The Beatles

Her Majesty


Signed prints: The signed prints are just $40.00 each. Every cartoon on this site is available. You can pay through PayPal. If you don’t like PayPal, you can snail mail it to Clay Jones, P.O. Box 3721, Fredericksburg, VA 22402. I can mail the prints directly to you or if you’re purchasing as a gift, directly to the person you’re gifting.

Notes on my book, Tales From The Trumpster Fire: There are 19 copies of my book in stock, which go for $45.00 each, signed. Also, I have copies of my first book from 1997, Knee-Deep in Mississippi available for $20.00.

Tip Jar: if you want to support the cartoonist, please send a donation through PayPal to clayjonz@gmail.com. You can also snail it to P.O. Box 3721, Fredericksburg, VA 22402.

Watch me draw:

Goodbye, Monkee


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I’m not saying that what Mike Nesmith contributed to the world wasn’t important. I’m just saying it wasn’t really important to me.

Sometimes, for a political cartoonist, you draw a cartoon to commemorate the life of a public figure that didn’t really have any impact on you, but you are recognizing the impact it had on others. I’m not even doing that here. The thing is, I had no interest in doing a Mike Nesmith cartoon. Sure, I care about people but I care about Mike Nesmith about as much as I care about anyone I don’t know. The music of Mike Nesmith never affected me. Hell, I appreciate The Archies’ “Sugar Sugar” more than I can appreciate “Day Dream Believer” or “Last Train to Clarksville,” and Nesmith didn’t write either of those songs.

So, why did I do this cartoon if I don’t care about Mike Nesmith? I thought it was funny and it’s Sunday.

For the most part, The Monkees were not a band. They didn’t write their songs and they didn’t play on their own albums. They were pre-Milli Vanilli. They did not contribute to “their” music until their very last album. I know Mike Nesmith was a songwriter and he had hits after The Monkees, but if you’re my age, you can’t name any of them. Ringo probably wrote more hits.

I have seen a lot of Monkee cartoons this weekend but unlike this one, they were nice.

I saw one friend post on social media that Mike Nesmith was a huge part of his childhood which puzzles me since we’re the same age. The Monkees were in reruns by the time I was old enough to notice anything that wasn’t cake or balloons. The Monkees being a huge part of someone’s childhood who is in their 50s today, would be like growing up with Green Acres and Gilligan’s Island. Sure, I paid attention to that stuff along with the Partridge Family and the Brady Bunch, but I wasn’t hit hard when Gilligan died. Maybe more so with Mary Ann.

So if anyone my age says Mike Nesmith was a huge part of their childhood, they’re probably his kids.

But it’s possible my friend grew up with The Monkees because I grew up with The Beatles, but I didn’t start paying any attention to them until John Lennon was murdered. It was a few months later when a friend introduced me to their music…and I’m still listening to it. But if you grew up listening to The Monkees, there’s something wrong with you.

Listening to The Monkees over the Beatles would be like reading Cracked Magazine instead of Mad.
It would be like watching Deep Impact over Armageddon.
It would be like rocking out to Dokken over Van Halen.
It would be like drinking Pepsi over Coke. Or, just let your Coke go flat and drink that.
It would be like going to Long John Silvers instead of Captain D’s.
It would be like going to Atlantic City instead of going to Las Vegas.
It would be like eating a duck on Thanksgiving instead of a turkey. Who wants leftover duck sandwiches?
It would be like going on a beach vacation in Florida instead of a beach vacation in Hawaii.
It would be like casting Ben Affleck over Matt Damon.
It would be like watching a Kevin Smith film instead of one by Steve Speilberg. Kevin Smith has NEVER made a good movie.
It would be like watching Twilight instead of Interview With A Vampire.
It would be like using ketchup instead of mustard. Fight me.
It would be like eating North Carolina BBQ instead of Memphis or even the BBQ at Arby’s.
It would be like eating Cincinnati chili over any other kind of chili, including Wendy’s chili.
It would be like listening to Nickelback instead of Nirvana.
It would be like jamming to Candlebox instead of Pearl Jam.
It would be like listening to Avril Lavigne over Amy Winehouse.
It would be like playing a Squier over a Fender.
It would be like eating a Mounds over a peanut butter cup.
It would be like going to Burger King instead of Five Guys.
It would be like any chicken sandwich instead of Popeye’s spicy chicken sandwich. I saw Jesus after my first bite.
It would be like watching Futbol instead of hockey. I still don’t know what’s going on out there.
It would be like watching Lord of the Rings instead of Star Wars.
It would be like watching DC’s Justice League over the Marvel Avengers movies.
It would be like picking Aquaman over Wolverine.
It would be like watching Sex in the City over Die Hard.
It would be like watching Brad Pitt’s World War Z over Shaun of the Dead.

It would be like choosing Paul over John.

The Monkees were a fake band. Some fake bands are cool, like Gorillaz, Sex Bob-omb, the Clash at Demonhead, The Wonders, etc. What’s your favorite fake band?

Music note: I didn’t listen to The Monkees. I did listen to Colin Hay and Coheed and Cambria.

Signed prints: The signed prints are just $40.00 each. Every cartoon on this site is available. You can pay through PayPal. If you don’t like PayPal, you can snail mail it to Clay Jones, P.O. Box 3721, Fredericksburg, VA 22402. I can mail the prints directly to you or if you’re purchasing as a gift, directly to the person you’re gifting.

Notes on my book, Tales From The Trumpster Fire: There are 18 copies of my book in stock, which go for $45.00 each, signed. Also, I have copies of my first book from 1997, Knee-Deep in Mississippi available for $20.00.

Tip Jar: if you want to support the cartoonist, please send a donation through PayPal to clayjonz@gmail.com. You can also snail it to P.O. Box 3721, Fredericksburg, VA 22402.

Watch me draw:

Trump Man


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I feel a little bad using “Taxman” from The Beatles for this cartoon. The Beatles were brilliant song writers (except for Ringo) and Trump is only a brilliant con man.

It’s not the first time Donald Trump had a rough week. The week after the Republican National Convention Trump squandered any momentum he may have gained by feuding with the parents of an American soldier who died in Iraq.

Last week Trump was coming off a horrible debate performance when he decided to top it with a 3:00 AM tirade on Twitter toward a former Miss Universe he once called “Miss Piggy.” Usually when one engages in such nocturnal activity it’s referred as “drunk dialing.” You never text a girl when you’re drunk, or call, or tweet. You wake up the next morning not being able to relate to anything you discovered you sent..and then you recoil in sheer terror. That’s what people tell me. But Trump doesn’t drink…or apparently snort cocaine, which leads us with the last possible theory that he’s an immature, juvenile idiot with a major self esteem problem. Instead of texting a girl at 3:00 with “show me your boobs” he tweeted to his 12 million followers that the former Miss Universe was a horrible person who had made a sex tape, which nobody has found to exist.

He spent the rest of the week complaining about his debate microphone, claiming he won the debate because Breitbart said so, speculated on Bill Clinton’s sex life, Hillary’s health and openly mocked her for having pneumonia, and even made the claim that she’s been unfaithful to her husband. Newsweek published a story accusing Trump of violating the embargo against Cuba. On top of all that, several newspapers that normally go for Republicans refused to endorse him The man is on a roll.

A few days ago a reporter for The New York Times discovered copies of Trump’s 1995 tax returns sent anonymously from someone in the Trump organization. His employees must really love him.

Usually when the press prints something from anonymous sources the reporter knows who the source is. The Times decided to publish the Trump tax story despite not knowing the source, but after talking to several tax experts who suggested that the documents were in line with accounting permissible under the federal tax code in 1995. They also talked to the accountant who confirmed he had prepared the taxes.

Another aspect to the story is that a lawyer for Trump emailed a letter to the paper threatening “prompt initiation of appropriate legal action” if the newspaper published the private documents. They refused to confirm or deny the authenticity of the documents. That makes it a story on top of the fact Trump still refuses to release his tax returns to the public. He’s still claiming he’s under audit and can’t release them during the process, which is a fat, juicy, orange lie.

What really makes it a story is that Trump has tweeted in the past complaining about people who don’t pay taxes while the government is in debt and our infrastructure is in decline. Who knew Donald Trump was in the 47% of Mitt Romney’s description of lazy slackers who feel entitled to government benefits who never pay income taxes.

What the Times discovered was that Trump had declared a $916 million loss in 1995, wiping out any federal taxes that year and setting himself up to avoid 18 years of similar obligations. What a smart businessman. I guess the rest of us are stupid suckers. Well, those who intend to vote for The Donald are.

Trump claims he knows the tax system better than anyone else, since he’s so good at taking advantage of it and making the rest of us carry the burden of funding our nation, education, infrastructure funding, our military, etc, so naturally he’s the “only” one who can fix it. I’ve heard of former burglars becoming security experts but you wouldn’t normally hire the guy to guard your house who initially broke into it and stole your stereo and ceramic Elvises collection.

A few interesting details about the song “Taxman”: George Harrison wasn’t that prolific of a songwriter at the time he wrote the tune. He discovered The Beatles were shelling out 95% of their income in taxes. Though George was the lead guitar player Paul McCartney (who was the bass player) nailed the solo on the track. The song was the opening number on their 1966 album Revolver (my favorite Beatles’ album) and the only time George had the lead tune. I’m a Beatles geek.

In 2006 Ken Cuccinelli attempted to make “Taxman” the state song of Virginia. He was a senator at the time and went on to become Attorney General and waste state resources fighting Obamacare, abortion, the University of Virginia over Climate Change. His state-song effort failed in the state senate. Fortunately he later failed as the Republican party’s gubernatorial nominee.

Republicans need to keep their hands off songs by The Beatles. You don’t see Democrats co-opting “Cat Scratch Fever.” I’m mostly surprised they didn’t go for “Happiness Is A Warm Gun.”

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