I can’t stand looking into your eyes.

“I remember listening to this driving through southern France with my girlfriend twenty years ago,” I said, “and even then it was old.”

“No,” she corrected, “the music is timeless. On the other hand, you are certainly old.”

“Brandon,” I asked, “why did you move back to Flint? I thought you were so happy to escape.”

“Exactly,” Brandon replied.

“Exactly what?” I responded.

“I enjoyed leaving so much the first time,” Brandon explained, “I came back so I could do it again.”

I’m skeptical, but perhaps that’s because I’m a pragmatist. Or, at least I’m not a masochist.

Anita appreciates Thanksgiving, but mainly for the suicides in the newspaper.

“A Thanksgiving suicide is irreproachable,” Anita explained. “Surely there’s no more pure example of nothing to be thankful for than taking one’s own life on Thanksgiving.”

For me, though, I shall continue to celebrate the day for more nebulous reasons.

The moral of the story is this: cartooning is tough, but editors are tougher.

“I’d consider lowering your expectations,” I advised. “That usually works for me.”

“Any other suggestions?” Julia asked skeptically.

“Well, then you might want to think about redefining success,” I suggested.

“Any more constructive ideas?” Julia continued.

“Maybe,” I replied, “although this is probably a corollary for the other suggestions. Try being a legend in your own mind; that approach has always worked for me.”