Cartoons Funny Quotes

If you’ve ever studied mortal age cartoons, you’ll remember this one. A coyote was always plotting the demise of a smirking long-necked bird. The coyote never succeeded; instead, his plans always backfired. He would blow up, or get shot, or splat from a ridiculous height. And it was funny. Because no matter how deadly his failure, he was always back in the next scene, as if there were a revival center just beyond the edge of the animation cell. I’ve seen human foibles that have resulted in temporary maiming or momentary loss of life. People stumble into manholes, are hit by falling objects, trip into the paths of speeding vehicles. And when it happens, people laugh, because no matter how gruesome the event, that person, just like the coyote, will be back in a day or two, as good as new, and no worse—or wiser—for the wear. Immortality has turned us all into cartoons.

Like a cartoon world, where the figures are flat and outlined in black, jerking through some kind of goofy story that might be real funny if it weren't for the cartoon figures being real guys...

John flung himself into a pseudo-karate stance, one hand poised behind him and one in front, posed like a cartoon cactus. I thought for an odd moment he had moved his limbs so fast they had made that whoosh sound through air but then I realized John was making that sound with his mouth.

You read a book for the story, for each of its words," Gordy said, "and you draw your cartoons for the story, for each of the words and images. And, yeah, you need to take that seriously, but you should also read and draw because really good books and cartoons give you a boner." I was shocked: "Did you just say books should give me a boner?" "Yes, I did." "Are you serious?" "Yeah... don't you get excited about books?" "I don't think that you're supposed to get THAT excited about books." "You should get a boner! You have to get a boner!" Gordy shouted. "Come on!" We ran into the Reardan High School Library. "Look at all these books," he said. "There aren't that many," I said. It was a small library in a small high school in a small town. "There are three thousand four hundred and twelve books here," Gordy said. "I know that because I counted them." "Okay, now you're officially a freak," I said. "Yes, it's a small library. It's a tiny one. But if you read one of these books a day, it would still take you almost ten years to finish." "What's your point?" "The world, even the smallest parts of it, is filled with things you don't know." Wow. That was a huge idea. Any town, even one as small as Reardan, was a place of mystery. And that meant Wellpinit, the smaller, Indian town, was also a place of mystery. "Okay, so it's like each of these books is a mystery. Every book is a mystery. And if you read all of the books ever written, it's like you've read one giant mystery. And no matter how much you learn, you keep on learning so much more you need to learn." "Yes, yes, yes, yes," Gordy said. "Now doesn't that give you a boner?" "I am rock hard," I said.

TRACY MARANDER: [Kurt Cobain] was a really good artist. He would draw cartoons with funny sayings. I have this huge picture of this homeless guy, and it’s a satirical thing on how homeless people are mentally ill, they’re alcoholics, they had messed up childhoods — but they’re expected to fend for themselves in a box in the snow.

Sometimes it's good to be the smartest rat in the sewer.

Did I mention how cute you look in my clothes?" Blushing I just look at what I'm wearing and laugh. "Chicks Dig me? And Sponge Bob boxers?" "Chicks do dig me! And Sponge Bob is a great cartoon in your world.

I thought it was kind of funny when Dionysus ran a Dark-Hunter over with a Mardi Gras float a couple of years ago. That amused me for days on end." He laughed like an evil cartoon villian.

When I started everything, and by everything, I mean life, suicide was a joke. If I have to ride in that car with you, I'll slash my wrists with a butter knife. It was as real as a unicorn. No, less than that. It was as real as the explosion around an animated coyote. A hundred thousand people threaten to kill themselves every day and make a hundred thousand other people laugh, because like a cartoon, it's funny and meaningless. Gone even before you turn off the TV. Then it was a disease. Something other people got, if they lived someplace dirty enough to get the infection under their nails. It was not a pleasant dinner table conversation, Cole, and like the flu, it only killed the weak. If you'd been exposed, you didn't talk about it. Wouldn't want to put other people off their feed. It wasn't until high school that it became a possibility. Not an immediate one, not like It is a possibility I will download this album because the guitar is so sick it makes me want to dance, but possibility in the way that some people said when they grew up, they might be a fireman or an astronaut or a CPA who works late every single weekend while his wife has an affair with the guy who drives the DHL truck. It became a possibility like Maybe when I grow up, I will be dead.

It’s the kind of storm that Yankees make fun of on Facebook with a picture of a spilled cup of ice on the sidewalk that shuts down schools or a cartoon that depicts massive car pileups with one culprit snowflake. It would be funny, if a tenth of an inch of ice in Texas wasn’t deadly.

Dude, you got me cartoon underwear?!” I knew she would like them, they matched her socks. She pulled the pastel fabric from the bag, their kitty faces smiling back at me along with her bemused smirk.

His eyes had that hooded quality that brought a flush to my cheeks. “That’s a great list.” “What about you?” I asked. “What do you want to do when this is all over?” “For real?” When I nodded, he lowered his head, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “I can’t believe you even have to ask that. I plan to be wherever you are.” My lips immediately curved into one of those big, funny-looking smiles as my heart swelled in my chest like an old-school cartoon character’s. I was waiting for my eyes to turn into exaggerated hearts that popped out. “That is...that is the perfect answer.” “That’s because I am perfect." “Well, that wasn’t the perfect answer,” I said drily.

There was an audible gasp, like everyone had been sucker-punched, and the sound reverberated through the hall like he’d just announced that not only was god dead, but he’d also been a hermaphroditic drag queen called Miss Demeanor.

You make me better on the field, but off the field, too, Sky. I love how you make me feel. Being around you is intoxicating and freeing, but it's also the first sense of home I've had in such a long time. You're funny and sweet, and you don't seem to mind that I told you for the first time while that I love you my toddler is singing a cartoon theme song in the background.

As the van door starts to close, Brad suddenly realizes that the instant the doors close completely, the van interior will become the terrifying bland gray space he's heard about all his life, the place one goes when one has been Written Out. The van interior becomes the bland gray space. From the front yard TV comes the brash martial music that indicates UrgentUpdateNewsMinute. Animal rights activists have expressed concern over the recent trend of spraying live Canadian geese with a styrene coating which instantaneously kills them while leaving them extremely malleable, so it then becomes easy to shape them into comical positions and write funny sayings in DryErase cartoon balloons emanating from their beaks, which, apparently, is the new trend for outdoor summer parties.

I hated how sometimes life threw you a curveball—how you thought you were going to make some money selling a stolen tiger to make your dad proud, but then all the sudden there were drugs instead of money and then you were probably going to relapse mostly because you didn’t want to disappoint your best friend who had recently drawn a very funny cartoon about an octopus on your ass cheeks that would not come off your body no matter how hard you scrubbed.

It’s a rare company I visit these days that doesn’t have a Dilbert cartoon posted somewhere. I guess the message of these cartoons is “Our company is in some ways like Dilbert’s company, ” or, even worse, “My boss is in some ways like Dilbert’s boss.” When I encounter these cartoons, I always want to find the person who posted them and ask, “Yes, but are you like Dilbert?” Are you keeping your head down? Are you accepting senseless direction when it’s offered? Are you letting the bureaucracy dominate at the expense of the real goals? If so, I’d like to tell that person, then you’re part of the problem. At the risk of being a total killjoy, I propose that you look at the next Dilbert cartoon that falls under your eye in a totally different way. I propose that you ask yourself about Dilbert’s role in whatever corporate nonsense is the butt of the joke. Ask yourself, How should Dilbert have responded? (The real Dilbert, of course, never responds at all.) How could Dilbert have made this funny situation distinctly nonfunny? What could he have done to put an end to such absurdities? There is always an obvious answer. Sometimes the action is one that would get Dilbert fired. It’s easy (and fair) to blame lousy management on lousy managers. But it’s not enough. It’s also necessary to blame the people who allow themselves to be managed so badly. At least partly at fault for every bad management move is some gutless Dilbert who allows it to happen.

I found out Si was taking naps every day on Kay’s couch! I went to Phil and told him it was a problem. “Look, I know he’s your brother and he’s my uncle, but he’s not the kind of worker we need to have,” I told Phil, while trying to make a good first impression. I was trying to instill a new work ethic and culture in Duck Commander, and I couldn’t have Si sleeping on the job! “Don’t touch Si,” Phil told me. “You leave him alone. He’s making reeds and that’s the hardest thing we do. Si is the only guy who wants to do it, and he’s good at it. Si is fine.” Amazingly enough, in the ten years I’ve been running Duck Commander, we’ve never once run out of reeds. Six years ago, Si suffered a heart attack. He smoked cigarettes for almost forty years and then quit after his heart attack, so we were all so proud of him. Even before his heart attack, I wasn’t sure about putting Si on our DVDs because I thought he would just come across too crazy. He cracked us up in the duck blind and we all loved him, but I told Jep and the other camera guys to film around him. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would understand what he was saying. When we finally tried to put him on the DVDs, he clammed up in front of the camera and looked like a frog in a cartoon just sitting there. He wouldn’t perform. Finally, we put a hidden camera under a shirt on Si’s desk. We were near the end of editing a DVD and showed a shooting scene to Si. He always takes credit for shooting more ducks than he really did. He’s said before that he killed three ducks with one shot! We were watching patterns hitting the water, and Si started claiming the ducks like he always does and going off on one of his long tangents. After we recorded him, we ran the DVD back and showed it to him. I think Si saw that he was actually pretty funny and entertaining if he acted like himself. We started putting Si on the DVDs and he got more and more popular. Now he’s the star of Duck Dynasty!

He studied Sam across the bar. Funny how some people ran so true to type. If you cast Sam as a bartender in a play, the knowing critic would say, “Come now, that’s going too far, being too obvious, why don’t you use a little imagination?” Sam was so Irish-looking that he looked like a cartoon. Only thing wrong about him was his name. He ought to have been called Mike, or Paddy. Hey, who wasn’t using imagination now?

You won the Herblock Award a few years ago and you said that your job is “worrying about how humanity is destroying itself.” Which is a good line, but do you think that is the role of the cartoonist in some way? I’m doing a lot of worrying about humanity destroying itself these days. I think it is an important role of a political cartoonist. I think sometimes it’s probably more acute than others. It’s something that’s hard to deal with sometimes. Right now I find that these aren’t really funny times. There are ludicrous characters and you can make fun of Trump and these ridiculous nominees, but at the same time I don’t want to normalize him. I find myself not even wanting to draw him. I mean, I do and I will, but I don’t want to treat him like any other President. I’ve been struggling with that. How to be humorous at a time when things are just very serious. I guess what I wind up doing is somewhat darker humor, darker cartoons, and more informative cartoons that say, this is what’s happening, can you believe it? With the Bush administration things were terrible and there were definitely some dark times, but I felt like you could make fun of Bush for being a buffoon and the implications just weren’t quite as grave. It’s a different time now. (Interview with Comicsbeat)

Funny Times" is the best little cartoon monthly out there (Interview with Washington City Paper)

Once, I watched a Soviet cartoon about a lost mitten. That cartoon went on for forty minutes. The mitten did not do ANYTHING.

If you’ve never been on a chartered flight full of people who are afraid to fly who have also been traumatized in the past twelve hours, I recommend it more than a cruise. It’s pretty funny. Everyone is jittery, and when the pilot makes the unfortunate choice of testing the PA system by saying, “Bravo, bravo,” you can almost hear people’s b-holes tighten. A collective cartoon-mouse squeak of b-hole.

Crooking a finger, she beckoned him. Crawl back in bed and try to keep his mind off sinking his hard cock into her sweetness, or take a really cold fucking shower— while giving himself a hand job to better help him keep his promise to her of not claiming her before she was ready. He chose pure torture. He crawled back into bed with her. Was the “Eep,” that escaped him as the touch of her burrowing against him very manly? No, and neither was his feline very supportive considering it did a flop and stuck its legs in the air, lolled its tongue, and pretended it was cartoon dead. Very fucking funny. But true. It might kill him having her spooned so close, and him promising to not claim her. Yet, how could he refuse her when she said, “Will you sleep with me and keep the nightmares away?” He uttered a mournful second “Eep” as her buttocks fitted against his groin, but he used the torture as a strengthening exercise all the while thinking, my woman, mine, as he held her in his arms.

The thing about being a screenwriter, scriptwriter, or scenarist, You get to have multiple personalities and not be charged!

Cartoons are data. If people find them funny, that tells us something about the world.

List your ten favorite comedians and humorists, and search for jokes, tweets, or quotes by each of these individuals. After you amass twenty jokes, identify the subject or target of the joke, and explain why you think the joke is funny. This exercise will help you become aware of the format of successful jokes and provide you with insight into your own comedic preferences. Collect ten to fifteen cartoons or comics. As you did with the jokes, identify the target of the humor and describe why the cartoon is funny to you. You may find it helpful to continue building a file of jokes and cartoons that appeal to you. In addition to building a joke and cartoon file, you’ll need to find new material to use as the building blocks for your humor writing. Most professional humor writers begin each day by reading a newspaper, watching news on TV, and/or surfing the Internet for incidents and situations that might provide joke material. As you read this book and complete the exercises at the end of each chapter, form a daily habit of recording odd and funny news events. Everyday life is the main source for humor, so you need to keep some type of personal humor journal. To facilitate psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud had patients complete a dream diary, and he encouraged them to associate freely during therapy. To be a successful writer and to tap into the full potential of your comic persona, you should follow an analogous approach. Record everyday events, ideas, or observations that you find funny, and do your journaling without any form of censorship. The items you list are not intended to be funny, but to serve as starting points for writing humor.

Shara met me at the airport in London, dressed in her old familiar blue woolen overcoat that I loved so much. She was bouncing like a little girl with excitement. Everest was nothing compared to seeing her. I was skinny, long-haired, and wearing some very suspect flowery Nepalese trousers. I short, I looked a mess, but I was so happy. I had been warned by Henry at base camp not to rush into anything “silly” when I saw Shara again. He had told me it was a classic mountaineers’ error to propose as soon as you get home. High altitude apparently clouds people’s good judgment, he had said. In the end, I waited twelve months. But during this time I knew that this was the girl I wanted to marry. We had so much fun together that year. I persuaded Shara, almost daily, to skip off work early from her publishing job (she needed little persuading, mind), and we would go on endless, fun adventures. I remember taking her roller-skating through a park in central London and going too fast down a hill. I ended up headfirst in the lake, fully clothed. She thought it funny. Another time, I lost a wheel while roller-skating down a steep busy London street. (Cursed skates!) I found myself screeching along at breakneck speed on only one skate. She thought that one scary. We drank tea, had afternoon snoozes, and drove around in “Dolly,” my old London black cab that I had bought for a song. Shara was the only girl I knew who would be willing to sit with me for hours on the motorway--broken down--waiting for roadside recovery to tow me to yet another garage to fix Dolly. Again. We were (are!) in love. I put a wooden board and mattress in the backseat so I could sleep in the taxi, and Charlie Mackesy painted funny cartoons inside. (Ironically, these are now the most valuable part of Dolly, which sits majestically outside our home.) Our boys love playing in Dolly nowadays. Shara says I should get rid of her, as the taxi is rusting away, but Dolly was the car that I will forever associate with our early days together. How could I send her to the scrapyard? In fact, this spring, we are going to paint Dolly in the colors of the rainbow, put decent seat belts in the backseat, and go on a road trip as a family. Heaven. We must never stop doing these sorts of things. They are what brought us together, and what will keep us having fun. Spontaneity has to be exercised every day, or we lose it. Shara, lovingly, rolls her eyes.

Then I think of what a stupid reason that is for Ben to die. He died over Fruity Pebbles. It would be funny if it wasn’t so… It will never be funny. Nothing about this is funny. Even the fact that I lost my husband because I had a craving for a children’s cereal based on the Flintstones cartoon. I hate myself for this. That’s who I hate the most.

I don’t give two shits about your funny story,” mutters Trager. “I’m just saying, this is fucking childish.” “Says the guy with the cartoon tiger tattooed on his back,” Beckett replies with a chuckle. “Staring at that godawful thing is what gave me the idea for that thought experiment.” “You’re seriously trashing my tattoo?” Trager snaps. “A man’s tattoos are sacred.” “So are a man’s eyes, and your tattoo is hurting mine,” drawls Beck.

Here, Monsieur, please tell me honestly what you think of this cartoon. Let’s not talk about the drawing, which is childish, but the picture’s funny, very funny; I say this proudly.” Funny! No, I didn’t think so. Although Doctor Magne did not think so, personally I found it very skillfully drawn, but funny? A Bid’homme, an eerie likeness, but like a wild animal with a devilish grin that was ferociously exaggerated, was busy digging around with one of his blessed spurs in the skull of a scalped and drilled patient. It was a horror, a horror! Absolutely yes! as Monsieur Oswald-Norbert Nigeot would have said.

We advertise good friendships as part of the Complete Teenage Experience, because good friendships make for great stories. Content creators romanticize adolescent friendships the same way Hallmark movies treat love: there is a lid for every pot, a yin for every yang, and a savior for every screwup. Turn on any Netflix original movie about teenagers or read any great YA book, and you will see that the perfect sidekick (funny! supportive! quirky! endlessly loyal!) is a fixture in each teen’s life. In reality, middle school friendships play out less like Netflix originals, and more like those toy commercials that came on during Saturday morning cartoons when we were kids. As an only child, I remember yearning to have the same fun those kids were having, begging my parents for the Barbie Jeep or Hot Wheels Track until they gave in. But soon after ripping the toy from its packaging, I came to the stark realization that it was nothing like advertised. Those kids were only pretending to have fun, the set designers made the toys seem infinitely cooler than they actually were, and more often than not, we didn’t even have the right-sized batteries. What a colossal disappointment! Especially when those kids on TV looked like they were having the time of their lives.

It’s not funny,” she said. Her face showed real fear, and Turnbull pulled himself together. “I just got shushed by a grown man in a cartoon fox suit,” he said. “How am I supposed to take this seriously?

Amber bulbs dangle on white strings above our heads, making everyone in the restaurant look like a cartoon character with a bright idea.

Also, I can't believe that group calls themselves the Elite Four. That is absolutely hilarious." "Why is that hilarious? Seems more pretentious to me." "Because the Elite Four is a Pokémon thing. They're the top four trainers in their region. How do you not---" "That's funny, I didn't think of Pokémon, I thought of Boys Over Flowers. Like the F4," Elena said. "Me too!" I may not know much about cartoons and anime, but J-dramas and K-dramas? Elena was speaking my language.

He’s frozen, we’re frozen like this, his arms crossed and resting just above my very clenched behind. Ovaries can’t make sounds internally, right? Like how a stomach growls? His ear is pressed so close to them. I can practically feel my eggs screaming in tiny cartoon voices, ‘We’re in here, sweet virile man! Save us from this would-be spinster she-devil! Let us not waste in vain!

A hundred thousand people threaten to kill themselves every day and make a hundred thousand other people laugh, because like a cartoon, it’s funny and meaningless.

They put us on a chartered flight back to New York. If you’ve never been on a chartered flight full of people who are afraid to fly who have also been traumatized in the past twelve hours, I recommend it more than a cruise. It’s pretty funny. Everyone is jittery, and when the pilot makes the unfortunate choice of testing the PA system by saying, “Bravo, bravo,” you can almost hear people’s b-holes tighten. A collective cartoon-mouse squeak of b-hole.

I am disappointed that you have replaced some good, old-fashioned and humorous cartoons with distasteful ones. For example, "The Far Side" by Gary Larson is not funny, just lacking in good taste. "Calvin and Hobbes" by Watterson could be more acceptable if made less offensive (at times). "Doonesbury" and "Bloom County," I suppose, reflect our times. Far better for our newspaper to be working to change what is so unacceptable to us all in these times. Many other cartoons are funny, likable and reflective of the real and good in our country. -- Mary Kohler, Yonkers (letter published in the Herald Statesman, Yonkers NY, 11/12/86) Quoted in /The Bloom County Library/

I feel that the cartoon should involve something happening that could not possibly happen, but which has a kind of truth to it. There should be a give-and-take between the truth and the implausibility. If those two things are going on at the exact same time, and they’re both equal in weight, then the brain has a conflict that it has to resolve, and it can only resolve it through laughter.

Just as music courses enhance our appreciation by dissecting melody, rhythm, and harmony, Funny Stuff accomplishes a similar feat for gag cartoons.

By classifying cartoons according to type of humor, we are not plucking them up with a tweezer and inserting them into specimen jars to be put on a dusty shelf for exhibit, like a nineteenth-century taxonomist at a natural history museum. That would kill the funny.

I feel that the cartoon should involve something happening that could not possibly happen, but which has a kind of truth to it. There should be a give-and-take between the truth and the implausibility. If those two things are going on at the exact same time, and they’re both equal in weight, then the brain has a conflict that it has to resolve, and it can only resolve it through laughter.

I propounded a theory that The New Yorker purposely included in each issue one cartoon that wasn’t funny at all, so that the reader would assume that he must be witnessing “subtle humor beyond his power of perception,

Just as music courses enhance our appreciation by dissecting melody, rhythm, and harmony, Funny Stuff accomplishes a similar feat for gag cartoons. - Bob Mankoff, Funny Stuff: How Great Cartoonists Make Great Cartoons

The creative process doesn't begin with humor. It begins with subject matter.

I dream [a cartoon] into being by imagining how I want it to be. I lead with my imagination and, inevitably, the brush follows.

I saw that my drawings had to be of a simplicity that would match the idiocy I was seeking.

One of the greatest, most wonderful things about cartooning is that it's so much up to the person doing it and how they want to do it. There's no one way.

Cartooning for me is my art. I take it very seriously. It's highbrow, it's Daumier.

[My compulsion to create] is like a mental illness that I work out in cartoons.

It is nice to get your cartoons accepted, but if you can get past that and just draw for yourself and just try not to give a s***, which I know sounds arrogant, but that's how you have to be.

[Sam Gross] had some very interesting words of wisdom, one of which was 'Just remember, any minute it can all turn to s***.' That is sort of my general mindset, that all sorts of different anvils can fall out of the sky at any time.

Just as music courses enhance our appreciation by dissecting melody, rhythm, and harmony, Funny Stuff accomplishes a similar feat for gag cartoons.

I feel that the cartoon should involve something happening that could not possibly happen, but which has a kind of truth to it. There should be a give-and-take between the truth and the implausibility. If those two things are going on at the exact same time, and they’re both equal in weight, then the brain has a conflict that it has to resolve, and it can only resolve it through laughter.