February 2024
Vol. XIV, No. 2

February 2024

The Cartoon (aka Mark Addison Kershaw) Issue

Drawings by Redmer Hoekstra.

Laughter is the closest distance between two people.” ― Victor Borge

From the Publishing-Editor: I nag Mark Addison Kershaw. Every month. I nag all of Hubris’s Contributors, but I single Mark out for special attention. Because he makes me smile, always, and, many times, he makes me laugh. An aeon ago (in 2007, back when our daily demons seemed less numerous or toothsome), Stephen Colbert wrote: “Not living in fear is a great gift, because certainly these days we do it so much. And do you know what I like about comedy? You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time—of anything. If you’re laughing, I defy you to be afraid.” Which is why I nag Mark, and why I am so happy, so wreathed with smiles, when his cartoons land (eventually, late) on my virtual desk. In a time of such horror and anxiety, Mark brings me a lady on a park bench with a sack of peanuts she has brought along to feed . . . the birds. Thing is, an elephant has materialized before her, not pigeons. This surprise turns up the corners of my lips. I look at each cartoon Mark sends me carefully. I study it. And then, I smile, or I chuckle. For the duration, I am not afraid. This month, the second in our brand new year, I have made a selection of Mark’s cartoons, picked from the bouquet he’s been sending me (though not often enough) since December of 2018. Each and every one of Mark’s cartoons is, for me, a hapax legomenon (which, discerning readers may have noticed) is the name of my column here on Hubris). As per Wikipedia: “In corpus linguistics, a hapax legomenon . . .  is a word or an expression that occurs only once within a context: either in the written record of an entire language, in the works of an author, or in a single text. The term is sometimes incorrectly used to describe a word that occurs in just one of an author’s works but more than once in that particular work. Hapax legomenon is a transliteration of Greek ἅπαξ λεγόμενον, meaning ‘being said once.’” A hapax is utterly unique, as is each and every one of Mark’s cartoons. As is Mark, himself. A one-off, as it were. So, this February, Hubris opens with a sampling of some of my favorite Addisonian cartoons and goes on to reprise six other monthly cartoon portfolios from months and years past. Scroll on, then, Beloved Readers, and fear not, for the duration.

Drawing by Redmer Hoekstra.
Drawing by Redmer Hoekstra.

About Redmer Hoekstra, the Home Page Artist for the February 2024 issues of “Hubris”: Redmer Hoekstra, a Dutch artist based in Elst, graduated from The ArtEZ Academy of Art & Design in Zwolle. “As a child,” he says, “I was a daydreamer, with all sorts of private theories about how the world worked. I managed to reanimate this approach while at the academy, and then express it in my drawing. My work consists of pen drawings on paper, and involves a laborious and almost traditional technique: one drawing takes me an average of from 32 to 40 hours. Shading then creates a play of light and a feeling of spaciousness. I think it is important to make the drawings as realistic as possible so that ‘the alienation’ I envision comes across all the more strongly. Viewers are initially ‘fooled,’ only seeing what is really before their eyes on the second or third glance. This affords a nice opening to . . . wonder for me; wonder being one of the most beautiful of human capabilities.” Shop for various iterations of Hoekstra’s work here or on Etsy here; and follow him on Facebook and Instagram.

Addison-Line Art
Cartoon by Addison.

Hapax Legoumenon

My Very Favorite Mark Addison Kershaw Cartoons,By Elizabeth Boleman-Herring

PENDLETON South Carolina—(Hubris)—February 2024—I nag Mark Addison Kershaw. Every month. I nag all of Hubris’s Contributors, but I single Mark out for special attention. Because he makes me smile, always, and, many times, he makes me laugh. An aeon ago (in 2007, back when our daily demons seemed less numerous or toothsome), Stephen Colbert wrote: “Not living in fear is a great gift, because certainly these days we do it so much. And do you know what I like about comedy? You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time—of anything. If you’re laughing, I defy you to be afraid.” (Read more . . .)

Kershaw hugger
Cartoon by Addison.


Hugging Was Enough For a While, but Then . . .By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—This portfolio of black-and-white whimsies first appeared in Hubris in February 2019, and features a half dozen of Kershaw’s single-panel cartoons depicting trees (of which he has drawn many). As in the second toon below, trees harbor unexpected visions for our discerning Atlanta observer, and dryads invisible to hoi polloi. When Mark sends me a tree, it often echoes one of Shel Silverstein’s of yore: endlessly giving. (“Once there was a tree . . . and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest.”) But Mark’s trees also receive, have agency, and gumption: hugging’s no longer enough for them. They want more. (Read more . . .)

“My conscious is suspicious,” by Addison.
Cartoon by Addison.


A Brush with Life,By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—I am a fortunate editor. Sooo fortunate. I get to publish (however widely I can, and however often) the work (cough)—work, I say!—of Mark Addison Kershaw! And, at my advanced age, I am no longer confined to one of those tiny little desks I once occupied at the University of Georgia’s Park Hall, where my English professors often asked me, in one class or another, to weigh in on Humor. On why things are funny to us. On why it is we laugh, and what makes us laugh. Well, “It is death,” I would say. “It is death that makes us laugh. Death, dismemberment, and things that go bump in the night.” As though I knew anything at all about it at my age back then. (Read more . . .

Kershaw trees
Cartoon by Addison.


“Amish Phone Sex?By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—We’ve not seen hide nor hair of Mark Addison Kershaw, aka The Artist Known as Addison, since September 2020. He has been on Facebook, in his dual roles as Lockdown Cartoonist-at-Large and photographer-in-residence in less-and-less-wooded-and-birded ex-urban Atlanta, but we are very pleased to have him back here at Hubris, with or without a beard, having become (or most likely not) a cat, and participating in someone’s pandemic fantasies, in one guise or another (perhaps Amish?). If this is going to last, he need not morph into another sort of beast, but always remain (she hopes) one that can hold a pen in its paw. (Read more . . .)

Fix the mess in Washington.
Cartoon by Addison.


“The Pale Beyond,By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—If you attend to Mark Addison Kershaw on Facebook, you will encounter a person of very little language, spoken or written, accompanied by a dog, enamored of a cat; someone who, even before the current plague, stuck pretty close to home. He comes armed with a pen (for drawing) and a camera (for preserving Georgia wildlife in situ), and infuses all he does and casts his eye upon with gentle (if sometimes a tad ribald) wit. His cast of characters is familiar; his familiars are familiar. But he stands at an angle to the pale; to the world or situation or predicament as perceived by . . . the rest of us. (Read more . . .)

Cartoon by Addison.


His Tail is So Damn Fluffy,By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—In preparation for March 2020s themed issue on Woman/Women, I interviewed our resident cartoonist, asking him some pointed, if indeed pointless, questions about his (and our) subject matter. Elizabeth Boleman-Herring: How do you feel about women in general? Kershaw: I chanced upon a live woman once . . . in reality, not just online, and I remember walking away from that encounter thinking it was quite a pleasant experience. I hope someday to have another parley with one of these fascinating creatures, as it is my understanding they are becoming more frequently seen in the streets and countryside and seated in positions of prominence. (Read more . . .)

Cartoon by Addison.


Earthly Pleasures,By Mark Addison Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Hubris)—February 2024—Have I mentioned before that The Cartoonist Known as Addison and I have never actually met in person? I think our reluctance stems from the fact that, after all these years of working virtually hand-in-glove at Hubris, we’re now afraid to meet: so many expectations; so little hope of capturing in the analog the passionate love affair we have in the aether (as it were). Imagine Beauvoir in rural South Carolina, and Sartre in suburban Atlanta (or Calvin in Pendleton, and Hobbes in Buckhead). One of these days, we must rectify this situation, but, for the time being, here Addison is, penning whimsies for you, and here I am, blathering on about what an honor it is to publish them, never having met the man. (Read more . . .)

Poet Claire Bateman.
Poet Claire Bateman.

Hapax Legoumenon

Poet Claire Bateman’s Wonders of The Invisible World,By Elizabeth Boleman-Herring

PENDLETON South Carolina—(Hubris)—January 2024—I open with “Cost” because it is so brief, such a true “lyric” on its face but, already, some three decades ago, of a piece with all of Bateman’s writing, a communiqué whose meaning, whose message, is uncontainable by what readers tend to see as, to name, a “poem.” Claire Bateman is not really writing “poetry,” but what else am I to call it? As Poetry Editor here at Hubris, Bateman regularly introduces readers to work by living poets they might otherwise miss, given the hurly burly of verbiage now landing day in and day out before our jaded eyes. (Read more . . .)

Chiara-Sophia Coyle-barley field
“Barley Field.”

Clicks & Relativity

Emulsion & More Metaphysical Transference,By Chiara-Sophia Coyle

SONOMA California—(Hubris)—January 2023—If you have followed me on Hubris, you probably know that I am persistently attracted to abstract photography and drawn towards the abstract in rust, “my” Greek blue, reflections, and sometimes floral subjects. Abstraction, and bold colors. The light. Why, you may wonder?  What does all this mean to me? I feel a vulnerable share may be coming up here. My story starts on a small island in Greece, my “patrida” (homeland) and, if truth be told, the fact that I have now lived in the US almost as long as I lived in Greece is something I have trouble reckoning with. (Read more . . .)

First-edition jacket of Steinbeck’s Sweet Thursday. 
Sweet Thursday.

Fairly Unbalanced

Forever Sweet Thursday,By Michael Tallon

ANTIGUA Guatemala—(Hubris)—January 2024—For reasons that could only make sense to a child who didn’t understand much about life, getting through high school without reading a book was a point of pride for me. I aced tests on Wuthering Heights thinking that Heathcliff was a cat and only remembered Winston Smith’s name when the exam came around, because I had a pack of smokes in my jacket pocket. (Read more . . .)

“Jill tries to talk sense to me,” by Ted Jouflas. 
Jill tries to talk sense.

Desperado Shindig

Gossip,By Ted Jouflas

PHOENIX Arizona—(Hubris)—January 2024—As a little boy in Los Angeles in the 1960s, the music I listened to was The Doors, The Monkees, and Shirley Temple. The Doors made sense because they were from LA, so liking them was the same thing as liking The Dodgers. Besides that, they were dark and gothic, like a monster movie, which was my very own point of view. The Monkees also made sense because, as a child, I didn’t know the difference between a real band and a fake manufactured one. They also had a television show, something The Doors didn’t have. (Read more . . .)

Time is running out.
Time is running out.

Planetary Hospice

Deer in Headlights: Young People & Abrupt Climate Change,By Dr. Guy McPherson

BELLOWS FALLS Vermont—(Hubris)—January 2024—The headline of a story on Medium published in November 2023 reads: “When It Comes to Climate Change, the Kids Are Not All Right.” The subhead is: “They worried they have no future.” Author Theresa Ann Story, opens with this anecdote: “Not long ago, a science teacher at a local middle school graciously gave me some time at the end of her day to discuss what students are learning about climate change. When I arrived, two students were still in the classroom, young girls who were laughing and chatting as they helped tidy up the desks. (Read more . . .)

The Parthenon at night. (Photo: AussieActive via Unsplash.)
The Parthenon at night.

Nothing at All to Write Home About

Room With a View,By Matt Barrett

CARRBORO North Carolina & KEA Greece—(Hubris)—January 2024—The other night, lying in bed at the Hotel Herodion, I saw Andrea get up and pull the curtains. I have seen this before. She is a light sleeper and, when she wakes up for whatever reason, she focuses on something external that is not allowing her to sleep. Maybe it’s a streetlight outside our window, or a blinking diode on a computer or a battery charger, or the face of a clock, or the sound of water running through the pipes, or the air conditioner or a fan. I can sense her anger and, even though I am awake, I pretend to sleep in case the thing that is keeping her awake happens to be me. (Read more . . .)

Abandoned dinghy, Kos, Greece.
Abandoned dinghy.

Imagination’s Flavors

Broken Oars (Revisited),By Don Schofield

THESSALONIKI Greece—(Hubris)—January 2024—It’s been a little over eight years since I traveled to the Greek island of Kos to join other volunteers in assisting refugees making the treacherous night-journey from Turkey in overcrowded dinghies. By now, the “refugee crisis,” as the powers that be have dubbed it, has receded from the headlines, even though thousands are still living in squalid, fenced-in camps in Greece, and tens of thousands more in other camps throughout Europe. And the destitute and desperate keep arriving. (Read more . . .)

Buddy Rich and band, with Jon Burr on bass.
Buddy Rich Big Band.

West Side Stories

Buddy Rich’s Cantonese Bass Player,By Ross Konikoff

HALLANDALE Florida—(Hubris)—January 2024—Back in 1977, after Jon Burr, our long-standing bass player, left the Buddy Rich band, we travelled from town to town in search of a suitable replacement, using local guys from each town, each of whom failed miserably, night after night. As most bass players were aware at the time, the first night playing bass in Buddy’s band was the equivalent of jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, following which few survive. (Read more . . .)

“Jesus,” by James Charles. (Image by James Charles, via deMilked.com).
A James Charles $50.

Skip the B.S.

Wearing the Condom of Financial Responsibility: Thrift,By Skip Eisiminger

CLEMSON, South Carolina—(Hubris)—January 2024—Several months after Eckehard’s wife died, Ecki, who, let’s say, lived well within his means, settled on a supper party at his sister’s urging to thank the local German-American community who’d brought food and flowers to the house for weeks. The day before the party, Ecki phoned Frieda, whose husband managed one of Eckehard’s hosiery mills, and asked if she’d drive to Anderson (about 30 miles round trip), buy some frozen raspberry squares at Sam’s Discount Grocery Club, and bring them with her on Friday evening. (Read more . . .)

Cape May winter sky.
Cape May in winter.

Words & Wonder

Sometimes in Winter,By Kathryn E. Livingston

CAPE MAY New Jersey—(Hubris)—January 2024—Without spilling the personal details of a dear friend’s recent health crisis, I’ll just say that serving as health care proxy is not a walk in the park. For several months, my mind has been consumed with decisions I’d rather not have to make, my thoughts centered around hospitals, rehab facilities, health aides, bills, medical supplies, medications, forms, diets, physical therapists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, lawyers, physicians, and nurses. Oh, and lest I forget . . . death. (Read more . . .)

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