Dear eyeballs,
An anonymous person in my family recently told me that they diligently read ToonStack each week, only they don’t read the text, “just the cartoons.” Well, who can blame them? There are too many words and images asking for our attention these days! “Just the cartoons” is how most respectable people read The New Yorker, and this impatience for that elite hit of dopamine is what birthed ToonStack to begin with.
Our attention is our greatest possession. Do we give it to art, to politics, to our homes and families, to influencers and advertisers?
How I really feel about social media stands in direct contrast with the number of times I’ve checked Instagram since starting this post. Said Marshall McLuhan in 1964: “Once we have surrendered our senses and nervous systems to the private manipulation of those who would try to benefit from taking a lease on our eyes and ears and nerves, we don't really have any rights left.” Said me, right now: Lease me your eyes, readers, for some toons about attention. It’s a fixed term lease, and I promise I wont try to sell you any sweat-proof undergarments or block-heel summer sandals meanwhile.
Liam Francis Walsh
I didn't have a smartphone when I did this cartoon back in 2013, so it was easy for me to observe (with smug superiority) how quickly the gizmos were devouring people's attention and putting paid to the ancient art of the short, halting elevator conversation. Now, almost a decade la-- Oh, an ad for those books I put in my shopping cart. Huh. Some suggestions, too. Oh jeezus, the Cats Pooping calendar? Why do I always see that one?! So flippin' rand-- I'm sorry, where was I? Have you seen that Cats Pooping calendar? I always, always see that in my ads, and I don't like cats or pooping. Anyway, it's almost a decade later, and now I have a smartphone -- Maybe I should screenshot the Cats Pooping calendar and post it on my socials with a comment about how dumb the algorithm is! Done. – Okay... So, now I have a smartphone and I'm addicted to it, because having a smartphone and not being addicted to it is like having a heroin habit and not being a junkie: there's a good chance you're in denial, and in the unlikely event you're not hooked yet, your prognosis isn't -- I wonder if I've gotten any comments from people I admire? "Gosh, only you could post this, Liam, you unique, hilarious diamond!" Oh, Neil Gaiman, you flatterer! Okay, going to check. Nothing. Gotta wait a little longer. Right, so... yeah, your prognosis isn't -- I wonder if I have any comments, now?
PS: I talked about this cartoon's genesis in a video for The New Yorker, here.
Liana Finck
This is a cartoon I made while trying to do too many things at once. I’ve always loved Alice in Wonderland. I was thinking about how “eat me” and “drink me” are alluring directions if you’re not overburdened with things to do, but there can be too much of a good thing.
Ellis Rosen
I have the ability to look a person in the eye while they are talking to me, nod along and not hear a single word they are saying. You say it's rude, but here's the thing: I already have a thought going on in my head, and you just interrupted it, and I just happen to be bad at putting thoughts aside to finish them later. Is what you are trying to tell me important? Probably. Is my thought important? Absolutely not. But I’m afraid that I am just going to have to finish thinking about how I can make a cartoon about a dog driving a zamboni while you keep talking about how the ‘house is on fire’ and ‘we need to get out now’. Or whatever it is you’re babbling about.
Johnny Dinapoli
In middle school and high school, teachers always put the same comment on my report cards: “talks excessively in class.” I like to think I was talking about urgent and interesting matters, but in reality I was probably just talking about the episode of House I watched last night.
Navied Mahdavian
In college I got really into feral children. In case you’re unfamiliar, they’re kids that for one reason or another end up living alone, isolated from other people (they were self-isolating before it was cool). Romulus and Remus are two famous feral children, having been raised and nursed by a she-wolf (they were furries before it was cool). Every so often, a story about a modern feral child will pop up, like Robert who was raised by monkeys in Uganda, or Ivan who was raised by street dogs in Russia, or Baron, who was raised by a pile of money in a power suit in New York. They make headlines because they allow us to ponder fundamental questions about what it means to be a human, like “Is morality innate?” “Is there a critical period for language acquisition?” Or “Do street dogs pester their human children about not calling enough?”
Hilary Campbell
What do we think is the attention span of rats? Please send me your opinions.
Sofia Warren
Love is attention, and everyone just wants to be seen…so why do people get mad at me when I tell them that they have a pronounced brow, or that their left breast is smaller than their right? Boggles the mind.
Jason Adam Katzenstein
No we cannot.
Shelby Lorman
A fun fact about me? ToonStack’s most elusive (unreliable) and photorealistic (look at them) contributor? When I started cartooning, my day job was writing about the attention economy. I still write about this in case you are interested. I promptly pivoted to gaming the attention economy to get attention for my own very important musings, like the below toon, just like a Silicon Valley tycoon who has had a sudden realization (hired a new PR person) that his creation has destroyed the fabric of democracy and also our brains. Please ask me about it!
News from ToonStackians:
Liana Finck’s latest book is Let There Be Light. Order today, and also follow her new Substack newsletter!
Check out Liam Francis Walsh’s new graphic novel Red Scare!
Sofia Warren’s Radical: My Year with a Socialist Senator is out and available!
Join Amy Kurzweil on Patreon and take a cartoon class with her once a month!
Listen to Hilary’s new podcast What’d You Do This Weekend?
See more cartoons from Ellis Rosen’s weekly Junk Drawer!
It began years ago (in the 50s) browsing dextrosinistrally through National Geographics--So many pictures! Such tiny hands!--so natural, flipping left thumbedly, pointing indextrally, pausing here and there (in later years) to read a caption, view a ritual; and now--all thumbs, fumbling to swipe or scroll, like or troll--dancing the logarithm of captured souls.