Day 1192 of 365 4 lyf.
First off, the less said about today’s football game, the better.
Anyway, I’ve been ripped off! In my right hand you see an episode of Cosmic Hellcats, the finest comic to ever grace the web. Well, the finest one which I write anyway. In particular, you see the 11-2-09 edition. In my left hand you see a cartoon from the New Yorker, exactly 2 weeks later. Notice any similarities? I mean they only stole the ENTIRE FUCKING JOKE!!!!
My friend Mike pointed it out to me. I means sure, it’s not the best joke I’ve ever done in the strip. And yeah, maybe I didn’t write the song. But come on, singing beer on the wall while on your long space ship journey? And I mean, it came out exactly 2 weeks later. And the artwork in their version doesn’t exactly scream "we took our time with this."
And I mean look, not only does the New Yorker sell a LOT of magazines, look what they charge for a single print of the comic. $149.00- $445.00! You’ve got to be shitting me. And it’s my joke! A crappy one, but mine! I totally would have even licensed it to them for like $1,000 or soemthing too. Hell, I mean, give me a call, New Yorker. We can totally license you the entire strip.
Bastards.
Were you able to contact anyone there about this?
The Colts-Patriots game was entertaining though. Also, Dallas got plastered. So it’s not all bad…
The cartoonist multiplied your joke by 1000, and his rocket is not a space convertible. Methinks your lawsuit will fail. 🙁
Perhaps the editor can be persuaded by you to have some office lackey question the cartoonist about where he plagiarized– I mean, where he got his "inspiration".
Ziegler, you RAT!!
Seriously though, if you innocently query The New Yorker, without saying why, about when the deadline was for that particular cartoon before publication – when did the New Yorker have the finished product? – that information will either tell you for sure that it was just a weird coincidence, or leave the plagiarism door open. Hopefully they’ll tell you without asking why you want to know; otherwise, you’ll never know for sure whether or not they are lying about the deadline.
I say it’s clearly theft! Where the hell is Matlock when you need him?
Ben! Ben! Where are you Ben? Answer Me!