I'm David Remnick, and this is a bonus episode of our podcast. When I say bonus, I mean, it's not appearing on our radio broadcast at all. This is just for you because you're special. And every week at The New Yorker, we do something called the

caption contest. We post a cartoon from one of our terrific stable of cartoonists, but we've

removed the caption. Thousands of you write in with your suggestions and through a magical

process that we'll explain later or maybe never at all. Readers then vote on winning captions.

Among those thousands of contestants are Willie Staley and Matt Jordan. They work as a team and they submit entries pretty much every

week and they've been doing it for years. They never win and they probably never will.

I think there's something to the typical New Yorker cartoon where it's, you know, it's

succinct. It tends to be clean. It tends to be on cue. And we just try to curveball around that.

Curveball is one way to put it. Another thing you should know is that Willie and Matt's captions

are pretty much unprintable in the New Yorker.

That's another reason this is a podcast special.

We're not letting the FCC anywhere near this.

If you're listening with your kids or your mom or you just have a sense of decorum, we'll give you about five seconds,

and then they're going to give us a sample of their work.

You guys got to get me the fuck out of here.

I know what this looks like, and I want to be clear about one thing.

I wasn't trying to get it to suck my dick.

How the fuck is this my fault?

Hey, cool plaid shirts, you fucking hipsters.

Where'd you get them?

The fucking bitch store?

So these guys are never going to win the caption contest, but they're killing it online

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