Hey, now. There's always a catch:
8. OWNERSHIP AND LICENSE. All entry materials become the property of the Sponsor and will not be acknowledged or returned. Entrant agrees that the submission shall be a work-made-for-hire within the meaning of the Copyright Act, and that Condé Nast Publications shall own all rights, including copyright, therein throughout the world. In the event any submission is deemed not to be work-made-for-hire for any reason, Entrant hereby transfers and assigns the entire copyright (for the full term of copyright including any extensions thereto) throughout the world, in any and all media and forms of publication, reproduction, transmission, distribution, performance, adaptation, enhancement or display now in existence or hereafter developed in such Submission to Condé Nast Publications. Entry into this Promotion constitutes entrant’s irrevocable and perpetual permission and consent, without further compensation or attribution, to use such Submission for editorial, advertising and publicity purposes by the Sponsor and/or others authorized by the Sponsor, in any and all media now in existence or hereinafter created, throughout the world, for the duration of the copyright in the Submission. Sponsor and/or others authorized by the Sponsor shall have the right to edit, adapt, and modify the Submission. Entrant acknowledges that The New Yorker holds the copyright, trademark and other intellectual property rights in Eustace Tilley, and that entrant will not violate or infringe on these rights in any way. The New Yorker grants entrant a non-exclusive, limited license to use the image of Eustace Tilley only for the purpose of creating a submission for the contest.
Eustace Tilley is certainly a product of old media.

These are pre-painted minifigs from a game called HeroClix. They come like that. It would be neat if they sold blank ones.

Bafflingly compelling. It seems odd in concept but not so strange looking. It adds a whole new spin on kissing and crying.

This reminds me of the Mr. Bean short where the nativity is overrun with toys like a T-Rex and a tank.

What I don't understand is why people come out of the woodwork to poo-poo Apelad (and I'm not just saying that because I own several of his drawings). I think if you've read all 600+ comics and still think he's desperate and sad, you have no sense of humor or wonder. He's taken something that's essentially nothing and made it sincere and brimming with joy. If that's tiresome to you, you should probably seek help. Or just continue to complain about something you haven't invested enough time in to form a valid opinion about.