Hey Mountain Timers! I kinda wandered onto a plane and ended up a few thousand miles away from my super-advanced Mountain Time-making equipment, so Mountain Time is on break until, like, next Thursday?

The first ending I wrote revealed that the rhombus was a sentient being that was likely to kill anybody who wrote anything down, but then I thought up the magazine journalism joke and figured that anyone reading this who holds a magazine journalism degree might identify with it, print it out, and hang it in their cubicle at their non-magazine-journalism job. That seems to be the highest degree of recognition a webcomic can hope for (except for when people make rad interpretations of your art), so, you know, I had to go for it.