Tag Archives: reality

The Abstruse Weed

Covid Weed Covid Weed Covid Weed Covid Weed Covid Weed Covid Weed Covid WeedWhat Is the Abstruse Weed

As we muddle our way through ever more protests and convoys of paranoid motorized morons, I decided to reflect on things that are shall we say, abstruse, which is a fancy way of saying difficult to understand. Why did I choose the word abstruse when I could have said it more simply?

To be brutally honest, I was thinking of eating some apple strudel, and somehow my brain came up up with ‘abstruse strudel’ because it sounded good in my head. And I had slept poorly. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what abstruse meant, so I looked it up and realized it has nothing to do with strudel. In fact strudel is not difficult to comprehend, apple or otherwise. Well, maybe cherry-peach strudel is a little difficult to comprehend. Terrible combo. Or dare I say, that would be an abstruse strudel riddle.

Have I Lost You Yet?

Clearly, the previous two paragraphs are the rantings of a lunatic. I should know. I wrote them.  Furthermore, what does this have to do with anything related to the title of this post, The Abstruse Weed? Oddly, it comes from a news article about experiments done to see how cannabis could affect or potentially inhibit Covid from replicating. Apparently it may work.

My mind raced at the thought of weed potentially being beneficial to the fight against a virus that has laid bare economies, societies and supply chains. Who would have ever come up with the idea of using weed to combat a virus?

Dopehead stoner students, that’s who.

Which is indirectly how I came up with the series of drawings for this episode of the comic, once referred to by Jacques Cousteau as ‘merde de poisson’. He was a harsh critic.

It dawned on me, as I was on a Mount Everest sugar high from eating too many industrial cookies that were on sale, that it is just this type of abstruse thinking that is at the heart of human creativity. I am also relatively sure weed may play a role in creative thinking, but in my humble and under-informed opinion it pales when compared to chocolate danish-fueled synapse-triggering creativity.

Totally Out There

So I decided to use the cross-pollination method of creative thinking to come up with some questions that humanity could ponder while waiting for the next government edict on the Covid situation or while waiting in traffic behind some trucker or Confederate flag-waiving bigot who has decided his rights to spreading bellicose stupidity outweighs your rights to fetch a bagel in peace and quiet.

Potential Ponderable #1

Why do we use the word ‘lady’ when referring to  a cleaning lady? Do you know any cleaning gentlemen? Is is it because a proper cleaning lady keeps her legs crossed while scrubbing your filthy floors and food encrusted counters, and  always with a smile and good humour? Would you call Lady Diana a cleaning lady? How about Lady Gaga? Or the Lady of the Lake? I didn’t think so. Conversely, I know of no cleaning men. Unless you count my brother-in-law who keeps a damn tidy house. But he’s not compensated adequately for his services. Bless his hairy soul.

Potential Ponderable #2

Recyclable ammunition. Why hasn’t anyone invented recyclable bullets? Such a waste. Talk about our disposable culture. One-time use of bullets and missiles is so passé! Reuse and recycle, I say. (We are not good as reducing our use of ammunition however. Witness the state of the world over the last 26 minutes and you’ll know what I mean.) At least make bullets and bombs biodegradable or recyclable. I bet you if there was a deposit on ammunition, let’s say  1$ on every bullet casing and $20 on every shell or bomb casing you bring back to the supermarket, you’d have a line-up out the door.

Potential Ponderable #3

If prostitution is the oldest profession as the saying goes, who does the accreditation exams? is there a Prostitute Academy in the Netherlands I am unaware of? Who judges if you’re qualified and have passed the exams? More importantly HOW do they determine if you’re a professional? Do you need a website? Are there amateur and professional prostitutes? Is there a minor league? Or relegation to a lower tier? If you’re not designated a professional, then isn’t it more like a pastime or a side hustle?

Now it’s time for a shower.

Sincerely,
King Panda Druker

If I had the power of invisibility, I would...

Weedy Reality – It Sucks

Stanko & Tibor - Weedy Reality


Weeding Out Reality

[Warning: I took a lot of hey fever medicine and followed it with too much chocolate ice cream and not enough sleep. Happy reading.]

Having spent some time thinking about what to rant about, I spent time weeding out my more abstruse thoughts, like why can’t people who are smoking cigarettes during my daily strolls be encased in a giant, flexible plastic bubble so the carcinogenic fumes are trapped with their owners, while I stride by inhaling air, largely tainted by diesel fumes and people wearing far too much perfume and aftershave?

Another brilliant idea I wedded out is why hasn’t someone invented a mini crutch for under my chin that would rest on my collar bones or sternum so I could nap in in appropriate places like funeral homes and other places of worship? An indispensable napping device. Alas, reality strikes again and my wishes and wants remain unfulfilled and I am left with practical thoughts. Like how do I handle the imperfections of spring?

Today was a perfect example of what warm weather and sunshine bring out — beauty-spoiling, grass-molesting, flower-strangling weeds. Sure, while spring has finally arrived with some warmer weather, and the flowers are rising and the lilacs are blossoming, you still have to deal with the rebellious scum of nature: the weeds.

I spent 1 full hour, or 60 minutes to those of you who are more granular and anal in their timekeeping, using a metal weeding tool designed by Finns, no less, and ripping out weeds from the small patch if grass that is at the front of our house. It made me feel good to rid the space of those unruly horticultural whores who will pop up anywhere and everywhere. Made me feel like a man. With gardening equipment. I had the power of weed life and weed death for a brief shining moment. And yet, I still wasn’t totally satisfied.

Weed Remover

Like the unfortunate election of who some people are calling the Cheeto Mussolini, some things don’t work out the way we want them to. He’s an ego-ridden schmuck, but he is the duly elected POTUS (with some help from Russia). People wanted a change, an outsider, someone who would shake things up! And instead they elected a loud-mouthed, pathological weed who should be sprayed with some kind of industrial paint remover, and maybe cat urine. But some voters got what they wanted. Sort of.

We don’t always get what we want, even when we get what we want. I want free chocolate and danish as part of a healthy and nutritious breakfast, but the powers that be say it’s not healthy, and therefore I am thwarted. Instead I am forced to pay for, and eat cinnamon buns and almond croissants. It’s morally wrong, I tell you.

But with this ever-returning metaphorical and literal weed garden, we receive the gift of fodder for discussion. The stuff of comics and talkshows. That which keeps my father livid and his blood pressure elevated. It keeps me in comic heaven and gives me mental sustenance that can’t be provided by simple daily occurrences like work, the kids and giving the government vats of tax money.

Steady

Weedy reality will always be there. The steady hand of chaos and messiness that keeps me awake at night, dreaming of free danish and forever low glucose readings when I am getting my checkup.

Quizzically dizzy and sleepily silly,
Johann of the Suburbs

Efficient Evasion

Given the rapid approach of the American elections and Halloween (I think the two are interrelated) I present you, the above-average reader, with a bit of wisdom, philosophy and down-home cooking to get the rabble roused.

Things don’t always go as planned. Many, many of you have asked me why the last episode of Stanko & Tibor, with its deft and delicate introduction of the Mother of All Mothers, is being followed up by a non-sequitur dealing with politics, reality and the denial thereof. Actually no one has asked me that but I’m sure if any of you were to actually read this delicately drawn artistic tour de farce you would have wondered aloud and scratched your head your over your breakfast (thus shedding dandruff flakes into your corn flakes) “what the hell is this guy on? Can’t he complete one dang story line without going off on a tangent? Is he unwell in the cranium ?”

First of all, my cranial imbalances are strictly related to high fat foods I eat a lot of and having been choked as a child for excessive procrastinating on writing thank you cards.
Secondly, tell me which one of you has not left a room in your house thinking “I have to get X” only to arrive a few short seconds later asking yourself “why am I here again?” (And I don’t mean the existential “why am I here?” You’re here because your parents didn’t use birth control when they were at the night club.)

My point is that life is a series of random events and non-sequiturs and this cartoon is proof of such. As is the impending US election where facts are scarce, fiction is rampant, vitriol is viral, and non-sequiturs and absurd statements seem to be the norm, not to mention Mitt Romney’s son saying he wanted to punch President Obama after their debate. Nice Republican thug thinking.

So if you ever wander in your thoughts like I do, particularly when I am the wheel, then you may find yourself at the crossroads of absurdity and hilarity, or in other words at Stanko & Tibor.

Be well, lose some weight for me as I can’t seem to rid myself of the avoirdupois on my belly, and spend quality time with your loved ones. I did, and now her urge to drown me has abated mostly.

Forever yours until I stop taking my heart pills,
Monsignor Druker