15: Kentucky
- population:
- 4,269,245
- households:
- 1,590,647
- housing units:
- 1,906,096
- square miles:
- 39,728
- characters:
- 4
- paragraphs:
- 16
- graphemes:
- 1,906
- narrator:
- 3rd person
At the Creation Museum, the Third-Person Omniscient Narrator stood and watched. Plastic dinosaurs walked before His eyes.
He would have sat but He was non-corporeal. Also, there were no benches. Even the Cave Girl looked uncomfortable.
He stood, so to speak, in contemplation. If He hadn’t created chairs, did that mean they were the devil’s work? He’d seen some in the lobby by the gift shop.
There were no branches in the Creation Museum, so He retraced His steps. An iguanodon paced the Garden of Eden, but Adam was ignoring it.
In the lobby, the Palm Café proffered coffee and tacos. The Dragon Hall Bookstore demonstrated that dinosaurs and dragons were the same.
In the theater, “Men in White” explained how the “whole enchilada” was created. The light came before the sun. The universe sprang from a white hole. The world was formed in 6 days, 6,000 years ago.
The 60,000-square-foot Creation Museum was beautifully and intelligently designed. Its animatronic displays were constructed by Universal Studios.
Its message was that believing in an older Earth had led to abortion and Internet pornography. To illustrate, there was a wrecking ball labeled “Millions of Years.”
Many of the museum’s mannequins were modeled on the actor who played Adam in a movie that had since been banished from the program, due to his appearance in Internet pornography.
He knew this because He was omniscient. Also, Google and Wikipedia.
All cosmic irony aside, He literarily wept to see some white Christ crucified on three flat-screen televisions. It was comforting to think that everything happened for a reason.
In the Biblical Authority Room, the signs proclaimed “God’s Word is True,” and to prove it there were several prophet statues.
One of the statues looked like Count Leo Tolstoy. The towering weightiness of his scrolls. The moral authority of his bushy brows.
He was overcome, and changed the other two to look like Tolstoy, too.
On a lonely telephone-pole-lined road, across from some empty Kentucky scrubland, stegosaurus-topped brick walls mark the golden gates of the Creation Museum.
The Third-Person Omniscient Narrator was tired, but the museum was open until 6 on Sundays, so He drifted toward the topiary gardens. Maybe He could create something believable there.
He would have sat but He was non-corporeal. Also, there were no benches. Even the Cave Girl looked uncomfortable.
He stood, so to speak, in contemplation. If He hadn’t created chairs, did that mean they were the devil’s work? He’d seen some in the lobby by the gift shop.
There were no branches in the Creation Museum, so He retraced His steps. An iguanodon paced the Garden of Eden, but Adam was ignoring it.
In the lobby, the Palm Café proffered coffee and tacos. The Dragon Hall Bookstore demonstrated that dinosaurs and dragons were the same.
In the theater, “Men in White” explained how the “whole enchilada” was created. The light came before the sun. The universe sprang from a white hole. The world was formed in 6 days, 6,000 years ago.
The 60,000-square-foot Creation Museum was beautifully and intelligently designed. Its animatronic displays were constructed by Universal Studios.
Its message was that believing in an older Earth had led to abortion and Internet pornography. To illustrate, there was a wrecking ball labeled “Millions of Years.”
Many of the museum’s mannequins were modeled on the actor who played Adam in a movie that had since been banished from the program, due to his appearance in Internet pornography.
He knew this because He was omniscient. Also, Google and Wikipedia.
All cosmic irony aside, He literarily wept to see some white Christ crucified on three flat-screen televisions. It was comforting to think that everything happened for a reason.
In the Biblical Authority Room, the signs proclaimed “God’s Word is True,” and to prove it there were several prophet statues.
One of the statues looked like Count Leo Tolstoy. The towering weightiness of his scrolls. The moral authority of his bushy brows.
He was overcome, and changed the other two to look like Tolstoy, too.
On a lonely telephone-pole-lined road, across from some empty Kentucky scrubland, stegosaurus-topped brick walls mark the golden gates of the Creation Museum.
The Third-Person Omniscient Narrator was tired, but the museum was open until 6 on Sundays, so He drifted toward the topiary gardens. Maybe He could create something believable there.
April 12, 2010