Tag Archives: gargoyles

The Homeland

Dear readers of the comic, and those who move their lips when they read the comic whilst avoiding work,

This episode of the comic that will one day be the cause of at least one domestic dispute or a police raid was written in my head in order to try and rive the back story of the characters. Sure, it’s a pretty threadbare idea, much like worn cheesecloth, but I often think everyone needs a back story. It makes life much more like a book or a movie, albeit in this case with poorly constructed dialog, drawings and plot line.

When I thought of where my characters come from — the deep, dark, troubled recesses of my mind notwithstanding — I knew they weren’t of North American descent, nor Asian (too fat for that), not African, possibly Australian given the father’s criminal intents, but a mysterious Eastern European country that never existed seemed like the right angle. And who can blame me for thinking of “Francylvania” seeing as it’s seems semi-plausible to someone who really doesn’t have any formal education or access to the Internet.

And this episode should serve as a lesson to all those who search for their roots. Know where you’re from, so you can know who you are. Or you can know where you don’t want to go back to. Especially if it was a dump with a shady history. Or what countries to avoid when traveling with a lot of cash or weed. Or stump someone in a trivia game with the name of a made-up country such as Francylvania.

As for the Taco Bell and petroleum food references, they were easy jokes that I had to throw in there to fill out the dialog.

Be well, know thine self as well as thine significant other, but not in public.

Maitre Jean val Jon

The Beginning

The BeginningWhen we things start — and I mean things we intentionally start, like fires, rumors, and computer viruses — more often than not, we don’t really care where they will wind up. In fact, I dare say we consciously ignore them not caring what the resulting perils will be. Often we walk away to eat something sugary or fatty or greasy, like a huge pizza, or to catch a TV show on the Web or the 72-inch plasma screen that cost a fortune to buy, install and get all the channels for.

See? I just mentally walked away from my very first creation, that of Stanko & Tibor, the inaugural cartoon of what will hopefully be a dynasty unparalleled in the annals of illustrative history. And if it isn’t a dynasty, then as long as I leave my mark. A good mark, not a stain, which many would allege this comic is. Like grape juice on a white carpet, or like mud on a shag carpet that even the toxic cleaner with the “spring fresh” name you buy at the store from a multinational conglomerate with a record of polluting wading pools in poorer neighborhoods.

No, it shall be a chronicle of the history of humor, of my mind, its myriad turns, twists and potholes. It shall bear witness to the absurdity that is daily life, daily politics, daily mayhem that is a day job. It will be carved into some database’s silicon chip memory like digital stone, never to be erased! Well, unless the CIA gets a hold of it, or maybe a meteor crashes into the data center. Actually, I bet it’ll be a CIA meteor.

So enjoy the musings, stylings and ramblings of a man who needs more sleep.