Tag Archives: fate

Meaning of Life

Efficient Evasion

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Given the rapid approach of the American elections and Halloween (I think the two are interrelated) I present you, the above-average reader, with a bit of wisdom, philosophy and down-home cooking to get the rabble roused.

Things don’t always go as planned. Many, many of you have asked me why the last episode of Stanko & Tibor, with its deft and delicate introduction of the Mother of All Mothers, is being followed up by a non-sequitur dealing with politics, reality and the denial thereof. Actually no one has asked me that but I’m sure if any of you were to actually read this delicately drawn artistic tour de farce you would have wondered aloud and scratched your head your over your breakfast (thus shedding dandruff flakes into your corn flakes) “what the hell is this guy on? Can’t he complete one dang story line without going off on a tangent? Is he unwell in the cranium ?”

First of all, my cranial imbalances are strictly related to high fat foods I eat a lot of and having been choked as a child for excessive procrastinating on writing thank you cards.
Secondly, tell me which one of you has not left a room in your house thinking “I have to get X” only to arrive a few short seconds later asking yourself “why am I here again?” (And I don’t mean the existential “why am I here?” You’re here because your parents didn’t use birth control when they were at the night club.)

My point is that life is a series of random events and non-sequiturs and this cartoon is proof of such. As is the impending US election where facts are scarce, fiction is rampant, vitriol is viral, and non-sequiturs and absurd statements seem to be the norm, not to mention Mitt Romney’s son saying he wanted to punch President Obama after their debate. Nice Republican thug thinking.

So if you ever wander in your thoughts like I do, particularly when I am the wheel, then you may find yourself at the crossroads of absurdity and hilarity, or in other words at Stanko & Tibor.

Be well, lose some weight for me as I can’t seem to rid myself of the avoirdupois on my belly, and spend quality time with your loved ones. I did, and now her urge to drown me has abated mostly.

Forever yours until I stop taking my heart pills,
Monsignor Druker

Meaning of Life

Cheater, Cheater

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There are many inspirations an artist uses to create his or her works of genius. Some come from stress, some from genetic mutation from having lived too close to the power lines, some from unhappiness (just ask that nut bar Van Gogh), some from lack of sleep, some from drug abuse or mixing meds and alcohol, some from inbreeding, and some just come from plain old daily life. Like this episode of the comic that just won’t lie down and die despite having been injected with massive amounts of dim sum and sugary petro-foods all in one day.

(Before I continue, please refrain from snorting derisively, rolling your eyes with incredulity or thinking “he’s such an arrogant putz” over the implied link between ‘artistry’ and this comic. I need this space to vent.)

So where were we? Oh yeah, real life. I was made aware of an automotive mishap last week that thankfully had no victims, apart from the poor saplings used to slow the vehicle’s progress and maybe those of us who had a scare put into us the likes of which would have required a fresh change underwear had we not been eating a very low fiber lunch. But I digress.

I tried the tried and true technique of plunging the reader into the story from the very first frame, thus sparing you of some crazy story and dialogue which requires readers to look away from the stuff they really want to read on their iPads, like shopping for stuff or Solitaire, or other such highly involving games. And I think it worked, but you will have to be the judge of that.

Oh, and I wanted to have an image of the James Dean car crash, but I was too lazy to think of where to place it into the frame and still have time for a late night snack. If that isn’t dedication, I don’t know what is.

Wishing you all safe travels, good bagels and children who don’t talk back to you even when they are right.

Sincerely,

Benicio del Drukero