Looking for some of that sweet-ass New Yorker exposure (and cashola!), I’ve taken to throwing together cover ideas and tossing them into the ghost mail when they occur to me. Being Mr. Fish and knowing that Eustace Tilley is on the receiving end of my pitches, I sometimes feel as if I’m casting expletives into a quilting bee and expecting to reel in an enthusiastic lover of anarchy and name-calling. Here are 2 recent ones, as tame as kittens.
Catherine the Great wore heeled boots – who knew?
And the horse kept two on? No wonder the outcome was tragic…
they’re great. no attention? so… go a little wilder. give Eustace a boyfriend and a smirk. or a girlfriend standing behind him (and you can barely see the harness she’s wearing).
isn’t one of the criteria for getting your stuff published in the new yorker is that it has to suck?
I guess the horse is “tame.” : D
Both sets are too good. They’ll never get used.