These days, supply-chain issues are more likely than seasonal scarcity to stand between New Yorkers and their winter produce. Yet cold weather still seems to activate in many shoppers an atavistic urge to stockpile supplies in the proverbial larder. In his eighty-first cover for the magazine, Bruce McCall gives a fanciful take on these preparations for the months ahead. McCall, who is in his late eighties, has been largely homebound over the past couple of years, but he remains as sharp and imaginative an observer of the city’s inhabitants, human and otherwise, as ever. During our discussion, the notoriously unsentimental satirist insisted on crediting his daughter and co-conspirator, the writer Amanda McCall, for nurturing in him an appreciation of non-anthropoid life-forms.
Sourse: newyorker.com
