Tag Archives: beer

How to Drink COVID Away

Drunk CovidDrinking COVID Away

My daughter just read me a recent Twitter quote regarding the recent manned flight to space: “Congrats to the astronauts who just left earth. Good choice.

At least they have escaped the misery of COVID,  the anti-Semitic conspiracy theorists, the riots resulting from the murder of yet another unarmed black person, and the rantings of Führer Trump for a while. What’s more, they did it without resorting what millions of Americans have done to cope with this misery — drinking vats of alcohol. To no one’s surprise, however, United Kingdom sales spiked to even higher liver-damaging levels. Just another excuse to get hammered.

Space Station Therapy

Let’s go back to those astronauts for a minute. Think about how desperate you have to be to risk life and limb, climbing aboard what is essentially a computer-guided roman candle to go live in a gravity-deprived, sterile, smelly space station where fresh baked chocolate danishes and artery-clogging burgers are difficult to come by unless you have good connections.

They could have easily drank themselves into a stupor to cope with this COVID conundrum. It’s way cheaper and less stressful than all of that astronaut training. Furthermore, drinking yourself stupid means you wouldn’t have to deal with that Elon Musk fellow crowing about his silly rocket that he claims is “so totally awesome.” I could build one of those rocket thingies with some duct tape, a ball of twine, a fork, peanut butter, pop-sickle sticks and paint thinner.

But no, they chose flight over fight. Actually, over drinking. Idiots.

Alternative Therapies

So if I am left with a choice between going into space, where the WiFi signal is crap and the Netflix subscription hasn’t been renewed, and staying here and drinking myself into oblivion like most of the world seems to be doing, I may be at a loss.

Don’t give me that “read a book” line either. Trump doesn’t read them. No, wait. He can’t read. And he’s a PUTZ. No, I meant POTUS.

But still, given my tremendous lack of knowledge about everything from aeronautics to zoology, I’d have to read like a zillion books, and that would mean spending all day and night at the library where the WiFi signal is crap.

Also, if one of you says “try meditation” again, I’ll tell you what I told that mouthy jerk of a police officer — drinking booze is a way easier method to relax and clear one’s mind. Or at least subdue it.

No Choice

Clearly I am lacking the mental faculties needed to make a decision on how best to handle this situation. So I will do what I always do when confronted with questions of great importance and moral significance. I’ll watch Bugs Bunny and the Simpsons.

Famously famished,
Arch Duke Druker of Suburbia

Stretching the Envelope

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As most people are aware, the need to stretch one’s limits is necessary for a person, and dare I say, a society to improve. Be it stretching a person’s physical limits, challenging your cranial capacity through reading, studying or playing Angry Birds.
Or in some cases it’s a battle to not eat that sawdust and sugar-saturated mass produced chocolate chip cookie just beckoning from behind the lid of the cookie jar, with a soft, sweet voice, and its siren-like magnetic charm that says “Come on, what’s one more gram of transfat going to do? You already have 97% blocked arteries so this won’t matter one bit. Live the fantasy.”
And that is why I have given you this short sketch of our comic hero, stretching for that brewed beverage of water, malt, hops, and yeast. He knows it is death to his liver, but liquid sanity for his brain. Stretching to reach the golden liquid, hoping that physical exertion will somehow yield a health benefit.
Why I am telling all this? Because I too must stretch my abilities, cranial, physical, artistic, you name it. And with the iPad and a new stylus, I am trying out new drawing techniques and tools.
So I say to you, dear readers, or those of you who haven’t set this site to “inappropriate and filthy junk” in your web browsers, stretch yourselves, even if it’s just when you get out of bed.
Now I’m going to lie down and play solitaire.

May all your soups be rich in flavor and low in salt.

Iron Chef Hirohito Druker

Fit To Be Fat

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

Democracy for All

Well, it has been a long, long, long time since I last posted anything apart from two story updates that a) were written when adrenaline had kicked in after a severe lack of sleep and way too much caffeine needed to keep me semi- functional at work and b) displayed an uncanny literary and poetic quality that some of the most respected minds in the academic community have described in numerous journals and conferences as” a pile of steaming crap.” Yes, I took umbrage at those remarks but I was so busy blogging for the car ads, I couldn’t supply a witty rejoinder or a wry retort.

So after a long hiatus (I hear they have pills for that now), I am posting a comic that should have been posted well over a month ago when this whole Middle East thing went viral. Dictators were falling left, right, and center, and sure there was some bloodshed, but it made for gripping TV. Please recall the events of pre-Japan and then read this comic and laugh. O yell, Or take your hand gun and hold up a convenience store. Whatever and wherever the mood takes you. Just be sure I won’t accept responsibility.

I am about to repair to the bedroom for some intense TV-watching and then some eve more intense passing-out, followed closely by snoring and then maybe a mid-night jaunt to the bathroom hoping I don’t smash my toe on anything, and then probably a pee followed back crawling back to bed and snoring.

Aren’t you happy you read this email?

Keep the faith

Jonny D (also a blogger)

On the Campaign Trail

It rained like the end of time here yesterday. It was amazing how much water fell from the sky. It was absurd. Which is a good lead-in to this latest post, which is inspired by politics in all its absurdity. You think I am weird? Watch what comes out of politicians’ mouths. And mine, too.

This post marks the 50th comic I have posted in my short but not terribly illustrious career trying to make me laugh as well as other people who haven’t put me on the junk filter yet. So now I shall begin a project that may take me quite some time, but I will try and put together a book of my first 50 comics, which you can then buy and send to friends and enemies alike, or it could make really good toilet reading at your local mental health institution.

Because this is number 50, I gave you a full 8 frames to enjoy this time around and I will wrap up this series with a couple more comics before going off to introduce a new character or two. Think plants and animals.

One last thing – I will be publishing a bio of each of the characters so you can learn more than you really want to about the world of Stanko & Tibor.

And please check out my latest car blog article, it’s one of my better writing pieces. It’s here.

Be well and eat well.