Red Hats, Cold Feet

Meet MAGA Mick

Something new is brewing.




I’ve started work on an animated cartoon—limited animation, to be honest. We’re talking slow blinks, head tilts, awkward shuffles. The kind of movement that mirrors the mental gymnastics of a man caught in a moral midlife crisis.




His name is MAGA Mick.




He’s a dyed-in-the-flannel Republican. Trump voter. Used to shout at the TV. Used to own more flags than shirts. But now… something’s shifting. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But enough that you can see it in his eyes.




The man’s starting to wonder.




The cartoon is satire, yes—but it’s not a hit job. It’s a portrait. It's short and punchy. A study in contradiction. A bit of absurdity laced with humanity, because that’s the most honest way I know to explore what’s happening in the bones of this country.




Mick is fictional. But his story? It’s everywhere.




The project will grow slowly, the way real doubt does. A still photo is the one above. No voices or narration, just a lot of cards that, one after the other, probe the unsettling issues gnawing at Mick. This is my attempt to speak to a fracture in our collective story using the only tools I’ve got: humor, pixels, and a deep love for asking inconvenient questions.