Over the past year I’ve been traveling almost nonstop, and of course, drinking to match.  And while I’ve been able to quaff cocktails in the world’s finest establishments, I’ve also been disappointed plenty, too. Some of the bartenders I’ve been running into lately have made me visbly angry.

I was sitting around with my editor this morning and she brought up a quote from this article,

“…if your job wasn’t performed by a cat or a boa constrictor in a Richard Scarry book I’m not sure I believe it’s necessary.”

And it got me inspired to draw a few of these comedic frustrations into silly cartoons.  They are anthropomorphic little expressions about how everyone has faults but me:

Timothy wants you to look at him, look at his fancy shit, is that a full windsor? Fuck, that is fancy.

First off, TIMOTHY, I’d rather call you Tim.  Because last week, I knew a great bar back named Tim, now I know this Brooks Brothers asshole named Timothy. Timothy has a 4 foot long mixing spoon with a nonsensical trident at the end, it will surely put his eye out one day.

Timothy is very concerned with authenticity. Mexican Coca-Cola? Timothy uses Ecuadorian Coke with cacao.  He must bear the burden of barrel aging his own barrels. He only uses the miniature glassware. He puts a flamed orange zest on everything, even the napkins, but his favorite garnish is the disapproving glare.  If it isn’t pre-prohibition, Timothy isn’t interested.  50% of his drink menu has a dash of Absinthe, 50% has an egg in it, and most of those cocktails also include Carpano Antica. If you don’t like his cocktails then you obviously haven’t read the 10 year old NYT article hailing the resurgence of the speakeasy. He works in a bar called the “Bullshit” Social, the “Something” Volstead or the 23rd “I could give a fuck.” AND, Timothy doesn’t carry Midori because it has artificial coloring but has a Campari stain on almost all of his ties.

Dear Timothy, the folly of excitement is no crime but pride is a sin. You are young and full of piss & something acidic. I’d like to offer perspective from mothers everywhere: Your parents are not proud of you for being a bartender. 

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Next: The Old Dog

In case you’re wondering: I drew this with an app called Paper 53, after I had dinner next to a guy named Georg who made this app that delightfully allows me to scribble little amusing cartoons. Georg is a great guy to talk to about schnapps, and he sure can intuitively digitize a creative process.