When providing psychotherapy, one must be sensitive to differing cultural norms.
A LOT OF GREAT CAPTIONS for the Death cartoon were submitted last week: 20 on the Ithaca Post, and an additional four here at DrinkMyWords.com. Picking a winner was both entertaining and challenging. So challenging, in fact, that we have two winners, one from each website. Check out the two captions below the cartoon, and you’ll see why we chose them both and not just one:
Congratulations to Emily and Colleen! Emily, send me your snail mail address. Colleen, I know where you live.
Though not chosen as the winners, some of the other Ithaca Post staff favorites included:
“Bargaining won’t work; I’m a cat person.”
“I know it’s not much, Bowzer, but I can bring home more once business picks up again.”
“Don’t give me that look; my femur is not a toy!”
“I like your initiative, Spike, but the basic idea here is to collect the bones while they’re still attached.”
Thank you to everyone for participating, and let’s do it again soon.
WRITE YOUR OWN CAPTION! You’ve always wanted the opportunity to laugh in the presence of Death; here’s your chance. The winner will receive a limited edition A Year Full of Death Calendar 2011 filled with cartoons made by me, Amelia Sauter. I know, I know, there’s only five months left in 2011 but it’s the only merchandise I’ve created so far. And since only 20 calendars were printed, someday it could be worth a lot of money on eBay.
All captions should be submitted via comments on this blog post or the blog post at www.theithacapost.com by midnight on Sunday, July 31. Please, don’t be too funny or you’ll make me look bad.
WHEN I WAS STRAIGHT, I didn’t want to get married. Always the hopeless romantic, I chased boys like crazy, daydreamed about finding true love, and watched Sixteen Candles over and over again on VHS until I could recite every line with the cast. But if someone used the word “should” in a sentence, I dug in my heels. The idea of buying into a state-approved, religion-supported institution like marriage sent me running.
Now I want what I can’t have. For fifteen years, my girlfriend and I have danced the Electric Slide at other people’s weddings. (Or more accurately, I danced the Electric Slide and Leah laughed at me.) Each celebration reminds us that we can’t legally have our own wedding in New York State.
“Go to Massachusetts (Vermont, Canada) to get married,” I hear from friends on a regular basis. But I don’t think exercising our civil rights should require a road trip.
It’s like shopping at IKEA. Now that I’m a domesticated creature, I can spend most of a day blissfully perusing the Glimma, Regolit, and Fartyg in this wondrous Scandanavian heaven. However, I have to drive four hours at a minimum before I can exercise my right to hipster shopping. Why can’t I have an IKEA in my town? When will the Senate vote on this gross inequality? We need to organize a rally.
As a kid, when I whined about injustices, my dad always said, “Life’s not fair, Amy.” (Yes, my parents called me ‘Amy.’ Don’t tell anyone.) Like almost everything, Pop is right. Bad things happen to good people. Everybody dies.
But some inequalities can be fixed, and I’m going to keep whining until I get my way. I want the right to charge a big fat wedding to my high interest credit card; to buy a fancy white dress that I wear once and then nostalgically stash in the back of the closet; to dance the Electric Slide, the Macarena, and The Chicken Dance Polka at my own cheeseball wedding; to check the “married” box on state and federal tax forms.
Let’s hope that the New York State Senate votes to approve gay marriage, because I’m ready to celebrate my love. And hopefully they’ll write a “Bring IKEA to Ithaca” clause into the bill, because I’m also ready to shop.