Charlie Barsotti, one of the great cartoonists, died today. Charlie drew close to fourteen hundred cartoons for The New Yorker over the years, beginning in the nineteen-sixties and continuing right through last week's issue.

With the minimum number of lines, Charlie could extract the maximum number of ideas, about Inequality:

Truth:

Love:

Politics:

and Religion:

But his most famous cartoon has nothing to do with any of these "big questions." I'm not sure what it has to do with, but I dare you to look at it and not laugh:

That, in the end, is the job of the cartoonist. Here's to Charlie, and to a job well done.