It’s a difficult thing to be universally liked. I avoid the attempt.
I learned a long time ago that simply having an opinion, regardless of how well-informed it is, on any important or relevant topic is invariably going to rub someone the wrong way.
We disagree. Congratulations; we’re human.
In a generation where Facebook and Twitter updates give every person a chance to editorialize, I’m usually more comfortable maintaining a neat distance from that mess. Call it an attempt at professionalism, or deep-rooted cynicism even. Whatever.
Though occasionally, I try to start conversations.
I have a strong desire to inform and to be informed. Always, this desire means that when I do share my opinions, I choose my words with painstaking selectiveness. I don’t do this because I’m afraid of giving offense; rather, I try to limit my focus to the root of what, exactly, it is that I have to say about any particular issue.
Often, I use my best judgment and restraint. The nature of this process can be summed up this way: I use my kid gloves.
With my cartoons, I try to shed some light on topics that are important to me. I want to allow people to laugh with me, or at me, or both.
There are topics that make me angry. There are things I want to say. But, I think, comedy only comes after the angry venting is over: it’s the catharsis. It’s when you shrug and accept that you have no power to change whatever it is that pisses you off, but you know that you can still poke fun at a subject and chuckle about it.
Not everyone’s going to like everything I have to say or the way in which I choose to say it. But, that’s okay, isn’t it?
When you put something of yours out there in the public domain, as a writer or an artist or a creator of any kind, you open yourself up to criticism. And I will always defend vehemently every person’s right to criticize and to speak out.
I’m interested in starting conversations, is all.