Tag Archives: mom

Meaning of Life

The Mother Of All Mothers

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To those among you who profess to be educated, refined, erudite, savvy and cool, and who still secretly read this cartoon under the blankets with a flash light:

The title for this post, “The Mother Of All Mothers” came to me as I almost tripped drying in between my toes just as I got out of the shower. Why the hyperbole/Saddam Hussein reference? Look, if I knew why my brain works the way it does, the doctors would have prescribed a fix for it already. But thankfully they haven’t.

Introducing a new character to a comic is a bit like passing a kidney stone. It’s slow, there are convulsions of massive discomfort, both mental and physical, and during which I would really like to take a fistful for painkillers, but I do refrain where possible. If the public response to the new character is anything like that of previous characters (i.e. deafening silence, quiet scoffing, old ladies giving me the finger at shopping malls, the odd letter containing death threats from fringe groups like the Amish Biker Gang), I may have to resort to using profanity in following episodes to increase my readership among my family and friends.

Speaking of family, my nephew actually said he laughed when he finally read my comic, high praise indeed. Furthermore, a number of you (the not-yet-but-who-should-be-incarcerated) have suggested that the mother character somehow is similar to or even resembles my own mother, may she rest in peace, in either physical and personality traits.

What are you people smoking?? Couldn’t be further from the truth. My own (and only) publicly acknowledged mother is not the inspiration for the character you see here in Stanko & Tibor, the finest chronicle of the North American badger since 2008. Sure, my mother can heap mounds and pounds of guilt like an Alberta oil sands commercial dump truck, but she ain’t the inspiration. My grandmother on the other hand… No, no, I kid, I kid. The character is merely a vehicle for jokes and healing psychological scars I have from childhood that modern pharmacology hasn’t yet found a cure for, shock therapy notwithstanding.

So enjoy this episode, don’t read too much into it, I am not that deep (I watch Bugs Bunny reruns and eat industrial chocolate chip cookies, people). Laugh, if you will, turn away in horror if you must, spit on the floor in disgust if necessary, but be sure to tweet or Facebook or Google +1, or whatever it takes to get the word out on this comic cuz I need the exposure.

With haughty and rigid salutes,

Major General Admiral Pedro Dönitz

Meaning of Life

Not So Nice

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If you’re still reading this, seek medical and psychiatric attention. Now read on.

On this holy night – the night when I can finish a cartoon and eat some industrial, artery-hardening, DNA-altering chocolate chip cookies as the sun sets gently in the west – I am left with my thoughts,  and numerous mental images and random strings of conscious creations. And those thoughts lead me to the subject of family. The good kind of family, like my brothers-in-law who when they visit are low maintenance and easy-going and actually fix all the crap in my house that I avoid like trash-strewn plague, largely because I’m incompetent with any kind of tools.

Family like that you want around. No, you can’t pick your family anymore than you can pick your family’s noses (not when they are awake, at least). But you can make room for different family, like my best friend, who is like a brother to me. A larger, hairier, gassier brother, but a brother all the same. It’s proof that you can choose your family even if they don’t fit the “marriage/blood” description mandated by society, genetics, lawyers, civil servants and others who would seek to thwart my plans of world domination.

Well, not so much world domination, but maybe domination of my crushing desire to eat anything baked with sugar and chocolate, or made with french fries and gravy, or dumplings with some kind of soy and vinegar sauce.

But I digress. Family is the subject of this episode of the comic once deemed by Guenther Grass and Thomas Mann as “Scheiße, absolut Scheiße!” It continues the introduction of the mother of all characters, namely the mother of our main man. Sure, it would have spared you some sweaty seconds if I had plopped her into to the first frame, thus sparing you from undoubtedly scanning the page for hidden obscenities and signs of the first female character to walk the streets of Stanko & Tibor.

But then I decided that would be too easy. So you’ll have to wait. All I can say, she’s about as nice and full of sweetness as her son. One more episode and you’ll get to see her. She, who would further cheapen and filthify the world of Stanko & Tibor.

Wishing you all many hugs, kisses and inappropriate butt-squeezes,

Herr Doktor Professor Ludwig von Schittenhelm Druker