An Exciting Prospect

Valued readers,

I issue my sincerest apologies to those readers who have been faithfully checking for updates on the Corn Hub the past two weeks only to be severely disappointed in finding nothing new. This I cannot help. With the heart of a true prospector, I always put corn first. Often, this means that my job supersedes my journalistic obligations, and I am forced to delay my address. This has been the case the past two weeks. I received a phone call from my good friend, Dawn Keye in the early hours of the 25th of October about an exciting new prospect in the hills of southern Virginia: There was corn, and plenty of it. So I hopped on the nearest train and rode down to investigate, meeting up with Dawn at the train station in southeastern Lunenburg. We immediately set out in search of corn, and were apparently not the first to do so. The hills were crawling with prospectors of all different sorts from all across the land. I met one man from San Angelo, Texas, who was a former colonel in the United States army who told me he had seen this before, and that it was unlikely to end well. Not long after Dawn and I began gathering baskets of corn (we had time to collect two apiece), things got out of hand. Overcrowding led to disputes over whose corn was whose, disputes led to violence, and violence led to chaos. Pickaxes were flying through the air like birds. Angry, murderous birds. Corn itself was being flung through the air... corn! A weapon! Donkeys were being used as meat shields. It was prospector against prospector, and was one of the worst sights my eyes have ever beheld. Folks, I want you to know, this is not the true spirit of prospecting, and I am deeply saddened by what has happened. Dawn and I returned to our homes the following morning after spending a night drinking our sorrows away at the Corner Bar.
So that is where I have been these past two weeks. Hopefully I will be able to update more frequently in the future, but as I said, corn will always come first. I hope my most recent experiences are not a reflection of a faltering prospecting community, but I urge you to keep corn and those who dedicate their lives to its service in your prayers.

With a corn cob pipe and a button nose,

The Prospector

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