Rolls off the tongue. This little guy was the villain of my childhood-- he, coelophysis, rhamphorhynchus, and the pugnacious pachycephalosaurus. I loved books as a kid, particularly dinosaur books, but I had trouble pronouncing some of the dinosaurs' names; who didn't? It was during a third grade book report where my above-and-beyond fell flat, so I was cut off in the middle of reading "pa-ra-sau-ro-lo-phus" to be handed a more appropriate title, the Revolutionary War. It was mocking how the teacher blew a blanket of dust off the cover in a way of saying, "reading is supposed to be punishment". I needed a tutor for the following year; I wonder why. It wasn't until my parents realized that I was writing my own fun Halloween horror stories that I didn't have a reading problem, just a bullshit problem. Wait, what is this picture again? Parasaurolophus? Yes, I started writing my own dinosaur books, too. My illustrations weren't that great, but my reference material looked a lot like this guy here, so I was rather proud to think of how it came full circle after completing him. I'd rather draw dragons, though. And sexy women.