A memorial to Lynn Hansen, published in spring 1995 during my print-on-demand phase. I have no clue how many of these are out there. And somehow that little numerical copy information void seems fitting for anything having to do with Lynn.
Events subsequent to Lynn's death have only made his demise all the more mysterious. A few people have surfaced, even as recently as 4 or 5 years ago, who have revealed sides of Lynn I never knew. His life was apparently compartmentalized to an incredible extent.
When most people die, the news is spread through a circle of friends. But Lynn didn't have that. He had a string of friends, and very few of us were connected to each other. And none of us knew him as well as we thought we did.
What exactly happened to me? After doing the normal guy thing and ignoring an abdominal pain for two weeks, my wife discovered I was in trouble when I let out a yelp while sitting down. She forced me to go to the hospital. This no doubt saved my life as the docs rushed to open me up ASAP. It turned out I had swallowed some toxic substance, which they could not identify, and a foot of my colon had died. They said I most likely would've croaked in a day or two if I had done nothing. I now have an 8 inch scar as a souvenir of that surgical adventure, plus nerve damage in my drawing hand (which is about half numb most of the time these days). This was referenced in Cranium Frenzy #8.
From what I gather, Lynn's symptoms were different. Apparently he was dehydrated and had flu-like problems. He died at the same time I was released from my week-long hospital stay.
I'll be revisiting this unfinished story when I post info about Lynn's book on the Paul McCartney death hoax entitled Number 9. And believe me, it just gets weirder.
