From the creators of Stanko & Tibor, we bring you a formal good riddance to the annus rottenus and give proper welcome to the new year. A year of transition, promise, and most likely questionable fashion choices.
You may notice I used the plural when I said “creators” — it’s partially because I want to make this online rag sound much bigger than it is. And partially because all the time I have spent alone and indoors has made me develop multiple personalities just so I could hold a conversation with someone other than myself. And maybe finally win that argument about which kind of danish is superior.
May your vaccination be painless and come quickly. And while you’re at it, have a few shots of booze or whatever makes you happy until it’s your turn.
As I sip my first coffee of the day, I have time to reflect on the year passing and on the coming New Year. Yes, it’s soon 2018. Too soon? I doubt it, as 2017 has been a massive disappointment where slimmer bellies and chocolate danish consumption have moved inversely to the desired directions I had intended when I made those patently false promises to myself back in 2014.
It has been a strange year, one for the history books. Let’s reflect.
Killing and shooting hit new heights (or is that lows?). There was so much anger after the election of the Cheetos President that people were frothing at the mouth all over the world in every publication.
Sexual harassment in sanctimonious America finally got the headlines the topic deserves, but nothing really changed. People just acted shocked and then went about their business as they surfed the Interwebs, and watched The Great British Bake Off. (I still don’t understand why people are obsessed with this crapola, but it’s better than having people actually, you know, be active in politics or give their time to charity.)
Knowing that the 3 regular readers of this comic are either under the influence of pain killers, genetically not diverse enough to be considered truly human by reputable biologists, or incarcerated (ok, it was actually one regular reader with that description), I know my pleas for you to read this infrequently published tome of the obvious and delirious will fall on deaf ears and people with a pupillary distance of less then 10mm (a.k.a. inbreeds).
Either way, I will have my next coffee to warm my innermost self, ponder the incoming new year of 2018, and then take a massive, life-prolonging nap. And finish it off with a life-shortening, artery-clogging, grin-inducing dinner and dessert.
I could spend paragraphs and paragraphs opining about the nature of the New Year’s celebration, or how I managed to play on my iPad during the clock striking 12, or the colossal nap I just took this afternoon to celebrate the hibernation phase of the winter.
I could spend many minutes away from family in the basement tapping away at the key board, trying to entertain you with thoughts of a moronic or comic nature.
I could take the hard, arduous, painful route of self-betterment and self-discovery to show you that 2015 will be different from every anno gone before it, with 2015 being the break from routine that will set me free to explore my mental, emotional, physical and iPad addiction limits.
However, all that would detract from the fact that there is some kind of sports on TV that I will use as an excuse to nap.
Happy New Year, Happy 2015 to all of you who dare to have the government follow them by actually reading this comic/blog, now into its 6th year of insulting the intelligence of its readers, and generally lowering the level of discussion to a notch below the sewers.
After two long, food-filed and belly-expanding weeks of vacation and after having grown enough of a beard to look like short, semi-Semitic and semi-sentient Grizzly Adams, but who lives in suburbia and whose only contact with bears is his character in a cartoon often referred to by political pundits from all sides of the house as “the toe scribblings of an idiot”, I return to work, filled with positive thoughts and some trepidation at the year staring me in the face.
No sooner has 2012 disappeared, fiscal cliff and all, than suddenly I am confronted with 2013 and its emails, meetings, discussions and no doubt some kind of mediocre pastries left over from a customer breakfast that will do more damage to my waist and arteries. New Years resolutions regarding better health never meant much to me, because breaking promises to oneself is way too easy, and frankly, to make a promise and then break it takes money, strength and time, three things I need way more of, not to mention self-discipline and hair on the top of my head and not on my back and shoulders as nature and my genes seem to want to do.
But I did promise myself to at least finish the chocolate and other sugary confections we gathered, purchased, inherited, found, tripped on over the holidays. I wouldn’t want to endanger others by giving it to them and thus be the cause of a clogged artery or spiking sugar level. I know, you’re saying to yourself “what an unselfish guy, eating junk food so others can’t.” It’s about all I can muster at this late evening hour.
So to keep this short and sweet, I created this little drawing on the iPad to wish you all a happy, healthy and sweet 2013. Hoping your ’13 is lucky and plucky. It will be over before you know it.
With hugs and kisses and butt-squeezes,