your eyes closed, too? Looks like an open and shut case.”
“It looks like Hepatitis Bee.”
“You say it all started with a small tick.”
“Looks like snowy picture syndrome. I’ll write you a prescription for cable.”
“No sir, I’ll never guess why your co-workers call you Buzz ‘Mosquito-Man’ Martin.”
“So you signed up for a new ‘insect repellent research study’ and your attorney needs to know if you are, or are not, in the placebo group.”
“I only become concerned when patients see stars and stripes.”
“So, your condition started when you were deep in the heart of Texas?”
“If you find you can’t go to sleep imagine they’re on a herd of sheep and try counting them.”
“Your insurance only covers 80 percent so you”ll have to swat the remaining 20 percent yourself!”
Explain it to me again – which day of Passover is this?
“My apologies. I really should fix the lamp arm clamp.”
“Did you still want me to check for a spider nest in your nose?”
“Your disorder is not catching some Z’s – it’s releasing many stars.”
“It’s a condition caused by eating too many Milky Way chocolate bars.”
“We ran out of the malaria vaccine so we will be going with the real thing.”
“So how much honeycomb did you say you ate?”
“‘Swarm in here, isn’t it?
“Need a tissue?”
“Well, it’s an interesting superpower.”
“Ever since I got on that reality show…”
“Most patients only give me three stars.”
“The good news is your vision is fine.”
“Don’t mind my entourage.”
It must be love, I keep seeing stars.
“Unfortunately your insurance doesn’t cover this unless one of them stings you and you have an allergic reaction.”
“The good news is raw honey is delicious.”