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So, it’s still technically Thursday, and as promised, I have a brand-new amusement for you. Blame the late hour of posting not on indigence but rather on my decision, late yesterday, that these comics, based on life in the District, really needed to take a poetic form.

Check back on Monday for the next installment…or maybe just wait until Tuesday to be on the safe side. It could be another late night. But you know what they say: “Good poetry is written by poets. Bad poetry is written late at night by a half asleep wannabe comediennes and any ensuing hilarity is strictly incidental.”

I’m sure someone says that.

Tip: it probably could be left unsaid that this remains a work in progress. But if you are having trouble reading my already-small script on your browser, try clicking on the picture, then clicking on the smaller version of the picture that will then appear, to see a somewhat larger version of the picture.

And there you have it–the final Land Reacquaintance Diagram, meant to assist those who have spent too long at sea with their reintegration into dry society.

But no, this is not the last drawing. On Thursday, check back for an all-new series, chronicling life in the District. Watch me attempt to keep up a regular publishing rate of two new cartoons per week. Marvel at my marginal drawing skills. Pretend to laugh at my jokes. It’s going to be a great time.

And what’s that? You’d really like to be wearing my drawings? Aw, you’re sweet. And in luck, since I recently launched a shop on Skreened, INTERSTITIAL SPACE TRAVELLER AND THE IRONIC BLOOD. Order the cut, color, and style you want. Order a bunch of cuts, colors, and styles, even. There are onesies. There are reusable shopping bags. You will run out of cash before you run out of options.

Pardon my French. And Italian.

You may consider yourself quite an expert in water, but your applications are altogether too practical at times. Don’t forget that, on occasion, the landbound like to accessorize with the stuff as well. They may even consider verdigris attractive.

Please note too: you can’t park here. (Insufficient depth.)

If your first instinct, fearless seagoing warrior, is still to sort your trash not by whether it’s recyclable or non-recyclable, but by whether it’s paper, plastic, or metal/cloth, then this diagram is for you.

Other activities for which trash bins are not recommended: boating Niagara Falls, boating in general, use as spy dead-drops (so done), wearing as a hat, or safekeeping of any irreplaceable item (“I swear, this is wear I left that insert priceless artifact here yesterday!”).

It was on a little visit to Lisboa that I was reminded of the silent killer. That’s right–curbs. They’re at your feet. Inconspicuous. Waiting to strike.

It’s only fitting, really, that the week I finally maybe get back in the saddle is the same week we come across #8. The model pictured is particularly dangerous: note the lack of brakes, chains, and the other bits and bobs that make such a contraption go (or stop, as the case may warrant).

Incidentally, tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my departure on said seafaring expedition, which will make my land-to-sea ratio for the last year of my existence 44:322, accounting for the leap year. Sticklers who want to pump up the land-side of the ratio based on port visits, please note that I either woke up or went to sleep on a ship each of those days, regardless of physical location of said vessel; on 320 days I did both, on the first only the latter, and on the last only the former.

We’ll be sure to celebrate improving numbers on Monday with Diagram #9.

When you’ve been dealing with the logistics of refueling a vessel that carries 50% more passengers than your hometown for an extended period of time, it’s easy to forget the more personal, economic pain and even the whiff of danger associated with filling the tank of your sensible four-door sedan. Or that ill-advised mini monster truck with the gilded bits of anatomy swinging from the bumper (driver’s choice). Remember, even biwheel varietals of motor vehicles regularly necessitate a visit to the forest of credit-card swipers, rubber hoses and gigantic fountain beverages known best as a gas station.

The diagram below should help you recall these basics of land-based refueling. Enjoy your liquefied dinosaurs, or as I like to call it, “extinction’s great gift to humankind.” Ah, irony.

The light isn’t judging you. It’s not grading the cleanliness of you car or the promptness and positioning of your stop. It isn’t warning you that you’re out of periodicity for an oil change or that you need to complete at least three parallel parking demonstrations this month to maintain proficiency and stay in fighting shape.

It is just trying to tell you to stop, and go, in order to ensure the orderly flow of traffic.