Single panel gag cartoons are a dying art.  There are nearly no magazines where the struggling cartoonist can publish.  Certainly a miniscule number of superior outlets.  The New Yorker and Playboy, and I may have to take Playboy off the list because the quality of what they publish has seriously deteriorated in recent years.

When I was a kid I dreamed of producing succinct and urbane single-panel cartoons for distinguished and salient journals for the amusement of sophisticated readers.

Some years ago B. Kliban published a cartoon in Playboy.  In it a gentleman in dark glasses and an ascot with a babe on each arm (and a dedicated pooch and a purring kitty astride) parades down the boulevard.  A policeman is clearing the path by shoving an annoying blind beggar out of the way while barking "Out of the way you Swine!!  A CARTOONIST is coming!"

That would be me, I fantasied.  But now, the reality is, it's the cartoonist shoved out of the way.

Despite my broken heart and blighted dreams, I am compelled to produce said cartoons.  Ordained by the snickering Gods to create a doomed oeuvre of visual tricks and clever bon mots with no delivery system.

But wait!  There's always OS...