Well, the comic that spawned a hate mail campaign is back from the dead. OK, that’s too much. It’s back from a prolonged vacation, induced by a period of overwork, overstress, and undersleep. Probably some other over-unders, but I’ll let the bookies guess at those.
This installment of the finest comic extant brings us back to our roots, that of social get-togethers, of games where we played happily, where we could just plain have fun. And what does dad go and do? Well, read the comic and find out. I am not here to spoon feed you, you know.
Speaking of dads, tonight he and my mom celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary, so here is your present, mom and dad. Happy anniversary. Your cheap-o son couldn’t come up with anything better. Maybe I’ll make you a dinner. I’ll not go into the litany of nasty jokes and crude one-liners my father has up his sleeve for just these occasions. I’ll just say this: Dad, I can’t find my bag. The rest is up to you.
I can’t say as I was overly happy with the style of the cartoon, but seeing as I hadn’t put electronic pen to silicon tablet in over 4 weeks (!!), you’ll excuse my rustiness and bulky style. I will endeavor to not let such a long period of non-comic-related activity happen again unless forced to cease via court order, or some guy wielding an axe.
This installment, however, is a one off, it’s a joke I have wanted to do for many months and was lying around my gmail inbox, hiding away for the right time to use it. I couldn’t find a right time, so I chose now. But I have many a storyline waiting for publication and what’s more, I have decided in a chocolate cookie, sugar-induced high that when the 50th episode of Stanko & Tibor is published, I will gather my gems and publish a book of them for all to consume (or use as a fire log). When that time comes, I will alert you. You have been warned.
Much love to all two of you who asked for me to keep on cartooning, but I think you were dangerously low on your medication.
Keep reading, keep the faith, and keep sending me money.