Category Archives: Meaning of Life

Day-to-Day, Frustration & Complaint, Meaning of Life

Going Illegit

1 Comment

Given the recent events of the past few days in Europe, with the French electing a socialist who went on a diet, the U.S. elections kicking off officially with pomp and circumstance, the hockey playoffs going into the stretch drive, and International Workers Day having passed just last week, I’m reminded of the toiling and hard work we all put in, day in, day out, and I decided to give you a thematically related installment of the comic that was once described by Vassily Kandisky as “not fit to line my grandmother’s bird cage.”

It’s all about work, be it honest or dishonest, hard or easy, high-falutin’ or low-brow. It’s all the same.  And frankly, some days it does feel like we’re all horse manure inspectors.  Not exactly sure what that means, but I haven’t slept enough since I came back from Germany and my sugar intake has been inversely proportional to the amount of exercise I have been doing lately. Which is next to none, if you don’t count screaming at my children to brush their teeth.

But as the spring approaches and my backyard resembles a south Asian jungle any pygmy could love, I am reminded of the work I will have to do to keep the weeds (notice I didn’t say grass) at bay long enough for old man winter to come and kill them again. And then I think, maybe joining organized crime would be way easier because I could afford to pay some gardener to mow the lawn and rake the leaves. But I’m far too lazy for organized crime. Disorganized crime, with a lot of TV-watching and extortion by telephone would be more my speed.

And if that last paragraph isn’t enough to convince you that this episode of Stanko & Tibor is about to embark into uncharted waters, then you need more help than I do.

May you all be blessed with peace, love, happiness and access to a deli open til 3 AM.

Sincerely and unfailingly yours,

Professor Steinbrecher von Currywurst

Day-to-Day, Frustration & Complaint, Meaning of Life

And Toothpaste For All

1 Comment

Oh to be thin again, to be limber again, to be less gaseous and less rotund again. And to have healthy, strong teeth again. Having chipped my tooth some weeks ago, one of my front teeth no less, I realized that the onset of age, even in the realm of the dental knows no mercy.

As I stare into the mirror and smile to see this chipped chopper, I wonder both silently and aloud, “how the heck did my wife ever agree to marry someone as challenged in the looks department as me?” That question took on deeper significance this weekend as it was our wedding anniversary, and she — who felt duty-bound to keep her word and marry me despite probably having heavily regretted it when she woke up the next morning after I had proposed knowing she was under the influence of both jet lag and alcohol — once again said these past 13 years have felt like 13 minutes. Under water.

What does any of this have to do with this episode of the comic foretold in the bible as one of the 4 signs of the apocalypse and referred to by Salman Rashdie in his book club as “not suitable material to wipe a baby’s butt” have to do with toothpaste and beauty? I’m really not sure, to be honest. This is the Internet after all and they let any putz with a keyboard and the ability to type publish pretty much anything they want, so it’s your fault for reading this.

But I digress. The idea for this particular episode was not actually related to the aforementioned description of dental damage. It was a mere reflection of the marketing wordsmiths who gave us “new and improved” and other such marketing gems. And with that explanation, I will trundle to bed with a belly full of Thai food, a car magazine at the ready and maybe an intense focus on a 8-hour face-to-face discussion I’ll be having with my pillow shortly.

To those who have celebrated this long weekend with family, food and merriment, I wish you well. And remember to take out the garbage and brush your teeth.

Sincerely,

First Officer of the R0yal Brigade of Sheep Herders Lord Druker upon Cushy Bed

Day-to-Day, Meaning of Life

Exercise Revenge

2 Comments

Perhaps it is ironic that I chronicle this episode of the comic once deemed a “reason to reinstate capital punishment” by Gandhi after having spent a semi-active day actually using the facilities of my local gym, only to post an episode deriding said institution of health and well-being.

Or is it merely coincidental? Or could it be that I don’t know the difference between ‘ironic’ and  ‘coincidental’. We’ll leave that up to the editors of this intellectually challenging publication known as Stanko & Tibor to decide what it is I know and don’t. And then come up with a suitable remedial learning program.

I actually exerted myself at the gym today, causing beads of what I think was  sweat to come rolling off my forehead.  It was a shock to say the least, but it was well worth it, as it worked up an appetite that was quenched with easily triple the calories I burned off. Success!!

So when you are contemplating whether or not to do the right thing and exercise, all in an attempt to have a better quality of life, a more balanced state of mind, a potentially longer life, and more energy to face the challenges that face us day to day (like understanding this comic),  remember, you can’t really know fitness and health without knowing sloth and chocolate-covered baked goods laden with sugary goop.

Oh, and if you want some literary and visual sugary goop, check out the latest installment of Stanko & Tibor at a store near you.

Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the remote.

Admiral Jon “Gout Toe” Druker

Day-to-Day, Meaning of Life

Baby Steps

2 Comments

Stanko & Tibor: Baby Steps

To those of you who have made it through winter without succumbing to the need to leap on a tanning bed, fly south, read this comic or drink huge quantities of Aquavit, I ask, what is wrong with you? Now if you turned that question around and asked what is wrong with me, I’d have to distract you by screaming “Oh my God! What’s that over there?!” and then run out of the room.

As February ends, I anticipate the coming of spring in a couple of months and what that will mean for my wardrobe – specifically eliminating the torture of choosing the right coat that won’t make me sweat like a pig under a heat lamp in Jamaica in June. The early morning juggle of what sweater & coat combination to put together so I don’t arrive at work looking like I ran a marathon in a wet suit.

And speaking of work, if you put a monetary value on all the key strokes I put out into space tapping out email after email after email, all the PowerPoint slides I read and create, and all the meetings I have to sit through where I have to hear terms like “incentivizing”, “expand the envelope” and best-of-breed”, well, to be polite,  I am working cheap. It’s enough to make me want to take out my frustrations via exercise. Well, almost.

You see exercise, particularly when at a gym, is a soul-destroying affair. You go in, you sweat, and what do you come out with? Smelly clothes and armpits. I should win something every time I leave the gym, like an iPod or a chocolate bar. Now that would be good incentivizing!

So, as you read this installment of the digitally chronicled oracle once touted by the New York Times Book Review as “disturbing” and “an argument against free speech” think of the good you are doing society by not working out at a gym and watching TV or surfing the Internet instead.

Meaning of Life

Doctor’s Odds

1 Comment

The night is cold, the air is crisp as it encircles this city, full of corruption, bumpy roads, and pretty decent food. Coincidentally, there is a nice layer of fat and cinnamon danish that encircles my belly, giving me and it (yes, I think it’s becoming its own entity that really doesn’t head my pleading for a reduction in the “fattitude quotient”) something to write about, ponder on and rub quite often when I am lying in my bed thinking about that dream job as a full-time cartoonist.

In this episode of the comic that won’t take prisoners, won’t take no for an answer and won’t go away unless one of you bribes me heavily, you see the continuation of a theme, or a meme, or something vaguely resembling a story line conceived by a half-wit. A story about keeping fit, and what it takes to stay fit. And sadly I don’t do what it takes because that would interfere with things like watching TV, reading magazines, surfing and eating foods rich in motor oil and sugars.

A man has to set priorities.

But take heed, this story of a gargoyle and his doctor does have a message. You just have to guess wildly at where it’s going. And if you do, you will win a FREE t-shirt. Good luck.

It’s time for TV, sleep and maybe a slice of butter-rich banana cake.

Much love,

Chef Juan

Meaning of Life

Fit To Be Fat

Leave a comment

Any time there is a new calendar year, be it Chinese, Gregorian, Latin, Jewish, Muslim, Mayan, Shinto, Hindu, Zoroastrian (I can’t believe Zoro had his own calendar), there will be resolutions of things to fix, to correct, to make right again —  for things that have gone, very, very wrong. Shockingly wrong. For example, swearing you’d update your web browser or email filters to make sure this web cartoon is met with a swift and violent Delete action, be it from your hard drive, your soft drive (a.k.a. your actual memory in your brain) or from the universe itself.

And what does this train of thought have to do with the crass comedic constant known as Stanko & Tibor? If you give me a minute to take a swig of my port wine, I’ll come up with something.

But what of these resolutions to resolve what you’ve done wrong? You know you can’t catapult the neighbor’s cat for crapping on your lawn and tearing up your garden, even if that would be the just thing to do. You can’t just suddenly stop eating greasy cheeseburgers, laden with thick, smokey slices of bacon and slathered in mayo and other forms of natural artery lubricants, knowing full well that could cause mass unemployment in the beef, statin research and cardiovascular medical industries. What would the poor heart surgeons do for a living? They’d turn to crime and back street bypasses.

So look around you as I have looked around at me, and resolve to be a better person this year by possibly dropping a few pounds so your trips to Costco’s clothing section become less frequent. Or maybe, gain some weight in order to keep the poor Chinese laborers employed at a 1$ a day, lest they be terminated (literally) by their profit-focused employers.

But whatever you don’t look down. Big mistake. I couldn’t see what lay below my expanded belly except for the tips of my feet. And worse, I had my glasses on and could see the myriad dust weevils swirling about the wooden floor that hadn’t been swept, vacuumed or mopped in well over 3 weeks.

So take this episode of Stanko & Tibor for what it is — the beginning of a terribly tenuous storyline involving weight gain, weight loss, resolutions of better health and probably some offensive lines about the smells one encounters in a gym.

May the gods of dieting be kind to you and may all your ice cream sandwiches be consumed without anyone seeing you and emitting an angry scowl that contains enough kinetic energy to produce an actual sound.

Hugs and kisses,

Master Trainer Yan van Damme on his Tam Tam Druker

Day-to-Day, Meaning of Life

Sexy Law Beast

Leave a comment

Stanko & Tibor. And The Law

All ye who have read this passage of text, and have not hit the ‘Delete’ button (usually triggered by the primordial fear of being identified as a reader, or even worse, a fan of the artistic creation electronically penciled by a man who is often accused by his doctors as being unwell at the physical and metaphysical levels), may ye be blessed for not following conventional wisdom and social pressures that strongly suggest you should shun the latest edition of Stanko & Tibor, the comic that dares to be different.

It is with this holiday season here and me on vacation that I give you these thoughts to chew on. Not tender, melt-in-your-mouth morsels of humor, but rather they are more gristle with some decent meat to it and well-marinated in ever more sinus and cold medicine.  You really have to chew on them like a $7.00 fried steak and think about what it is this comic is trying to say. If you have figured it out, please tell me so at least more than one of us is clued in.

This is an offbeat episode of Stanko & Tibor, but it is meant to give you time to reflect on what a bunch of weirdos the Republican candidates are, and how it’s great fodder for a guy like me who is always looking for inspiration. And as this comic tells us, falling asleep with the TV on, you tend to get strange dreams, and even better ideas for the comic. No, I don’t watch porno or Law & Order. I subscribe to basic cable and Teletoon, so you can see where my priorities lie.

Furthermore, I didn’t want to deprive you of a good chuckle, and it’s better to produce something I deemed humorous when I thought of it in the shower so I can keep my skills sharp and then in the New Year, get back to the story line I want to experiment with on you folks.

I want to wish the loyal readers of this oeuvre d’art who aren’t taking mood-adjusting medication and/or who haven’t had corrective eye surgery for tweeting, forwarding, sharing and promoting my mission to make the world laugh one person at a time via this electronic vehicle called Stanko & Tibor. It would be nice if you actually bought a t-shirt or a piece of swag so I could afford the hosting fees to do this. Just saying is all.

To those lighting the candles, happy Hanuka. To those looking forward to some yuletide cheer, eat, drink and loosen your belts. Overeating is worth it, I know. And have a “good slide” into the New Year.

With love and kisses, Father Jon

Day-to-Day, Meaning of Life

Grace, Elegance & Fur

Leave a comment
Grace Elegance & Fur
Grace Elegance & Fur

To my ardent followers, ye who have forsaken reason, logic and more often than not, proper hygiene, to follow this online chronicle of the factually inaccurate and often preposterous but comically gifted:

For too long I have not provided you with the comedic sustenance you so deeply crave, often forcing you to resort to inferior and some would say “unholy” entertainment. The kind that could get you arrested at the U.S. border. And in some cases some you have even stooped to reading the “funnies” page in the newspaper (an artifact my parents still subscribe to and something that riles my dad to no end when I tell him we don’t read a newspaper). You sicken me.

Well, I plan on putting this situation right by giving you this latest visual hors d’oeuvre, an image that draws (pun intended) on the artistic inspiration provided by the uncommon mix of THE DANCE and an excess of body hair.

Now let me come clean: I made this drawing less to sustain you, and more to defend me. My lovely daughters repeatedly asked for a drawing they could put on a t-shirt so they could show it at school and other important social gatherings. They hounded me as little sea urchin children selling newspapers at street corners would in those films of yore. They kept coming back at me, over and over, pestering me until I finally caved and cried “All right!”

Now I know the majority of you reading this think I did it less to gratify my children and show I’m a decent daddy, but rather I did it more as a feeble and transparent excuse to sit in front of the computer and draw while actively neglecting my fatherly duties and watch sports on the side doodling away in the basement. (You’d only be half-right — I wasn’t watching sports, I was watching cartoons, so there.) You know, it’s so hard to neglect kids these days, it’s not like in my parents day, I’ll tell you.

So I produced something relevant and meaningful to them – the cast of Stanko & Tibor engaging in a moment of ballet frivolity, minus the grace and elegance, despite what the caption says. And to be honest, I like what I produced. It has a certain Degas-like “je ne sais quoi” that mixes with the sledgehammer thematic I tend to produce to get my message of humor across. And this image for YOUR consumption is proof of such.

Let all (3) of you who read the comic know this: I will make the world laugh one viewer at a time, one t-shirt imprint, one eventual e-book at a time.

Keep the motor running through the holidays and I will produce many new episodes in the new year, largely revolving around the oppressed many, organized crime, and sewing. That one will be a gem.

Your humble, yet cynical servant, Lord Jon

Day-to-Day, Frustration & Complaint, Meaning of Life

Of Leaves, Birthdays and Futility

1 Comment

Dear followers of the last, great illustrated bastion of freedom of expression that has been deemed by the CIA and most Western religious groups as being mentally corrupt AND corrupting (not an easy feat), as well as deviant and just plain poorly drawn,

I send to you this latest depiction of the absurdity and frailty of life as illustrated by the hideous chore of  leaf raking, perhaps the most humbling, futile and idiotic activity humans have devised since the dawn of time. Sure, it gives me time to think of stuff to write for this comic, which is akin to giving a simpleton (me) with a penchant for hard liquor and fireworks (definitely not me unless it’s gold tequila) the keys to the fully stocked liquor cabinet along with a new Zippo lighter for his birthday (hint, hint).

And then you wind up with mental mush like this prose as a preamble to the comic.

What I came up with was a comic that delights in its visual and philosophical acuity yet is just a simple sight gag intended to tickle the soul with a devilish charm. Like life itself does from time to time. Or more accurately, this episode of Stanko & Tibor is like my birthdays.

In the spring of life, they entertained with the promise of gifts a-plenty, and wrapping paper and plastic enough to choke a horse and fill a landfill. However, there were many gifts that needed batteries and made noise — man, I hated those.

And then came the summer of life, where birthdays were joyous affairs, sometimes filled with booze, dinners and tasty cakes, and sometimes fraught with 2 ex-girl friends showing up simultaneously to give you hell for things you shouldn’t have done in a social setting with your underwear.

Then in the autumn of life, birthdays contain memories, aching body joints and discussions about medications, therapies and combustible, yet all natural medicinal herbs that help one forget that which he left in the kitchen not 5 minutes ago.

I don’t want to even think about the winter – that entails shoveling and scraping and salting and I’m just not ready yet. Oh and the kids and their filthy winter boots. But I digress.

So as this comic shows us the lesson of the ever-returning chore of leaf-raking in its most simple and humorous light, don’t forget one thing — that my birthday is Tuesday and I expect one whopper of a high calorie, high fat steak dinner that will trigger a 4-alarm gout attack followed by some damn gooey chocolate cake!

May you all find your true paths of glory. And if you found yours already, don’t rub it in my face, please.

Hugs and kisses,
Chairman and Supreme Leader Jon

Day-to-Day, Frustration & Complaint, Meaning of Life

Siri-Killer

3 Comments

My loyal followers, and those that feel guilty and follow out of shameful guilt (love you the most),

Through no fault of my own did I contract this unending sinus infection/cold that has helped make the tissue companies and pharma industries reach record quarterly profits due to my many purchases. But I am mending slowly, so much so that I raked the leaves in front of the house as any good sucker would.

Sweeping the thousands of leaves that fell from the tree in front of our house, I had time to think. Too much time, as it turns out, because I came up with this mental muesli which I am now imparting upon you folks. It largely revolves around taking a stand against something. Anything, really. In this case, it’s a stand against fundamentalism. Fundamentalism of all kinds — moral, religious, environmental, economic, corporate, automotive, food, you name it. Although there aren’t too many atheist fundamentalists. I don’t think they’re willing to die for anything, unless it’s maybe something like their favorite Chinese food restaurant being closed by the health department for flagrant violations involving small woodland creatures, a blood-soaked chopping block and rusty knives. But I digress.

I must especially take a stand against comedic fundamentalism. Those comedic people are the worst and most fundamental. You should have seen the comedian convention last year when the pie-in-the-face faction squared off against the seltzer faction, and then came the heckling, erudite Molière backers, who know how to use snobby, powdered-wigged wit in a deadly way. It wasn’t a pretty sight and more than one funny-boned purveyor of laughter was trucked out of there on stretchers. Blood, toupees, sinew, coconut cream and sharp words littered the messy, messy floor. I’m still scarred after that convention.

But I have gone off track again. So let it be known that if I don’t take a stand against fundamentalism in most of its forms (preferably the non-violent ones), and in particular against comedic fundamentalism, who will be left to joust with jesters and provide you with the artistic and savage commentary and buffoonery that is Stanko & Tibor? No one, that’s who.
So bear with me for this episode of the comedic sage that fits neatly on a page, and laugh if you can. It’s wordy, it’s visually WAY too busy, and it’s silly. My advice: Don’t let the comedic fundamentalists win.
Keep sniffling, keep blowing, and keep reading.
Johann von Sniffle