Below is the latest custom-commissioned work by award-winning cartoonist Bob Lang.
SOFREP has had a long and fruitful relationship with Bob, and we appreciate his take on the sometimes wacky world around us.
Today, he doesn’t fail to disappoint, depicting that sneaky rat former FBI director James Comey with a crooked self-applied halo and purple board shorts.
In our made-up “Comey-verse, ” it’s no accident that the former Obama appointee stumbled across a perfectly arranged shell message on a beach like some kind of serendipitous code from Poseidon himself. “Golly gee,” he claims—an ex-G-man channelling Forrest Gump in purple trunks—”I had no idea it could be taken as a Trump assassination threat.” Right. And I have no idea how this cigar got in my hand or why there’s a copy of your book on my coffee table. This isn’t Comey’s first rodeo with a conveniently timed media stir. No, this is a man who knows precisely how to insert himself into the bloodstream of the news cycle when the public’s memory starts to fade and book sales dip into the realm of irrelevance.
This is the same guy who once turned the FBI into his own brand-building operation, then slid into the resistance cosplay circuit with all the grace of a bored high school drama teacher. The halo in the cartoon is there for irony, not accuracy. Comey knew darn well the shell message would spin up a social media tempest—he just didn’t care. That little beach stroll wasn’t about nature. It was about narrative.
The man’s trying to squeeze a few more bucks out of his latest crime novel, and if that means staging a sandy Rorschach test and crying innocence when it goes sideways, so be it.
In the end, he’s not interested in justice or truth. Just relevance—and maybe a spot on cable news to sell his next redemption arc.
Below is the latest custom-commissioned work by award-winning cartoonist Bob Lang.
SOFREP has had a long and fruitful relationship with Bob, and we appreciate his take on the sometimes wacky world around us.
Today, he doesn’t fail to disappoint, depicting that sneaky rat former FBI director James Comey with a crooked self-applied halo and purple board shorts.
In our made-up “Comey-verse, ” it’s no accident that the former Obama appointee stumbled across a perfectly arranged shell message on a beach like some kind of serendipitous code from Poseidon himself. “Golly gee,” he claims—an ex-G-man channelling Forrest Gump in purple trunks—”I had no idea it could be taken as a Trump assassination threat.” Right. And I have no idea how this cigar got in my hand or why there’s a copy of your book on my coffee table. This isn’t Comey’s first rodeo with a conveniently timed media stir. No, this is a man who knows precisely how to insert himself into the bloodstream of the news cycle when the public’s memory starts to fade and book sales dip into the realm of irrelevance.
This is the same guy who once turned the FBI into his own brand-building operation, then slid into the resistance cosplay circuit with all the grace of a bored high school drama teacher. The halo in the cartoon is there for irony, not accuracy. Comey knew darn well the shell message would spin up a social media tempest—he just didn’t care. That little beach stroll wasn’t about nature. It was about narrative.
The man’s trying to squeeze a few more bucks out of his latest crime novel, and if that means staging a sandy Rorschach test and crying innocence when it goes sideways, so be it.
In the end, he’s not interested in justice or truth. Just relevance—and maybe a spot on cable news to sell his next redemption arc.
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