Greetings loyal airmen, I come to you this week with a harrowing tale of adventure, one in which 50% of crew lost theirs lives in horrible fashion.  It all happened days after our return from Pulp Con 35.  My publisher, Ron Hanna was eager to play host and wanted to show me all the sights and sounds of his hometown, Winchester, Virginia.  “Hey, I've got an idea,” he announced after breakfast.  “Let's go to Dinosaur Land.”  Well, it turns out this was supposedly some innocent, family park located only a few miles down the road.  Still, in all the years he had lived here, Ron admitted never having visited the attraction.  I should have immediately seen this as a very bad omen.

Next thing I know both of us are in the tacky, all American souvenir shop plunking down $5 each to pass through the turn stile and entered the amazing Dinosaur Land.  Probably just somebody's backyard with papermache monsters I thought to myself.
                                             
For the next few minutes, Hanna and I walked along a shaded forest path, but alas, no dinosaurs?  We decided to split up, hoping we'd have better luck.  It was a hot and humid day and I began to wonder if we'd really ever see any monsters.  I mean, come on, how hard is it to spot a giant lizard thingee?

                                              
From over the hill, I heard Hanna yelling.   “Snake!  Snake!”  Figured he must have encountered one of those little garden snakes you find all over this time of the year.  So I just yelled back, “Don't be such a baby!  Just stomped your feet and it will go away.”   It was the last I heard or saw of him?  Of course, how could I know we'd actually stumbled upon the Lost World of Arthur Conan Doyle's novel.  Only it wasn't in South America or some other exotic jungle of the world, but right here in our own back yard…in the sleepy little state of Virginia!!

At this point, I thought it best to calmly exit the grounds in a cool and collected manner.
                                             

And that is how I survived to tell the tale, loyal airmen.   Another harrowing adventure in the life Captain Ron and the old Airship 27.  One I will never forget, oh poor Ron Hanna….woe is he.  But all is not in vain, airmen.  Oh,no, for you see, as I was fleeing…ah…leaving the area, I spotted a very unique dinosaur…Coach-A-Saurus by name.  After a few hasty words and the promise of fresh, Yankee treats to dine on, I convinced him to return to New England with me for this week-ends five day contest against the New York sluggers.  Happily he was only too glad to sign on.              
                                        
So, bring it on, Yanks, we're ready for yah!!!

Have a great week, me I need a sedaitve.  Ron, over and out.