Sexy Law Beast

Stanko & Tibor. And The Law


All ye who have read this passage of text, and have not hit the ‘Delete’ button (usually triggered by the primordial fear of being identified as a reader, or even worse, a fan of the artistic creation electronically penciled by a man who is often accused by his doctors as being unwell at the physical and metaphysical levels), may ye be blessed for not following conventional wisdom and social pressures that strongly suggest you should shun the latest edition of Stanko & Tibor, the comic that dares to be different.

It is with this holiday season here and me on vacation that I give you these thoughts to chew on. Not tender, melt-in-your-mouth morsels of humor, but rather they are more gristle with some decent meat to it and well-marinated in ever more sinus and cold medicine.  You really have to chew on them like a $7.00 fried steak and think about what it is this comic is trying to say. If you have figured it out, please tell me so at least more than one of us is clued in.

This is an offbeat episode of Stanko & Tibor, but it is meant to give you time to reflect on what a bunch of weirdos the Republican candidates are, and how it’s great fodder for a guy like me who is always looking for inspiration. And as this comic tells us, falling asleep with the TV on, you tend to get strange dreams, and even better ideas for the comic. No, I don’t watch porno or Law & Order. I subscribe to basic cable and Teletoon, so you can see where my priorities lie.

Furthermore, I didn’t want to deprive you of a good chuckle, and it’s better to produce something I deemed humorous when I thought of it in the shower so I can keep my skills sharp and then in the New Year, get back to the story line I want to experiment with on you folks.

I want to wish the loyal readers of this oeuvre d’art who aren’t taking mood-adjusting medication and/or who haven’t had corrective eye surgery for tweeting, forwarding, sharing and promoting my mission to make the world laugh one person at a time via this electronic vehicle called Stanko & Tibor. It would be nice if you actually bought a t-shirt or a piece of swag so I could afford the hosting fees to do this. Just saying is all.

To those lighting the candles, happy Hanuka. To those looking forward to some yuletide cheer, eat, drink and loosen your belts. Overeating is worth it, I know. And have a “good slide” into the New Year.

With love and kisses, Father Jon

Grace, Elegance & Fur

Grace Elegance & Fur
Grace Elegance & Fur

To my ardent followers, ye who have forsaken reason, logic and more often than not, proper hygiene, to follow this online chronicle of the factually inaccurate and often preposterous but comically gifted:

For too long I have not provided you with the comedic sustenance you so deeply crave, often forcing you to resort to inferior and some would say “unholy” entertainment. The kind that could get you arrested at the U.S. border. And in some cases some you have even stooped to reading the “funnies” page in the newspaper (an artifact my parents still subscribe to and something that riles my dad to no end when I tell him we don’t read a newspaper). You sicken me.

Well, I plan on putting this situation right by giving you this latest visual hors d’oeuvre, an image that draws (pun intended) on the artistic inspiration provided by the uncommon mix of THE DANCE and an excess of body hair.

Now let me come clean: I made this drawing less to sustain you, and more to defend me. My lovely daughters repeatedly asked for a drawing they could put on a t-shirt so they could show it at school and other important social gatherings. They hounded me as little sea urchin children selling newspapers at street corners would in those films of yore. They kept coming back at me, over and over, pestering me until I finally caved and cried “All right!”

Now I know the majority of you reading this think I did it less to gratify my children and show I’m a decent daddy, but rather I did it more as a feeble and transparent excuse to sit in front of the computer and draw while actively neglecting my fatherly duties and watch sports on the side doodling away in the basement. (You’d only be half-right — I wasn’t watching sports, I was watching cartoons, so there.) You know, it’s so hard to neglect kids these days, it’s not like in my parents day, I’ll tell you.

So I produced something relevant and meaningful to them – the cast of Stanko & Tibor engaging in a moment of ballet frivolity, minus the grace and elegance, despite what the caption says. And to be honest, I like what I produced. It has a certain Degas-like “je ne sais quoi” that mixes with the sledgehammer thematic I tend to produce to get my message of humor across. And this image for YOUR consumption is proof of such.

Let all (3) of you who read the comic know this: I will make the world laugh one viewer at a time, one t-shirt imprint, one eventual e-book at a time.

Keep the motor running through the holidays and I will produce many new episodes in the new year, largely revolving around the oppressed many, organized crime, and sewing. That one will be a gem.

Your humble, yet cynical servant, Lord Jon

Of Leaves, Birthdays and Futility

Dear followers of the last, great illustrated bastion of freedom of expression that has been deemed by the CIA and most Western religious groups as being mentally corrupt AND corrupting (not an easy feat), as well as deviant and just plain poorly drawn,

I send to you this latest depiction of the absurdity and frailty of life as illustrated by the hideous chore of  leaf raking, perhaps the most humbling, futile and idiotic activity humans have devised since the dawn of time. Sure, it gives me time to think of stuff to write for this comic, which is akin to giving a simpleton (me) with a penchant for hard liquor and fireworks (definitely not me unless it’s gold tequila) the keys to the fully stocked liquor cabinet along with a new Zippo lighter for his birthday (hint, hint).

And then you wind up with mental mush like this prose as a preamble to the comic.

What I came up with was a comic that delights in its visual and philosophical acuity yet is just a simple sight gag intended to tickle the soul with a devilish charm. Like life itself does from time to time. Or more accurately, this episode of Stanko & Tibor is like my birthdays.

In the spring of life, they entertained with the promise of gifts a-plenty, and wrapping paper and plastic enough to choke a horse and fill a landfill. However, there were many gifts that needed batteries and made noise — man, I hated those.

And then came the summer of life, where birthdays were joyous affairs, sometimes filled with booze, dinners and tasty cakes, and sometimes fraught with 2 ex-girl friends showing up simultaneously to give you hell for things you shouldn’t have done in a social setting with your underwear.

Then in the autumn of life, birthdays contain memories, aching body joints and discussions about medications, therapies and combustible, yet all natural medicinal herbs that help one forget that which he left in the kitchen not 5 minutes ago.

I don’t want to even think about the winter – that entails shoveling and scraping and salting and I’m just not ready yet. Oh and the kids and their filthy winter boots. But I digress.

So as this comic shows us the lesson of the ever-returning chore of leaf-raking in its most simple and humorous light, don’t forget one thing — that my birthday is Tuesday and I expect one whopper of a high calorie, high fat steak dinner that will trigger a 4-alarm gout attack followed by some damn gooey chocolate cake!

May you all find your true paths of glory. And if you found yours already, don’t rub it in my face, please.

Hugs and kisses,
Chairman and Supreme Leader Jon

Siri-Killer

My loyal followers, and those that feel guilty and follow out of shameful guilt (love you the most),

Through no fault of my own did I contract this unending sinus infection/cold that has helped make the tissue companies and pharma industries reach record quarterly profits due to my many purchases. But I am mending slowly, so much so that I raked the leaves in front of the house as any good sucker would.

Sweeping the thousands of leaves that fell from the tree in front of our house, I had time to think. Too much time, as it turns out, because I came up with this mental muesli which I am now imparting upon you folks. It largely revolves around taking a stand against something. Anything, really. In this case, it’s a stand against fundamentalism. Fundamentalism of all kinds — moral, religious, environmental, economic, corporate, automotive, food, you name it. Although there aren’t too many atheist fundamentalists. I don’t think they’re willing to die for anything, unless it’s maybe something like their favorite Chinese food restaurant being closed by the health department for flagrant violations involving small woodland creatures, a blood-soaked chopping block and rusty knives. But I digress.

I must especially take a stand against comedic fundamentalism. Those comedic people are the worst and most fundamental. You should have seen the comedian convention last year when the pie-in-the-face faction squared off against the seltzer faction, and then came the heckling, erudite Molière backers, who know how to use snobby, powdered-wigged wit in a deadly way. It wasn’t a pretty sight and more than one funny-boned purveyor of laughter was trucked out of there on stretchers. Blood, toupees, sinew, coconut cream and sharp words littered the messy, messy floor. I’m still scarred after that convention.

But I have gone off track again. So let it be known that if I don’t take a stand against fundamentalism in most of its forms (preferably the non-violent ones), and in particular against comedic fundamentalism, who will be left to joust with jesters and provide you with the artistic and savage commentary and buffoonery that is Stanko & Tibor? No one, that’s who.
So bear with me for this episode of the comedic sage that fits neatly on a page, and laugh if you can. It’s wordy, it’s visually WAY too busy, and it’s silly. My advice: Don’t let the comedic fundamentalists win.
Keep sniffling, keep blowing, and keep reading.
Johann von Sniffle

Occupy Dim Sum

Occupy Dim SumAs I sat at my desk today performing menial, mind-numbing tasks in order to help a colleague,  my various trains of thoughts, all loaded with many cars of twisted, ephemeral cargo, skipped the tracks, as if  a drunken, heavily unionized switchman on his last day of work before vacation and with a large dose of  cold medication in him were at the switching controls.

And it’s apt that I mention cold medication as I have been suffering (not loudly enough it seems) from a sinus infection that only now, after what would seem like a few hundred decongestant pills and other kinds of sprays and vats of chicken soup that have been popped into my body on a pretty regular basis, seems to be getting a little better. But only a little. I still need reasons to complain.

As for those thoughts skipping off in different directions, I managed just long enough to string together enough of them to do this cartoon, on a topic that cried out to be covered by the sharpest mind, the keenest wit, the most vicious humor this side of the western hemisphere. Unfortunately, he’s on vacation and the rest of the staff were fired due to “right-sizing” and “rationalization” so I was left with the job of cartooning this sucker. How it got from Wall St. protests to dim sum I am really not sure.

It really did distract me from my ever more decrepit house that requires untold amounts of stabilization and repair (think Champlain Bridge, but far worse workmanship). If I could convince you people to buy a t-shirt, or better yet, when I get around to it, the e-book I plan on creating of this comic, I would have just enough to finance those repairs. Or buy the repairmen a beer. You have been warned — an e-book is coming of the  Stanko & Tibor saga.

So keep reading this comedic/operatic saga that will stand the test of time, unless my PC dies before then. Highly likely.

Be well, and don’t forget to speak with pride when you mention my comic to  your shrink and/or parole officer.

-Giovanni di Prosciutto

The Blade of Jillett

JillettAhoy ye Followers of the Comedic and Comic,

Why the pirate-based greeting? Because I’m tired and didn’t sleep enough today. Should have napped when I had the chance and I didn’t. All I did was cook a vat of chicken soup, and then made a colossal dinner for the family that involved frying, steaming, baking and a whole lot of cleaning afterward.

And it was while cleaning the dishes that I had a minor revelation: my belly and the universe are two very similar entities. They are both still expanding and have masses of swirling gasses. The only difference is that I produce “big bangs” slightly more often.

What does that have to do with this latest installment of the finest, and some say strangest “oeuvre d’art” since Picasso smoked that bad weed with an absinthe chaser  and came up with Cubism? Everything and nothing. OK, that was a lame answer, but it gives me time to come up with a better answer.

Actually, this episode of Stanko & Tibor, the comic banned by both the Taliban AND Mel Gibson as being “sick and depraved”, is all about what is genuine. And what is indeed genuine? My love for my children? Some days, sure. And mostly when they are asleep. Or is it my addiction to chocolaty foods (notice I didn’t say “chocolate” – the stuff I eat has been through at least one lab and two genetic modifiers)? More likely.

But that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying this comic and the ensuing guffaws and deep laughter that SHOULD ensue from reading it. That is, if you’re normal. Only abnormal people don’t laugh at this. You know who you are.

Keep reading, keep eating and keep sleeping. That combo could lead to a long and healthy life.

-Jon de Val-Jean

Genuine Labor

Genuine LaborDearest comrades, brothers and sisters, and fellow fans of this timeless online objet d’art that has a shaky grip on reality much like its creator,

I just downed a meal that involved grilled meats, fresh corn from the field and other such treats and as a result, the digestive functions have kicked in and rob me as I type this of the blood and oxygen needed to form a coherent thought.  I am  slowly fading toward unconsciousness on the First Monday of September, a.k.a. Labor Day (in North America), the day we cherish what labor is, how hard we labor at our work and most importantly — why we are wildly happy to have another day away from the office, where they have easily taken 16 or 17 pounds of my flesh. Not sure what that would be in metric.

The idea for this comic has a long a tortuous past if you go through my emails where I write down and store most of my ideas. Safe to say, it was simpler to draw than to write it. But I have to give credit where it is due. My sister-in-law’s sharp wit  inspired the final frame, but I liberally stole her idea and made it my own. If this comic ever makes me any money, she’ll sue me for it. As will my best friend and much of my family. Mostly for sport more than for any substantial reason.

So now that I have published this latest installment of the comic that is often cited by critics as “foul literature”, an “artistic blight”, and by the medical establishment  “as a clear sign of mental degeneration and likely a genetic defect masquerading as a sense of humor”, I shall retire to the bedroom, rummage through my car magazines and dream the dream of the just, with images of me at the wheel of a fiery sport cars, towing along a trunk full of butter-rich croissants and maybe a dozen fresh bagels.

Keep the faith, and please keep over-eating so I’ll look a little thinner next to you.

-Johannes the Druker

Poetry In Motion

Poetry in MotionHello friends of summer,

This episode of the oft-criticized, regularly maligned, fervently attacked by the Left and the Right, most dangerous and subversive comic within a 3 mile (5 /km) radius of our favorite bagel store is a shout-out to one Lesley Trites, a soul-filled colleague of mine who has had or is having her book of poetry published shortly. (I asked for a free copy and she made a 1-fingered gesture considered rude at social gatherings and leading to violent escalations in traffic situations and told me to get in line like everyone else.) Congrats, Lesley, I’ll be at the poetry reading even if you have me on the do-not-admit list.

As you can well see, there is little topical in the way of this comic, and that is because I am too tired. Work, charity, kids, blogs, comics. Forget it. I need a break. Now to take 2 weeks off to do much of nothing.

It’s hot here, sticky humid, and I have got the A/C cranked as any good North American with full disregard for the environment and a ballooning electricity bill would do. Well, if I weren’t so fat and hairy, I might not suffer as much, but the short-term solution of man-made cooler air really appeals to me more than losing weight and waxing my body. My god, I would need a candle factory’s worth of wax. Still that would be less than what my brother-in-law Sparky would need.

I promise many a fun-filled episode to come in the future and I will devote more time to the comic that ruins your inbox so that more humor, mayhem and guffaws make their way out into the world. And as a thank-you, maybe you could by a t-shirt or a tote bag from me?

Be well all, and most importantly, eat well.

-Bono Jon

News vs. Facts

Stanko & Tibor - News vs FactsTo those who dare follow this comically drawn comic containing social commentary that endangers the lives — and sanity — of the innocent, the not-so-innocent, and the hairy among you, to those who dare to read it, or even have it bookmarked as one of your favorites:

Since the last posting, another few weeks have passed, and in that time much has passed. Like some stones through my kidney, some pain killers through my system, and perhaps worse, some steak, chocolate danish and loads of other junk through my large, hairy belly. NOTE: The expansion of the latter has nothing to do with the ingestion of the former. Or is that the other way around? Whatever.

This comic installment was an idea long in the making, and the recent Rupert Murdoch/News Of The World scandal made it that much more timely. So I give you a comic about misinformation, lack of facts, and general stupidity. So critique it if you will, tweet it if you will, print it and post it on the bathroom door at work, but just don’t ignore. Or do ignore it, I am really tired from eating way too much tasty Thai food at dinner and avoiding exercise with lame excuses like “I shaved today, I can’t risk sweating and breaking out in a rash on my neck!”

One last thing – I have created a whole slew of designs that you can have put on a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a tote bag, or even an iPad cover. So please have a look at them here:

https://stankotibor.com/buy-impress-friends/

And then tell me which one you like best and I can get you a deal on one of these. I know the hack artist who created them.

Much love and even more sleep for us all.

-Jonny D

Shopping for Truth

My dearest adherents to this comic,

As I walked to work the other day I gazed up at the early morning sky to see the sun brightly shining with a light corona of haze on its upward arc in the east, only be shortly met in mere minutes by a semi-translucent, semi-inky ridge of clouds that looked like they wanted to choke off the sun’s intense heat to give relief to an overheated city. I was amazed at the beauty of how sun and cloud play together at that time of day and how humans anthropomorphize our world around us to better cope with it.

Then I thought to myself, what a profound thought from a guy who watches Bugs Bunny with his kids and also produces a comic that involves a lot of fart jokes and sub-mental humor. And then I thought that such a deep thought could only have occurred due to the confluence of several key factors: a lack of meaningful sleep being crucial, modern pharmacology’s miracle of allergy medicine + my gout pills, probably a recessive gene that kicked it at that very moment, and then promptly switched off like a cheap incandescent light bulb, and lastly the left-overs of many a chemically-enhanced sugary product (i.e. gooey cinnamon danish) that spiked my blood sugar to levels not seen since my ingestion of a 100g bar of Marzipan right around Christmas.

And then when that thought dissipated like a drop of oil in a hot frying pan, I was left with this comic’s latest installment, once again on food. And my obsession with it. Not in a “Chef Paul Prud’homme, I can barely get my hands to touch because I am so fat” way. More like a “what am I ingesting that keeps my belly plump, round and unable to pack into my size 34 jeans without deep belly sucking.”

Personally, I like the product names way more than the reality of what’s in them and the effect they have on me. And that’s why I am going to be purchasing products that may well kill me (not the cigarettes, however. Relax, ma) albeit slowly and tastily.

Enjoy, and please check out some new designs I have for t-shirts and sweatshirts, you bunch of wonderful people with generous souls and open wallets.

It’s free humor for the immature